The Psalms, those ancient songs of King David, knew all about that feeling. And the Rabbis, centuries later, unpacked those feelings in their own special way, through midrash.
Take Psalm 7, for example. Midrash Tehillim 7, that's our guide for today, delves into just a few lines from this powerful Psalm. It begins with the words, "I have trusted in the Lord my God." Simple. But Rabbi Yochanan, a towering figure from the Talmudic era, sees something deeper. He connects the phrase "in you, I have trusted" to the very building blocks of the Hebrew language.
He points out that the Hebrew phrase contains 22 letters, mirroring the 22 letters of the Aleph-Bet, the Hebrew alphabet. It's like saying that trust in God isn't just a feeling; it's woven into the very fabric of creation, into the very words we use to express ourselves. "In you, with your Torah, I have trusted," Rabbi Yochanan explains. It's a beautiful image, isn't it? That our faith is intertwined with God's teachings, with the Torah itself. It is from the Aleph to the Tav, the beginning to the end.
But the Psalm doesn't stay in that peaceful place for long. It quickly turns to danger: "Lest he tear my soul like a lion." Talk about a vivid image! And the Midrash doesn't shy away from it. It asks: what happens if the lion, ready to devour its prey, actually misses? What if it’s about powerful people, like Doeg and Ahithophel, breathing down your neck, hoping you stumble?
Doeg the Edomite, remember, was the one who betrayed David to Saul, leading to the massacre of the priests of Nob (1 Samuel 22). And Ahithophel? He was David’s trusted advisor who later turned against him and sided with Absalom in his rebellion (2 Samuel 15). These weren’t just abstract threats; they were real people who posed a real danger to David's life.
The Midrash sees these figures as lions, poised to tear David apart. And it makes you wonder: who are the lions in our lives? What are the forces that threaten to devour us, to make us miss the mark, to lead us astray?
The verse continues, "He tears, and there is no savior." A bleak picture, indeed. The Midrash amplifies the sense of isolation: "There is not one among all the people of Saul who can teach me righteousness." David feels utterly alone, abandoned even by those who should be his allies.
It's a powerful reminder that even in moments of deep faith, doubt and fear can creep in. The Psalms don't shy away from those feelings. They acknowledge them, wrestle with them, and ultimately, find a way back to trust. And the Midrash helps us understand the nuances of those struggles, the very real dangers that David faced, and the unwavering faith that ultimately sustained him.
So, what do we take away from this little glimpse into Midrash Tehillim 7? Perhaps it's this: that faith isn't about pretending everything is perfect. It's about acknowledging the lions in our lives, the forces that threaten to tear us apart, and still choosing to trust, to believe, to find solace in the very letters of the Torah. Even when we feel utterly alone, there is always the possibility of finding our way back to righteousness.