The Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, dives deep into this very verse. It's not just about avoiding bad company, though that's certainly part of it. It's about resisting the pull of entire generations steeped in wickedness.
The Midrash offers a powerful alternative reading, breaking down the verse into specific historical periods. "Happy is the man who does not follow the advice of the wicked," it says, "This refers to the righteous man who did not follow the counsel of the three generations: the generation of Enosh, the generation of the Flood, and the generation of the Dispersion."
Think about that. We're not just talking about individual bad actors here. We're talking about societal-level corruption. Rabbi Yehuda elaborates, connecting each phrase in the Psalm to a specific era: the generation of Enosh giving bad advice, the generation of the Flood walking the path of sinners, and the generation of the Dispersion, builders of the Tower of Babel, sitting in the seat of scoffers.
So, what's the alternative? What should we be doing? "But those who delight in the teaching of the Lord," the Midrash continues, "are those who observe the seven commandments that were given to the descendants of Noah, and study His Torah day and night." Torah, of course, means teaching, instruction, the wisdom of God. It’s not just about strict adherence to rules, but about immersing ourselves in divine wisdom. And the seven Noahide laws are the basic moral laws given to all of humanity.
The Psalm then compares the righteous person to "a tree planted by streams of water." Why this image? Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi offers a fascinating connection: the ark, during the Flood, "stood in the water for four months like a ship that sails on the water." The image of a tree planted by water evokes the ark, a symbol of survival and renewal in the face of unimaginable destruction.
Then comes a bit of a head-scratcher. "Its fruit in season," the Psalm says. The Midrash interprets this to mean that "all the children born in the ark were born after five hundred years of age." What? It's referencing the fact that Noah was 500 years old when the flood began (Genesis 5:32).
Rabbi Chiya, quoting Rabbi Abba, provides an even more intriguing idea: God "stopped up the spring of his (Noah's) loins so that he would not father a son who would be a descendant of the generation of the Flood and would be lost with them." The idea here is that God prevented Noah from having children who would be inherently tainted by the corruption of the pre-Flood world. Only those directly descended from that generation would face divine punishment.
It's a powerful image, isn't it? God intervening to prevent further corruption from entering the world. It also raises questions about justice, about inherited sin, and about the very nature of divine punishment.
Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish even connects this idea to the Messianic age, stating that "in the days of the Messiah, the righteous will return to their original form." He uses Isaiah 65:20 as proof: "For the youth shall die at the age of one hundred years." This suggests a restoration of longevity and perhaps even a cleansing of the inherited flaws of previous generations.
But what about those who died young in the Flood? Were they innocent? The Midrash anticipates this question, answering that "they were punished for the sins of their ancestors, as it is said, 'For all flesh had corrupted its ways' (Genesis 6:12)."
The Midrash circles back to Noah, asking again why God stopped up his loins. The answer? "So that he would not father many children who would be destroyed in the Flood." And if there were righteous people during the Flood, why didn't God make more arks? The implication is clear: God’s actions were deliberate, aimed at limiting the spread of corruption and ensuring the survival of a select few.
Finally, the Midrash returns to the Psalm's closing words: "Its leaves never wither" refers to Ham (one of Noah's sons), and "whatever he does prospers" refers to all the wicked. Even in the face of righteousness, wickedness can still persist and even appear to flourish.
So, what does it all mean? This passage from Midrash Tehillim isn’t just a simple explanation of a Psalm. It’s a profound meditation on the nature of good and evil, the challenges of resisting societal corruption, and the enduring hope for a future where righteousness prevails. It challenges us to examine our own lives, to consider the influences that shape us, and to strive to be like that tree planted by streams of water, drawing strength and sustenance from the wellspring of divine wisdom. Are we following the counsel of the wicked, or are we rooted in something deeper, something more enduring?