The ancient collection of rabbinic teachings, Midrash Tehillim, specifically Midrash Tehillim 48, grapples with this very idea, using Psalm 48 as its springboard. It asks, what is a truly beautiful view? The answer isn’t simply about aesthetics. It’s about a harmony where everything contributes to a unique and unprecedented beauty.

The Midrash contrasts this true beauty with the hollow pronouncements of self-proclaimed perfection. It cites the city of Tyre in Ezekiel (27:3), which boasts, "I am perfect in beauty." But, the Midrash points out, Tyre only says this about itself. Nobody else agrees! Similarly, Isaiah (47:10) speaks of someone saying, "You have said it to yourself, but no one else has told you."

It’s like that old saying: it matters less what your mother says about you, and much more what your neighbor says. Ouch.

But then comes Zion. Ah, Zion. The Midrash contrasts this with Jerusalem, of which Lamentations (2:15) says, "This is the city of complete beauty." And the key difference? Everyone agrees! Not only that, but it brings joy to all the land, as Psalm 48:3 proclaims.

But why this joy? The Midrash suggests it's tied to the spiritual well-being of the people. In those days, folks felt the weight of their sins. "Anxiety in a man's heart depresses it," King Solomon wisely observes in Proverbs 12:25. Imagine carrying that around. But when someone journeyed to Jerusalem and offered a sacrifice, it brought atonement, a sense of cleansing. Their heart would lighten, and as they left, they were filled with joy. This personal joy rippled outward, bringing joy "to all the land."

And here’s a fascinating detail: The Midrash acknowledges that Mount Zion is described as "the northern ridge, the City of the Great King" (Psalm 48:3), even though it's actually located in the south. Why? Because it was destroyed. The verse "On the north side of the altar" (Leviticus 1:11) is evoked, perhaps alluding to the Temple's destruction.

What does it mean by "City of the Great King?" The Midrash interprets it as referring to a king who acted in a certain way in his city. He acted that way in this world, but he will not act that way in the future.

So, what are we left with? More than just pretty scenery, true beauty creates harmony and elicits shared joy. It’s connected to a sense of spiritual wholeness, of being part of something larger than ourselves. And it hints at a future where even the "Great King" will act differently – perhaps with more mercy, more compassion? It invites us to reflect on what we contribute to the beauty of the world, and how we can foster that shared joy that radiates outward.