But the text goes on to explain that all who hate the righteous are, in effect, haters of the Holy One, blessed be He.

Think of it like this: when we strike out against goodness, against justice, against those who embody those ideals, we're not just hurting individuals. We're striking at something far more profound. It's a powerful, and frankly, a little bit frightening thought.

This idea echoes throughout the scriptures. Remember the verse in Shemot (Exodus 15:7), "and in the greatness of Your grandeur you destroy those who rise against You?" Does anyone truly "rise" against the Almighty? The text clarifies that those who rise against the righteous are, in a sense, rising against the Divine itself.

The text draws upon a multitude of verses to illustrate this point. From Psalms, we hear of adversaries and foes, of subtle counsel against the people. And then, a stark declaration: "Will I not hate Your haters, O L-rd? Will I not battle with those who rise up against You? I have hated them to the heights of hatred. I have deemed them my (own) enemies" (Psalms 139:21-22). Strong words, aren't they? They highlight the intensity of this connection.

Perhaps the most striking image is found in Zechariah (2:12): "Whoever touches you (Israel) touches the pupil of His eye." Notice that it doesn’t say simply "the pupil of the eye," but "the pupil of His eye." The text delicately reminds us that we're talking about something sacred, something intimately connected to the Divine. The text acknowledges that this is a euphemism, a way of speaking that softens the directness of the connection. It's like saying "the branch to their nostrils" in Ezekiel (8:17) when the real intent is "My." Or when Moses says, "kill me, I pray You... and let me not witness my evil" (Bamidbar 11:15), he is using a euphemism for "their" evil.

Rabbi Shimon b. Elazar adds a layer to this. He points out that nothing is more precious to a person than their eye. When threatened, we instinctively protect our eyes. So, when Israel is touched, it's as if the Divine is being wounded in its most vulnerable spot.

And Rabbi Yossi b. Elazar drives the point home: To harm Israel is to stick a finger into the Divine eye and gouge it out! Then the text reminds us of historical consequences. What happened to Pharaoh, Sisra, Sancherev, Nevuchadnezzar, and Haman—all who "touched" Israel? They faced divine retribution. Their stories, preserved in Shemot (Exodus 15:4), Judges (5:20), II Kings (19:35), Daniel (4:30), and Esther (8:7), serve as stark warnings.

But there's another side to this coin. Just as harming the righteous is akin to harming the Divine, helping the righteous is like helping the Holy One. As Judges (5:23) says, "'Curse Meroz!' said the angel of the L-rd. 'Bitterly curse her dwellers. Because they do not come to the holy of the L-rd, to the help of the L-rd among the mighty.'"

And it doesn't stop there. The text goes on to say that when Israel is subjugated, the Shechinah – the Divine Presence – is with them in their suffering. "In all of their afflictions, He was afflicted," as Isaiah (63:9) tells us. Rabbi Akiva goes even further, stating that if it weren't explicitly written, it would be impossible to say it: "You have redeemed Yourself!" In other words, the Divine is so intertwined with the fate of Israel that their redemption is, in a sense, the Divine's own redemption.

Through exile in Egypt, Bavel, and Edom, the Shechinah remains. And when they return, the Shechinah will return with them. Devarim (Deuteronomy 30:3) doesn't say "the L-rd will return your captivity," but "the L-rd will return with your captivity." A subtle but profound difference.

So, what does this all mean? It's a powerful reminder that our actions have cosmic significance. That the way we treat each other, especially the vulnerable and the righteous, reflects directly on our relationship with the Divine. It's a call to be mindful, to be compassionate, and to recognize the sacred spark within each and every one of us. It suggests an incredibly intimate and shared destiny, doesn't it? A destiny where our struggles and triumphs are inextricably linked to something far greater than ourselves.