Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, grapples with this very question in its ninth section. And what emerges is a powerful, and sometimes unsettling, vision of divine justice.
It all centers on the verse, "For their blood demands vengeance." (Psalm 9:13). This isn't just a passive observation; it's a promise. The Midrash argues that when the Holy One, blessed be He, comes to demand the blood of someone like Rabbi Akiva – that towering figure of Jewish law and lore martyred by the Romans – He will also demand the blood of others, like Bar Kappara. It’s a chain reaction of accountability.
The Midrash meticulously lists the names of righteous individuals who met violent ends at the hands of oppressive regimes: Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, Rabbi Yishmael ben Elisha, Rabbi Yishbab the Scribe, Rabbi Chutzpit the Translator, Rabbi Yosei, Rabbi Yehuda ben Bava, Rabbi Yehuda the Notary, Rabbi Shimon ben Azzai, and Rabbi Chanina ben Teradion. These weren't just names on a list; they were teachers, leaders, pillars of their communities. Their blood cries out.
But the story of Bar Kappara and Rabbi Yehuda the Notary is particularly striking. A wicked government had decreed the death of Rabbi Yehuda. Bar Kappara, in a desperate act of cunning and self-sacrifice, appointed himself as a judge, staged a mock trial, and even arranged for another person to be killed in Rabbi Yehuda's place. He then spread rumors that Rabbi Yehuda had escaped execution.
However, the deception was discovered. The government, enraged, issued a new decree, condemning both Bar Kappara and Rabbi Yehuda to a gruesome death – they were killed and cut into pieces. The Midrash emphasizes that in the future, God will demand retribution for their blood, too. Their sacrifice, their attempt to subvert injustice, would not be forgotten.
The narrative then shifts to a more cosmic perspective. Rabbi Abbahu, quoting Rabbi Elazar, says that every righteous person killed by the nations of the world has their name inscribed in God's own book. As it says, "He will judge among the nations, filling them with corpses" (Psalm 110:6). God confronts the nations, asking, “Why did you kill so-and-so?” And when they deny their culpability, God reveals His book, delivering judgment and punishment.
It's a powerful image, isn't it? God as a record-keeper, a judge, a relentless pursuer of justice.
This isn't just about revenge, though. It's about remembrance. It’s about ensuring that the suffering of the righteous isn't erased from history. It's a reminder that even when earthly powers seem to triumph, divine justice will ultimately prevail. The Midrash concludes with the reassuring words: "He has not forgotten the cry of the oppressed."
What does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a call to remember the victims of injustice, to speak out against oppression, and to have faith that, even in the face of unimaginable cruelty, their cries are heard. And that justice, in its own time, will come.