It might seem like a minor detail, but according to Jewish tradition, it reveals something profound about God's love for His people.

The text we're diving into today comes from Bamidbar Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Numbers. Here, the Rabbis explore the verse "He brought me to the banquet house, and his banner of love is upon me" (Song of Songs 2:4). But what does it really mean?

Rabbi Abahu uses a striking analogy. Imagine a wealthy man who discovers his vast wine cellar is full of vinegar – except for one precious barrel of fine wine. That single barrel, he declares, is as dear to him as the entire storehouse. Similarly, God created seventy nations, but He finds pleasure only in Israel. That's quite a statement, isn't it? Where do we get the number seventy? Rabbi Abahu points out that the numerical value of the Hebrew word for wine, yayin (יַיִן), is seventy (yod-ten, yod-ten, and nun-fifty). Of all those nations, "His banner of love is upon me" – Israel.

Rabbi Yehuda offers another interpretation, linking the "banquet house" to Mount Sinai, where Moses received the Torah, which can be expounded in forty-nine different ways. And again, "his banner of love is upon me." It's as if the Torah itself is a banner of God's affection.

Then we have Rabbi Ḥanina with a powerful image. In ancient times, pointing at the king’s image was a capital offense! But children in the study hall point to God’s name in the texts. Instead of being angered, God says, “His banner of love is upon me” – his finger, vegudalo, is beloved by Me. Notice the play on words here. The Hebrew words for "his banner" (vediglo) and "his finger" (vegudalo) share the same letters. The love is in the details!

Rabbi Yisakhar adds that even someone who skips around in their Torah study, jumping umdaleg from halakha (Jewish law) to halakha and from verse to verse, is dear to God. Even their skipping, dilugo, is beloved. It’s not about perfection; it’s about the effort and the connection. (Again, we see that wordplay, vediglo and dilugo).

The text continues, emphasizing that while all nations have banners, only the banner of Jacob – that is, Israel – is dear to God. Why?

The Midrash (rabbinic commentary) then takes us back to Mount Sinai. When God appeared, twenty-two myriads of angels descended with Him, arranged according to banners, as it says, “Preeminent [dagul] among a myriad” (Song of Songs 5:10). Seeing this, the Israelites yearned for their own banners. "If only we could be arranged according to banners like them," they cried. And God, hearing their desire, promised to fulfill it. That’s why He instructed Moses to organize them into tribes, each with its own distinct banner.

So, what’s the takeaway? It’s not just about flags and formations. It's about God's intimate and particular love for Israel, expressed through order, identity, and even their deepest desires. The act of arranging them under banners was an act of love, a way of showing that each tribe, each individual, had a place and purpose within the larger whole. And it all began with a yearning, a desire to be closer to the Divine. Don't you find that inspiring?