This tension, this very human struggle, lies at the heart of a beautiful passage in the Pesikta DeRav Kahana, a collection of Midrashic teachings.

The passage opens with a verse from the Song of Songs (5:2): “I was asleep, but my heart is wakeful. My beloved knocks! ‘Let me in, my sister, my darling, my dove, my innocent one! For my head is drenched with dew, my locks with the damp of night.’”

Imagine the Knesset Yisrael, the Assembly of Israel, speaking to God. They say, "Master of the universes, I am asleep regarding the Temple, but my heart is wakeful in synagogues and study halls." It’s a powerful image, isn't it? We may not always be perfect, we may falter, but our devotion, our connection, remains.

The Assembly continues, "I am asleep with regard to the sacrifices, but my heart is wakeful in fulfilling the commandments and doing righteous deeds. I am asleep regarding the commandments, and my heart is awake to perform them. I am asleep regarding the end of time, and my heart is wakeful towards the redemption. I am asleep regarding the redemption, but the heart of the Holy One, blessed be He, is awake towards our redemption."

There’s a reciprocal relationship here, a beautiful mirroring. We may feel distant, but God is always there, yearning for us, just as we yearn for God. Rabbi Hiyya bar Abba takes this idea even further. Where do we find that God is called the heart of Israel? He asks. And answers with a quote from Psalms (73:26): "[God is] the rock of my heart, my portion forever."

The Pesikta then returns to the verse, "My beloved knocks!" (Song of Songs, 5:2) and identifies the "beloved" as Moses. "Moses said, “Thus says the Lord: Toward midnight I will go forth among the Egyptians”" (Exodus 11:4).

And what about that plea, "Let me in!" (Song of Songs 5:2)? Rabbi Yassa offers a stunning interpretation: God says, "Open for me an opening like the eye of a needle, and I will open for you an opening that wagons and carriages can enter." Just a tiny act of faith, a small gesture of devotion, can unlock boundless blessings.

The passage then unpacks the endearing terms used: "My sister, my darling, my dove, my innocent one." "My sister," is a reference to being bound together through the blood of the pascal lamb and the blood of circumcision. "My darling," signifies the love shown at the sea, when they proclaimed, "The Lord will reign for all time" (Exodus 15:18). "My dove," alludes to the encampment at Marah, where their acceptance of God’s commandments shone brightly. "My innocent one," refers to the moment at Sinai when they declared, "Everything that the Lord says, we shall do, and we shall heed" (Exodus 24:7).

Rabbi Yannai offers another perspective, reading the phrase "my innocent one" as "tumyati," meaning "my twin" in Aramaic. It's an extraordinary idea: "I am not greater than her, and she is not greater than me." Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, citing Rabbi Levi, expands on this: just as twins feel each other's pain, so too, God says, "I am with him in his suffering" (Psalms 91:51). It’s a profound statement about the intimate connection between God and Israel, a connection built on shared experience and mutual empathy.

Finally, the passage addresses the imagery of dew and dampness: "For my head is drenched with dew... My locks with the damp of night" (Song of Songs 5:2). This, the text suggests, connects to the month of Nissan, the month of redemption. The heavens themselves weep, as we see in Judges (5:4), and it is in this month that we are told, "This month shall be for you the first of the months" (Exodus 12:2).

So, what does this all mean for us? It's a reminder that even in our moments of spiritual slumber, our hearts can remain awake, yearning for connection. It's a call to offer that tiny opening, that act of faith, knowing that God will meet us with boundless love and grace. And it's a comforting thought that even in our suffering, we are not alone. God, like a twin, feels our pain and walks with us on our journey.