Take, for instance, the humble hyssop. Hyssop – that little plant we read about in the story of the Exodus. It doesn't seem like much, but according to Shemot Rabbah, it's a key to understanding… well, everything.
The verse tells us, “You shall take a bunch of hyssop, and dip it in the blood that is in the basin, and touch the lintel and the two doorposts with the blood…” (Exodus 12:22). Seems straightforward enough, right? But the Midrash, in Shemot Rabbah 17, uses this seemingly simple instruction as a springboard to explore a profound idea: that everything God created, He created for His glory.
"Everything the Lord has done is for His purpose" (Proverbs 16:4), the text reminds us. It’s a sweeping statement, isn’t it? To unpack it, the Midrash takes us on a whirlwind tour of Creation. On the first day, God created the heavens and the earth. Were they just cosmic real estate? Not according to Isaiah (66:1), who declares, “The heavens are My throne.” And Psalm 19:2 tells us, “The heavens relate the glory of God.” It's all interconnected, a symphony of praise.
And what about light? Just a practical necessity? Think again. Psalm 104:2 says God “covers Himself with light as with a garment.” It's not just illumination; it's an expression of God's very essence.
The second day brought the firmament. What’s its purpose? To be a stage for angelic praise, as Psalm 150:1 tells us: “Praise Him in the firmament of His power!”
Even the seemingly mundane – grasses and trees created on the third day – join in the chorus. Psalm 65:14 says, “They shout for joy, they even sing!” And 1 Chronicles 16:33 echoes, “Then the trees of the forest will sing before the Lord.” The whole natural world is constantly singing God's praises.
But the Midrash doesn't stop at just admiring the scenery. It gets practical. God commands us to use trees, specifically cedar wood and hyssop, in mitzvot, in sacred acts. Think about the ritual of the red heifer (Numbers 19:17–18), where cedar wood and hyssop are cast into the fire. Think about purifying someone who has been healed from tzara'at (often translated as leprosy). And, of course, back in Egypt, hyssop was the tool to apply the blood of the Passover lamb.
Even water, gathered on the third day, sings God's praises: “From the sound of much water, the mighty breakers of the sea, [the Lord on high is mighty]” (Psalms 93:4).
The sun, moon, and stars, created on the fourth day, are not just celestial bodies but cosmic chanters: “Praise Him, sun and moon; [praise Him, all stars of light]” (Psalms 148:3).
Birds, animals, and humans – all created on the fifth and sixth days – are called to offer sacrifices, to give back to the Divine from the abundance of creation. Leviticus 1:14 and 1:2 detail the offerings from birds and animals, while Psalm 148:7, 12–13 calls on all humanity to “praise the name of the Lord.”
So, what’s the takeaway? It's not just about the hyssop itself, but what it represents. As the Midrash so beautifully illustrates, everything in creation, from the grandest star to the humblest plant, is ultimately connected to God's glory. Everything has a purpose, a role to play in the divine symphony.
And that includes us. We, too, are part of this grand design. What role will we play in praising God with our lives? That, my friends, is a question worth pondering.