Psalm 87, a song attributed to the sons of Korah, begins to unpack this very question. "Its foundation is on the holy mountains," the psalm declares, suggesting that holiness is rooted in something solid, something ancient.

The Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Psalms, delves even deeper. It tells us that God loves the gates of Zion more than synagogues and houses of study, emphasizing the importance of the Temple in Jerusalem. Why the gates specifically? Perhaps because gates represent entry, access to the Divine. They are the threshold between the mundane and the sacred.

But what does it mean for a city to be truly built on a firm foundation? The Midrash explores this through a powerful image: a turbulent city is one without comfort. Referencing Isaiah 54:11, Rabbi Isaac equates turbulence with "actions and being unsettled." Just as a storm-tossed sea offers no solace, a city without a strong foundation lacks stability and peace.

And what is the remedy for this turbulence? God promises to rebuild Israel with precious stones: sapphires for foundations, rubies for pinnacles, crystal for gates, and walls of precious stones. Imagine that! A city literally built on the most beautiful and enduring materials.

There's a fascinating story here about testing the strength of these materials. Someone took a sapphire, placed it on sandstone, and struck it with a hammer. The sandstone shattered, but the sapphire remained intact. This illustrates the unshakeable nature of God's promise and the enduring quality of the rebuilt Jerusalem.

Even the very appearance of these precious materials becomes a subject of debate. Rabbi Berachiah, quoting Rabbi Abba bar Kahana, recounts a disagreement between the angels Michael and Gabriel about whether the "suns" (perhaps referring to windows or decorative elements) would be made of sapphire or simply beautiful. God resolves the dispute by saying they will be both! This highlights the idea that true beauty and worth come from inherent value combined with aesthetic appeal.

The Midrash then shifts to the physical reality of Jerusalem's gates. Rabbi Yehuda, citing Rabbi Shmuel, mentions the great gate of Jerusalem having two mezuzot (doorpost parchments containing scriptural verses) and carvings from a single stone. Rabbi Yochanan describes gates of massive proportions, ten by twenty cubits, made of large, good stones.

One of Rabbi Yochanan's disciples scoffs at this idea, doubting the possibility of such immense gates. But later, while at sea, he witnesses ministering angels chiseling stones of that very size! When he returns and sees the prophecy fulfilled, he exclaims, "Blessed are those who believe!" Rika rebukes him, saying that if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it, highlighting the importance of faith and trust in the words of the sages.

These stories emphasize the importance of belief, even when faced with seemingly impossible claims. It's a reminder that sometimes, we need to trust in something bigger than ourselves, something beyond our immediate understanding.

Rabbi Pinchas HaKohen Bar Chama shares a similar story of a pious man who questioned how a gate with two mezuzot and a stone threshold could rise ten cubits high. He then saw a single stone rising from the sea to a height of twenty cubits. Again, the miraculous is presented as a challenge to our limited perceptions.

The Midrash concludes with reflections on the future. Rabbi Benjamin Bar Levi says that in the world to come, people won't be preoccupied with earthly pursuits like digging fields because all borders will be made of precious stones. Rabbi Yudan adds that gold and silver will be like dust before the King Messiah, signifying a shift in values from material wealth to spiritual richness. As it is said in Isaiah 54:13, "The Lord is your boundary and your peace."

Ultimately, Psalm 87 and the Midrash Tehillim invite us to consider what truly constitutes a strong foundation, both for a city and for ourselves. Is it physical strength, material wealth, or something more profound? Perhaps it's a combination of faith, belief, and a connection to something greater than ourselves. A place where the gates themselves are not just entrances, but symbols of something sacred and enduring.