That’s kind of what happens when we dive into Shir HaShirim Rabbah, the commentary on the Song of Songs. Today, we're looking at a passage that takes the beautiful imagery of springtime and transforms it into a story of exile, redemption, and rebuilding.
It all starts with the verse: “My beloved spoke up, and he said to me” (Song of Songs 2:10). But who is the "beloved" and who is the "me"? Well, in this interpretation, the "beloved" is God, and the "me" is Israel. And the message? It’s delivered through the prophets Daniel and Ezra. It’s a message of hope, of a new dawn after a long, hard winter. "Rise up, my love, my fair one."
“For, behold, the winter is past” (Song of Songs 2:11), the text continues. Now, this isn’t just about flowers blooming. It’s about the end of the 70 years that Israel spent in exile. But wait a minute, you might be thinking. Wasn’t the Babylonian exile actually 70 years? Here, Shir HaShirim Rabbah gets a little… creative with the math. It says that the "rain is over and gone" (Song of Songs 2:11) refers to the 52 years after the destruction of the Temple until the Chaldean (Babylonian) kingdom fell.
So where do the other 18 years go? Rabbi Levi offers an explanation: those 18 years were when a "Divine Voice" was supposedly berating Nebuchadnezzar, saying, "Bad slave, rise up and destroy the house of your Master because the children of your Master do not heed Him." It's a fascinating way to frame it, isn't it? Like God is almost reluctantly using Nebuchadnezzar as an instrument of divine justice.
But the passage doesn’t dwell on the past for too long. It quickly shifts to the blossoming future. “The blossoms have appeared in the land” (Song of Songs 2:12), and these "blossoms" aren’t just pretty flowers. They represent people like Mordechai and Ezra – leaders who emerged to guide the Jewish people.
Then comes a fascinating wordplay. “The time of the nightingale [zamir] has arrived” (Song of Songs 2:12). But the text doesn't stop there. It connects zamir to the word shetizamer, meaning "to be cut off," suggesting this is the time for circumcision, the time for the wicked to be broken, just as Isaiah (14:5) says: “The Lord has broken the staff of the wicked.” It’s a time for destruction of the old and preparation for the new.
And what about building? Well, the text continues, citing Obadiah (1:21): “Saviors will ascend Mount Zion,” and Haggai (2:9): “The glory of this [latter] house will be greater [than that of the first].” This isn't just about rebuilding a physical temple; it's about restoring national pride and spiritual purpose.
Then there’s the “sound of the turtledove [hator] is heard in our land” (Song of Songs 2:12). Rabbi Yoḥanan cleverly connects hator to the word tayar, meaning "explorer" or "scout." Who is this "good explorer"? It's Cyrus, the Persian king who allowed the Jews to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the Temple! The passage quotes Ezra (1:2–3), where Cyrus proclaims that God has commanded him to build a Temple in Jerusalem and invites the Jewish people to return.
Finally, “The fig tree has formed its unripe figs” (Song of Songs 2:13) symbolizes the baskets of first fruits brought to the Temple. “The vines in blossom emitted fragrance” (Song of Songs 2:13), representing the libations offered in the Temple. Everything is pointing towards renewal, towards a restored relationship with God.
So, what can we take away from this ancient interpretation of a love poem? It’s a reminder that even in the darkest of times, hope remains. It shows us how our ancestors found meaning and connection to their faith through allegory, transforming the pain of exile into a promise of redemption. And it reminds us that even seemingly simple verses can contain layers upon layers of meaning, waiting to be uncovered. What winters are we waiting to see pass? What blossoms are we hoping to see emerge in our own lives and communities?