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Simon the High Priest Shone Like the Sun

Simon son of Onias enters the Temple court with fire, incense, and Aaron's sons around him, and for a moment the service looks like the sun rising.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Priest Who Rebuilt What Stood
  2. Radiance Before the Altar
  3. The Crown of Aaron's Sons
  4. The Name on the Turban

Before the radiance, there was repair. Before Simon son of Onias could shine before the altar, someone had to fix the walls.

Ben Sira remembers that first. The priest who would become a living image of divine service began by strengthening stone.

The Priest Who Rebuilt What Stood

Ben Sira, a Jewish wisdom book composed around 180 BCE, opens its praise of Simon in chapter 50 with a practical claim. In the days of Simon son of Onias, the house was repaired and the Temple fortified. The city was guarded. The people were sustained during lean years. Simon is great, Ben Sira says, not only because he serves at the altar but because he maintains the institution that makes altar service possible.

Sacred beauty needs walls that stand. The priest who eventually shines like the sun is also the priest who climbed scaffolding and supervised foundations. Ben Sira refuses to separate the physical maintenance of holy space from the spiritual presence that fills it. They belong to the same person and the same vocation.

The repair work matters because Temple holiness is not supernatural in a way that floats free of material care. It inhabits stone, cedar, vessel, and gold. When those deteriorate, something in the heavenly connection deteriorates with them. Simon understood this before he ever put on his vestments.

Radiance Before the Altar

Ben Sira 50:11 turns Simon's service into a cascade of images that accumulate until they show something almost too bright to look at directly. A budding branch in the days of a festival. A lily among streams. A flame of incense on the offering. A vessel of hammered gold set with precious stones.

Then: like the sun shining on the Temple of the Most High. Simon's body in priestly garments, moving through the Temple court on the day of atonement or at the great festivals, becomes a visible argument for ordered holiness. He does not generate his own light. He reflects it. The service itself, performed with complete attention and correct form, turns the priest into a mirror of what the altar is for.

The beauty here is not ornamental. It is instructional. Israel gathered in the court below sees in Simon's movements what divine service looks like when it is whole. He is showing them something they need to remember.

The Crown of Aaron's Sons

Ben Sira continues into the liturgical setting. Simon stands at the altar and receives the sacrificial pieces from his brethren. Around him are the sons of Aaron, described as cedars of Lebanon, strong and rooted, and as willows by the brook, continuous and yielding. The sons form a crown around their high priest, and the image of crown is precise. Simon's dignity is not a solo performance. It is the center of a living ring of priestly dedication.

The cedar image carries weight in Ben Sira's poetic vocabulary. Cedars stand for permanence, for the kind of rootedness that does not bend in ordinary weather. The sons of Aaron surrounding Simon are not decorative. They are the living evidence that priestly service has not been interrupted, that each generation has prepared the next, that the covenant with Phineas and Aaron extends forward in these bodies standing at the altar.

The Name on the Turban

The Letter of Aristeas, a Hellenistic Jewish work from roughly the third to second centuries BCE, adds the perspective of an outsider encountering the high priest at worship. The text describes the golden turban on the high priest's head, and the golden plate inscribed with the sacred Name of God in sacred letters, and says: their appearance created such awe and confusion of mind as to make one feel that one had come into the presence of a man who belonged to a different world.

The outsider's testimony matters precisely because it comes without the habituation of a regular worshipper. Someone who has seen Simon every Shabbat may stop noticing. The Letter of Aristeas records the first impression, the one that cannot be faked. When the Name of God rests on the high priest's forehead, something in the human observer recognizes that it is in the presence of something that cannot be adequately explained by any category it already holds.

Simon shone like the sun not because of his beauty but because of what he carried: the Name, the vestments, the ancient obligation, and the willingness to stand at the intersection of heaven and earth and hold that position with his whole life.

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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Ben Sira 50:1Ben Sira

Ben Sira, in his wisdom, shines a spotlight on this remarkable individual. The text sings of him as "Great one of his brethren, and glory of his people." Not a bad title. But what did he do to earn such high praise?

It says, "In whose generation the house was repaired (?); And in whose days the temple was fortified.” The "house," of course, refers to the Beit HaMikdash, the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. So,

The question mark in the text after "repaired" hints at a little bit of uncertainty. Which temple was it? The Second Temple had a long history, fraught with challenges. Was Simon involved in its initial construction after the Babylonian exile? Or perhaps he led efforts to repair and reinforce it later on, during a period of neglect or damage?

The fortifications are easier to grasp. Think about the political landscape of the time. Judea was often caught between powerful empires. A strong temple was not just a place of worship; it was a symbol of resilience, a evidence of the enduring spirit of the Jewish people. Simon's work ensured its safety and prominence.

It’s easy to imagine him, isn't it? A leader, a builder, a protector. Someone who understood that faith needs a strong foundation, both literally and figuratively. He wasn't just maintaining a building; he was safeguarding a legacy.

There's a profound lesson here, I think. It's not always the flashy victories or the grand pronouncements that truly matter. Sometimes, it's the quiet, persistent work of repair and fortification that makes the biggest difference. It's about showing up, generation after generation, to rebuild what's been broken and strengthen what's vulnerable. And in that work, according to Ben Sira, lies true greatness. What are we building today? What are we fortifying for tomorrow?

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Ben Sira 50:11Ben Sira

Forget the sterile descriptions in history books. Ben Sira, in chapter 50 of his wisdom book, gives us a series of breathtaking images to help us do just that.

He paints pictures with words. He uses similes – comparisons using "as" – to transport us.

First, he evokes the image of a "budding branch in the days of the solemn feast." Can you see it? A fresh, vibrant shoot bursting forth during a time of holy celebration? It’s a symbol of renewal, of life pushing through even amidst solemnity. Then he shifts, and we’re beside "the lotus by the watercourses," serene and beautiful, drawing life from the flowing waters.

There's a change of scenery now. "As flower of Lebanon in the days of summer." Imagine the vibrant blooms bursting forth, fragrant and full of life, under the warm Lebanese sun. And then – a powerful shift – "as fire of incense upon the meal-offering." The sweet, pungent aroma rising, carrying prayers heavenward. Do you smell it?

These aren’t just pretty images. They’re carefully chosen to represent the beauty, the vitality, and the sacredness of the Temple service.

Ben Sira continues: "In (or As) a gold plated vessel, and a chalice (or weighty), That is set with pleasant stones." Think of the craftsmanship! The gleam of gold, the weight of the chalice in your hands, the sparkle of precious stones catching the light. It's all about the richness and splendor of the Temple rituals.

Then comes the image of an "green olive full of berries; And as a wild olive tree with branches full of sap." Here, he uses olives, so central to Israelite life, symbolizing abundance and blessing. The wild olive tree, untamed yet full of life, mirrors the raw power and potential of the divine presence.

But the most vivid imagery comes when Ben Sira describes the High Priest himself.

"When he put on robes of honour; And clothed himself with robes of beauty." Imagine the scene. The High Priest, the Kohen Gadol (the High Priest), preparing for his sacred duty. He’s not just putting on clothes; he’s clothing himself in majesty, in divine splendor. "When he ascended the altar of majesty; And made glorious the precinct of the sanctuary." The altar, the focal point of worship, becomes even more glorious through his presence. The entire sanctuary is elevated, filled with light and holiness.

It's important to remember that Ben Sira (also known as Yeshua ben Eleazar ben Sira) wrote these words in the Second Temple period, likely around 200-175 BCE. He was a sage, a teacher, deeply concerned with preserving Jewish tradition and wisdom in a changing world. These verses, part of a larger passage praising the High Priest Simon the son of Jochanan, are not just descriptive; they're a powerful statement about the importance of the Temple and its rituals in maintaining Jewish identity and connection to God.

So, what do we take away from this? Ben Sira doesn’t just describe the Temple; he invites us to experience it. He uses sensory language, vivid imagery, and powerful comparisons to transport us to a time and place of profound holiness. He reminds us that faith is not just about abstract ideas, but about tangible experiences, about connecting with the divine through beauty, ritual, and a deep sense of awe.

Perhaps, by immersing ourselves in these ancient words, we can glimpse the enduring power and beauty of the Temple, and find a renewed sense of connection to our own spiritual heritage.

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Ben Sira 50:16Ben Sira

Ben Sira, in his wisdom, gives us a glimpse. He paints a picture, vibrant and alive, of Simon the High Priest at the altar. Can you see him? Receiving the sacrificial pieces from his brethren, standing tall amidst the altar fires.

What a sight it must have been! Ben Sira describes a "crown of sons" around him, like cedars of Lebanon – strong, rooted, and reaching towards the heavens. And these sons, the sons of Aaron, surrounding him like willows by the brook, a powerful image of continuity and dedication. All of them, "in their glory," holding the fire-offerings of the Lord, before the entire congregation of Israel. (Ben Sira 50).

The scene: the weight of tradition, the heat of the flames, the murmuring of the crowd. All eyes fixed on Simon as he serves at the altar, arranging the fires of the Most High. A truly powerful moment.

Then, the sound! The sons of Aaron, the priests, raise their trumpets. Not just any trumpets, but "trumpets of turnery" – crafted with skill and artistry.

They sound the shofar, a blast that echoes through the Temple, a glorious voice made heard, "to bring to remembrance before the Most High." (Ben Sira 50). What does that mean, "to bring to remembrance?" Perhaps it's a reminder of the covenant, of God's unwavering promise, of the prayers and hopes of the people. It’s a call to remember our connection to something bigger than ourselves.

Ben Sira doesn’t just give us facts; he gives us a feeling. He invites us to experience, even across millennia, the power and beauty of the Temple service. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What aspects of our own traditions will resonate just as powerfully for future generations? What memories will we leave behind?

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Letter of Aristeas 1:99Letter of Aristeas

On his head he wore a tiara, as it is called, and upon this in the middle of his forehead an inimitable turban, the royal diadem full of glory with the name of God inscribed in sacred letters on a plate of gold … having been judged worthy to wear these emblems in the ministrations.

Their appearance created such awe and confusion of mind as to make one feel that one had come into the presence of a man who belonged to a different world. I am convinced that any one who takes part in the spectacle which I have described will be filled with astonishment and indescribable wonder and be profoundly affected in his mind at the thought of the sanctity which is attached to each detail of the service.

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