Rabbi Levi suggests a difference in timing. When the Holy One, blessed be He, judges the nations of the world, it happens at night, a time when they are asleep, supposedly free from sin. It's almost like a clean slate, a moment of respite before judgment.
But when it comes to judging Israel? Ah, that's a different story. Rabbi Levi says it happens when they are actively engaged in Torah study! Think about that. Judgment not in a moment of weakness, but in a moment of striving for understanding, for connection with the divine.
Then, the Midrash veers into the lineage of Ruth, the Moabite woman who becomes a central figure in the story of King David. Rabbi Alexandri makes a point: Ruth didn't really arise from the Moabites, nor did Obed (her son) or his descendants. They were considered to be on the side of Judah. This subtly hints at the idea that lineage isn't just about blood, but about allegiance and spiritual connection.
And then there’s the curious case of a man named Yeter. One verse (2 Samuel 17:25) calls him "Yeter the Yisraelite," while another (1 Chronicles 1:31) calls him "the Yishmaelite." Contradiction? Not quite. Rabbi Shmuel bar Nachmani provides a beautiful explanation. He was originally a Yishmaelite, but he earned the title "Yisraelite" in a profound way.
How? He entered the study hall one day and heard Jesse, David's father, reciting the verse from Isaiah 45:22: "Turn to Me and be saved, all the ends of the earth." This verse pierced his heart, inspiring him to convert. Jesse, recognizing his sincerity, even gave him his daughter in marriage!
However, the sages offer a slightly different take. They say he was called "Yisraelite" because he sharpened his sword like Yishmael (known for his warrior spirit) and entered the study hall with fierce determination. He declared, "Either I will kill or I will be killed, but I will fulfill the words of my teachers." What a powerful image of commitment and dedication to Torah!
It's interesting how the Midrash presents two potential reasons for Yeter's name change. Both highlight the transformative power of embracing Torah, whether through heartfelt conversion or unwavering commitment.
Finally, the Midrash ends with a cryptic statement: "Ammonite but not Ammonitess, Moabite but not Moabitess." This refers to a specific interpretation of Jewish law (halakha) concerning who is allowed to convert and marry into the Jewish people. It’s a reminder that even in inclusivity, boundaries and distinctions can exist. (This is based on Deuteronomy 23:4, which prohibits Ammonites and Moabites from entering "the assembly of the Lord," but later interpretations, particularly in the Talmud, clarify this only applies to the men).
So, what do we take away from this small piece of Midrash? It's a reminder that judgment isn't a simple, black-and-white event. Lineage is complex. And the path to becoming part of something bigger than yourself can take many forms, from quiet devotion to fiery commitment. It makes you wonder: how are we being judged, and what are we doing to shape that judgment?