That feeling, that confrontation with the vastness of creation, is something Jewish tradition wrestles with too. How do we, tiny humans, fit into this grand cosmic tapestry?

Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, delves into this very question, specifically focusing on Psalm 8: "For I will behold Your heavens, the work of Your fingers…"

Rabbi Ibbo, in Midrash Tehillim, presents us with not one, but three different perspectives on this verse. The first? Pure awe. Imagine, says one opinion, that “If He had created me only to contemplate the heavens and the earth and the constellations, it would have been sufficient for me.” Just to witness the wonder! That's a powerful sentiment.

The second opinion takes a completely different tack: "Whatever I have to give for the future, let me give it now." A sense of urgency, of wanting to contribute while we can. And then there's the third opinion, attributed to, shall we say, "lazy workers": "Give us what our fathers had." A longing for the past, a reliance on inherited merit. It’s fascinating how much human nature is captured in these three simple interpretations of looking at the stars.

But the Psalm continues, "What is man, that You should remember him?" This is where it gets really interesting. Rabbi Berechiah tells us that when God created the world, He wanted to show the angels just how praiseworthy the righteous could be. The angels, being angels, were skeptical: "What is man?" they asked. After all, God fills heaven and earth (as Rabbi Joshua ben Levi reminds us, citing Jeremiah 23:24). What makes humans so special?

The Midrash goes on to offer a series of answers, identifying key figures in Jewish history as embodiments of humanity's potential. Each of them, in different ways, demonstrated a unique aspect of what it means to be human.

Abraham, remembered by God. Isaac, similarly blessed through his mother Sarah. Jacob, who, though "a little less than the angels," wrestled with one and prevailed, as we read in Genesis 32:25-30. The Midrash points out that Jacob was only lacking in giving his soul for his flock. He was willing to risk everything for them.

Then comes Moses, whose face shone with divine light, as described in Exodus 34:29. Joshua, who commanded the sun to stand still (Joshua 10:12-13). David, whose enemies fell before him, crushed like dust. Solomon, wise and eloquent, speaking of trees and all of creation. And even Samson, with his incredible strength, demonstrated when he caught three hundred foxes, according to Rabbi Huna bar Pappa.

Rabbi Simon even brings up Daniel, unharmed in the lions' den. And it doesn’t stop there! The Midrash even connects figures to elements of the natural world. Elijah, soaring through the world like a bird, sustained by ravens (1 Kings 17:6). Jonah, swallowed by the great fish (Jonah 2:1). And the Israelites themselves, miraculously crossing the sea on dry land (Exodus 14:29).

All these figures, these stories, are woven together to answer the angels' question. "What is man?" Man is potential. Man is struggle. Man is capable of both great righteousness and profound laziness. Man can even, through connection with the Divine, transcend his limitations.

The angels, witnessing all this, can only respond with awe: "O Lord our God, how majestic is Your name in all the earth! Your glory is above the heavens!" (Psalms 8:1). It's a reminder that even though we may feel small in the face of the universe, our actions, our choices, our very existence, have meaning. We are part of something grand, something divine.

So, the next time you look up at the stars, remember those figures, those stories. Remember that within each of us lies the potential for greatness, for connection, for a spark of the divine. And maybe, just maybe, you'll see yourself a little differently.