Psalm 143, a heartfelt plea from David, grapples with exactly that. "Lord, hear my prayer, listen to my plea..."

But the questions bubble up: Who among us can truly claim innocence? Solomon, wise as he was, asks in Proverbs (20:8-9), "Who can say, 'I have cleansed my heart'?" The Midrash Tehillim, our source for this exploration, picks up on this thread, reminding us that facing divine judgment is an overwhelming experience.

The prophet Malachi (3:2) paints a stark picture: "Who can endure the day of His coming? And who can stand when He appears?" It's a rhetorical question, of course. The answer, implied, is no one. Jeremiah echoes this sentiment (Jeremiah 30:6), describing even the strongest men gripped by fear, "with his hands on his loins like a woman in labor... and why have all faces turned pale?" Nobody, not even Abraham worrying over Ishmael, or Isaac over Esau, can escape that pallor, that primal fear.

It's in this context that David cries out. He begs God to answer him and do justice, but there's an underlying anxiety: "And if You do not do justice with me, who can stand?" It's a plea for mercy, born from a deep understanding of human fallibility. Job, too, in his suffering, yearned for respite, for a hiding place in Sheol (the underworld) until God's wrath passed (Job 14:13).

David takes this further, imploring, "Do not enter into judgment with Your servant" (Psalm 143:2). The Midrash Tehillim beautifully expands on this, suggesting that at judgment, the servant stands before his master. And let's be honest, who can truly win against their master? We see this echoed in Psalm 119:94: "I am Yours, save me." Everything we have, everything we are, ultimately belongs to God.

It's a theme that reverberates throughout the Psalms. "Turn Your gaze away from me, that I may recover" (Psalm 39:13). "Take Your hand away from me and let me be" (Psalm 102:11). God sees everything, knows our mischief and spite (Psalm 10:14), and yet, He also grants life and kindness. And yet, for all that, we are still held accountable.

The Midrash Tehillim circles back to that central question: "Who can say, 'I have made my heart clean'?" (Proverbs 20:9). The answer, again, is a resounding no. There's a litany of supporting verses: "For there is no man who does not sin before you" (I Kings 8:46). "For there is not a righteous man on earth who does good and never sins" (Ecclesiastes 7:20). Even "the heavens are not pure in your sight" (Job 15:15), nor "the stars" (Psalm 25:5).

So, what are we to make of all this? The Midrash Tehillim offers a fascinating conclusion: no living being can be justified before God. But the dead... the dead are vindicated. It's a mysterious statement, isn't it? Perhaps it suggests that only in death, when earthly struggles are over, can true judgment be rendered. Or maybe, it's hinting at something even deeper – a hope for redemption beyond our mortal failings.

This exploration of Psalm 143, guided by the wisdom of the Midrash Tehillim, leaves us with a profound question: How do we live in the face of inevitable judgment? Perhaps the answer lies not in striving for an impossible perfection, but in embracing humility, seeking forgiveness, and trusting in the boundless mercy of the Divine.