Forget the dainty portions we see in movies. Let's talk about Solomon.
I Kings gives us a glimpse, doesn't it? "Solomon’s provision for one day was thirty kor of choice flour, sixty kor of flour; ten fattened oxen, twenty grazing oxen, and one hundred sheep, besides deer, gazelle, fallow deer, and fattened geese" (I Kings 5:2–3). A kor, by the way, is a pretty hefty ancient measurement – we're talking some serious quantities of food.
Now, Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Zevida takes this a step further in Bamidbar Rabbah. Can you imagine Solomon, with his legendary wisdom, having one thousand wives? And according to this midrash, each and every one of them prepared that enormous meal every single day. The kicker? Each wife believed he would dine with her. Talk about pressure!
Contrast that with Nehemiah, the governor. Times were tough. As we read in Nehemiah 5:18, "What was prepared for one day: One bull, six choice sheep, and birds were prepared for me…[nevertheless I did not collect from the nation the taxes for the governor’s food, because the service was heavy upon this nation]." Even this relatively modest (compared to Solomon, anyway!) provision was a burden on the people. He refused to take more than he needed, understanding the strain on the community.
So, what does all this feasting – or restrained eating – tell us?
The text in Bamidbar Rabbah offers a beautiful perspective on what God truly desires. It's not about the literal eating and drinking. It's not about lavish offerings. "My children," the Holy One says, "it is not that there is eating and drinking before Me, but rather, it is because of the aroma, that you should be pleasant and agreeable before Me like a pleasing aroma."
What's that aroma? It's the sweet smell of obedience. It's the fragrance of a community acting justly. "What I want," God says, "is that I command you and you perform My will."
Think about that. It's not the grand gestures, the extravagant meals, or even the meticulous rituals that truly matter. It's the intention behind our actions. Are we striving to live in accordance with God's will? Are we acting with kindness, justice, and compassion?
Perhaps that's the real feast – a life well-lived, a life dedicated to fulfilling our divine purpose. And that, my friends, is a banquet worthy of the heavens.