The story, as told in Midrash Tehillim, revolves around the moment Shlomo wanted to bring the Aron Kodesh, the Ark of the Covenant, into the Kodesh Hakodashim, the Holy of Holies. Seems straightforward. The Temple was built, the Ark was ready... but there was a problem. The gates were too small.
Now, do the math with me for a second. The gates were five cubits long and two and a half cubits wide. The Ark? A mere one and a half cubits in length, width, and height. So, how could the Ark not fit? The Midrash tells us that at that precise moment, the gates cleaved together, stubbornly refusing to open wide enough.
Imagine the scene. Shlomo, the king, the master builder, utterly stymied by a set of gates. He starts singing songs of joy – twenty-four of them, in fact – but gets no response. Then he tries a direct command, reciting, "You gates, lift up your heads!" (Psalm 24:7). Still nothing. "You gates, lift up your heads, so that the King of Glory may enter. Who is this King of Glory?" (Psalm 24:7-8). Silence. Deafening silence. It's almost comical, isn't it?
Why this divine stubbornness? What was going on?
Finally, Shlomo prays, "O Lord God, do not turn back the face of Your anointed one; remember the kind deeds of David Your servant," (2 Chronicles 6:42). And immediately, the gates lifted, the Ark entered, and, to top it all off, fire descended from heaven. Talk about a dramatic entrance!
So, what was the hold-up? Why the initial resistance? The Midrash suggests that Shlomo's pride got in the way. He had declared, with perhaps a touch too much self-importance, "I have surely built You a house to dwell in..." (1 Kings 8:13). It's a beautiful sentiment, but maybe it lacked a certain humility.
The Zohar, a central text of Kabbalah, often emphasizes the importance of humility before the Divine. Perhaps Shlomo's initial statement, even though intended as praise, needed a correction.
The people, witnessing this whole scene, understood the message. They realized that this was a sign that God had granted atonement for a past sin of David, Shlomo's father. Immediately, their faces turned "black like the bottom of a pot" – a vivid image of shame and repentance.
This moment echoes in Psalm 86:17, "Grant me a sign for good, and let my enemies see [it] and be ashamed, for You, O Lord, have helped me and comforted me." The Midrash interprets "helped me" as referring to this world, and "comforted me" as referring to the world to come.
The story of Shlomo and the gates is a powerful reminder that even the wisest among us can stumble. It teaches us about the importance of humility, the power of prayer, and the ever-present possibility of atonement. And it reminds us that sometimes, the greatest obstacles are the ones we create ourselves.