Jewish tradition has a lot to say about that moment – that before and after. And it all starts with a verse from Song of Songs: "Behold the bed of Solomon..." (Song of Songs 3:7).
Bamidbar Rabbah 11, a section of the ancient Midrash, uses this verse as a jumping-off point to explore how our relationship with the world, and even with the Divine, changes when we sin. It's a profound shift in perception, a loss of innocence, perhaps.
Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai interprets the verse about Solomon quite literally. He pictures Solomon's bed surrounded by sixty valiant men, armed and ready for battle. Why such heavy security? "From fear in the nights" (Song of Songs 3:8) – Solomon was afraid of demons! This isn't just a historical anecdote; it's a metaphor for the vulnerability that comes after sin.
Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai takes it further. He says that before a person sins, they inspire awe. After? They feel the awe, the fear. Think about Adam. Before the sin in the Garden, he could stand and listen to the Divine Voice. Afterward, he hid! As it says in Genesis 3:8, "The man and his wife hid from the presence of the Lord God."
Rabbi Avin adds that before, Adam heard a "gentle voice." After, it was thunderous. It's like the volume got cranked up on the consequences.
And it’s not just individuals. The whole Israelite nation experienced this shift. Before the sin of the Golden Calf, Rabbi Abba bar Kahana tells us, the Israelites could witness the "appearance of the glory of the Lord" on Mount Sinai – a devouring fire, no less! – and not be afraid. According to Exodus 24:17, “the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like devouring fire atop the mountain.” They even saw seven partitions of fire consuming one another! But after the sin, they couldn't even look at Moses's radiant face. Remember the verse from Exodus 34:30? "Aaron and all the children of Israel saw Moses, and behold, [the skin of his face] was radiant, [and they feared approaching him]."
Rabbi Pinḥas ben Rabbi Avin, quoting Rabbi Ḥanin, even suggests that Moses himself felt this shift, this distance.
Rabbi Yudan, citing Rabbi Aivu, brings another powerful image: Before the sin, even the angels Michael and Gabriel feared Moses! But after, Moses couldn't even look at their lowest-ranking soldiers. That's a serious demotion!
The Midrash continues, drawing parallels with other figures: Saul, who initially captured the kingdom and inspired terror through his good deeds and Torah learning, but later became fearful himself. David, who once proclaimed "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?" (Psalms 27:1), but after his sin with Batsheva, became weary and discouraged.
Then there's Solomon, who initially dominated demons with his songs and poems – "shirim veshirot" as it says in Ecclesiastes 2:8. He even controlled Ashmedai, the king of demons, to build the Temple. But after he sinned, Ashmedai banished him, and Solomon had to surround his bed with guards for protection.
But wait, there's more! The Midrash doesn't stop at individual failings. It also offers alternative interpretations of the verse from Song of Songs. One interpretation sees the "bed of Solomon" as representing the tribes of Israel who left Egypt. The "sixty valiant men" become the six hundred thousand Israelites over the age of twenty. Their swords? The very swords they used to circumcise themselves before offering the Paschal sacrifice! According to Exodus 13:18, “the children of Israel ascended armed from the land of Egypt.”
Another interpretation sees the "bed of Solomon" as representing the Sanhedrin, the ancient Jewish court. The "sixty valiant men" are the members of the court, armed with their knowledge of Jewish law, or halakha, ready to render true judgment.
Finally, the Midrash interprets the verse in relation to the priestly watches and the Priestly Benediction. The "sixty valiant men" are the sixty letters of the blessing, bolstering Israel with their might.
So, what does all this mean? It seems to me that Bamidbar Rabbah 11 is telling us that sin isn't just about breaking rules. It's about altering our perception, diminishing our strength, and creating distance between ourselves and the Divine. But it also reminds us that even after we stumble, there are paths to redemption, ways to reclaim our strength and reconnect with the Divine. It’s a powerful reminder of the stakes, and the constant work of striving to live a more righteous life. What do you think?