The verse in question is Song of Songs 2:17: "Until the day is great and the shadows flee, turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or a fawn on the cleft mountains.” Now, on the surface, it's beautiful, poetic imagery. But as always, the rabbis find layers of meaning within.

The phrase “Until the day is great [sheyafuaḥ],” sparks a fascinating discussion between Rabbi Yudan and Rabbi Berekhya. Rabbi Yudan interprets sheyafuaḥ as "Until I introduce a breeze [piḥa] into the night of the kingdoms." He sees it as God intervening to speed up redemption. Remember the story of the Exodus? God promised Abraham that his descendants would be in exile for 400 years (Genesis 15:13), but Rabbi Yudan points out that they were actually in Egypt for only 210. Did God "introduce a breeze" to shorten their suffering?

And what about "the shadows flee"? Rabbi Yudan sees those shadows as the harsh realities of slavery – the mortar and bricks, the backbreaking labor. Rabbi Ḥelbo adds another layer, connecting the shadows to not just Egypt, but to the "four kingdoms" destined to persecute Israel: Babylonia, Persia, Greece, and Rome. He finds a hint of this in Genesis 15:14, where the verse could have simply said "the nation," but instead says "and also the nation," implying the inclusion of these future oppressors.

It’s a powerful reminder that suffering isn’t just about one event, but a recurring pattern throughout history. It also echoes the idea that even times of relative peace – "cities prepared for them," as Rabbi Yudan puts it, referencing the time of Joseph in Egypt – are still part of the larger period of exile.

Then comes the plea: "Turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle." Here, the rabbis see a shift from God's attribute of justice to the attribute of mercy. The quickness of a gazelle, the agility of a fawn – it's all about accelerating redemption. Rabbi Yosei ben Rabbi Ḥanina specifies "like the offspring of a hind," emphasizing the youth and vitality associated with this swift deliverance.

And those "cleft mountains [bater]?" Rabbi Yudan connects this to the Covenant of the Pieces (Brit bein HaBetarim) with Abraham (Genesis 15:18), the very foundation of the relationship between God and the Jewish people. It’s a reminder that God is bound by promises, even when things look bleak.

Rabbi Berekhya offers a different take on "until the day is great," linking it to divine fury. He quotes Ezekiel (21:36 and 22:20), speaking of God's fiery breath. The "shadows" in this interpretation become the shadows of sorrow and sighing, the emotional toll of exile. And Rabbi Yudan adds yet another layer to the "cleft mountains," suggesting that the kingdoms will be held in abeyance "until after [batar] their treasures." They will be judged only after they have received their due reward in this world for any good deeds they may have performed. Rabbi Levi bar Ḥaita connects this to the eventual fall of Rome.

But perhaps the most chilling interpretation comes from Rabbi Berekhya, who says that even if God only had what the Romans did in Beitar against them, His judgment would be justified. What happened in Beitar? Rabbi Yoḥanan tells us that Emperor Hadrian killed four million people there. Four million. The scale of the tragedy is almost incomprehensible. Beitar became a symbol of devastating loss and the consequences of rebellion against Rome during the Bar Kokhba revolt.

So, what does all this mean for us today? This passage from Shir HaShirim Rabbah isn't just ancient history. It's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, the promise of redemption endures. It's a call to hope, to remember the covenants of the past, and to trust that even when shadows seem overwhelming, the day will eventually break. And maybe, just maybe, a breeze will come to speed things along.