Bamidbar Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Numbers, dives deep into the prophet Amos's rebuke of those who are "tranquil in Zion" (Amos 6:1). Who are these tranquil people? According to this passage, they are the tribes of Judah and Benjamin, lounging in their luxurious palaces. And the "secure on Mount Samaria" (Amos 6:1)? Those are the Ten Tribes, chilling in Sebastia (another name for Samaria).
But here’s the kicker: Amos isn’t just pointing out their comfy lifestyles. He's zeroing in on their complacency, their lack of concern for the bigger picture. They're so busy enjoying themselves that they’ve forgotten their responsibilities, their connection to something greater.
The text continues, “Those who name themselves the foremost of the nations” (Amos 6:1), who descend from Shem and Ever, from whom Israelites are called Ivrim – Hebrews. Then, “come to them the house of Israel” (Amos 6:1).
The text contrasts the behavior of idolaters, who boast about figures like Bilam, Goliath, and Haman, with the wisdom and might of figures from Israel's history. The Israelites, in turn, can boast of figures such as Ahithophel, Solomon, Samson, David, and Korah. "Everyone agrees with the statement of Israel."
Amos calls them out: “Come to Kalne and see” (Amos 6:2) – that’s Ctesiphon, a major city in Babylon. “And go from there to greater Hamat” (Amos 6:2) – that’s Hamat of Antioch. “And descend to Gat of the Philistines” (Amos 6:2) – those are the steep fortresses of the Philistines. “Are they better than these kingdoms? Is their border greater than your border?” (Amos 6:2).
God, according to the text, is essentially saying: "I've given you an incredible gift, a portion greater than any other nation. Why aren't you honoring that gift? Why aren't you fearing Me?"
The problem? They “spurn the day of evil” (Amos 6:3). They push the thought of exile far from their minds, falsely believing “No harm will befall us” (Micah 3:11). They consort with villainy, like Esau, as it says in Obadiah 1:10: “For the villainy to your brother Jacob…”
And how are they spending their time? “Who lie on beds of ivory… and sprawl [usruḥim] on their couches” (Amos 6:4). Here, the rabbis get pretty blunt. Usruḥim is connected to the word masrihin, suggesting they’re not just lounging, but defiling their beds with transgressions – swapping wives and engaging in illicit acts.
They’re “eating the fattened sheep from the flock, and the calves from inside the stall” (Amos 6:4). Every tribe had its own day of indulgence, selecting the fattest animal for slaughter. They “strum on the face of the lyre; they considered themselves like David with musical instruments” (Amos 6:5). Just as David sang praises to God, they use lyres to accompany their drunken revelry. They “drink with wine bowls [mizrekei yayin]” (Amos 6:6).
What exactly are mizrekei yayin? Rav says it's congealed wine. Rabbi Yoḥanan says they are small cups. The Rabbis say they are cups with pipes attached! Rabbi Abbahu, quoting Rabbi Ḥanina, specifies they drank from Patgita, whose wine would seduce the body. Other rabbis, again in the name of Rabbi Ḥanina, say they drank from Pelugeta.
They “anoint themselves with virgin oils” (Amos 6:6). Rabbi Yehuda bar Yeḥezkel specifies oil from olives that were one-third ripened, used to remove hair and smooth the skin. Rabbi Yanai says it was oil from Antioch.
But despite all this luxury, "they are not distressed over the destruction of Joseph" (Amos 6:6). They’ve lost sight of the potential consequences of their actions. Joseph, here, represents the kingdom of Israel.
So, what's the consequence? "Therefore, they will now be exiled at the head of the exiles…" (Amos 6:7). The rabbis connect wine with licentiousness, pointing to the placement of the portion of the nazirite (one who abstains from wine) after the portion of the sota (a woman suspected of adultery). Wine can lead one astray, so it's best to abstain. "When a man or a woman will articulate [to take the vow of a nazirite, to abstain for the Lord]."
This passage from Bamidbar Rabbah serves as a potent reminder: comfort can be a dangerous thing. It can lull us into complacency, making us forget our responsibilities and our connection to something larger than ourselves. Are we, perhaps, a little too tranquil in our own Zions? Something to think about, isn't it?