Forget the sanitized Sunday school version. The Midrash, that incredible collection of rabbinic interpretations, offers a glimpse into a world of fiery miracles and profound symbolism.
Let's dive into Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a commentary on the Song of Songs, and see what it reveals. The verse we're focusing on evokes "columns of smoke." Rabbi Elazar, quoting Rabbi Yosei ben Zimra, paints a vivid picture: as Israel journeyed, the pillar of cloud would descend, the pillar of fire would ascend, and the smoke from the altar would rise like two fiery sparks. Imagine the scene!
But it gets wilder. According to this tradition, from the two altars – the copper one for sacrifices and the golden one for incense – fire would erupt from between the staves of the Ark and burn away snakes, scorpions, and those dreaded "fiery serpents." The surrounding nations, witnessing this spectacle, were terrified, exclaiming, "They are gods, and all their actions are performed with fire!" This terror, we're told, is the source of the verse in Exodus 15:16, "Terror and fear will beset them" – not just then, but perpetually.
Now, here's where the Midrash gets really interesting: it connects these sensory images to our patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
"Perfumed with myrrh," the text says, "this is our patriarch Abraham." Just as myrrh is the finest of spices (as we see in Exodus 30:23), Abraham was the first of the righteous. The comparison goes deeper: just as harvesting myrrh leaves a bitter residue on the hands, Abraham "embittered and tormented himself with suffering." And like myrrh, which only releases its fragrance when burned, Abraham’s good deeds were revealed in the fiery furnace – a reference to the famous story of him being thrown into the fire for rejecting idolatry, found in Bereshit Rabbah 38:13.
Next, "and frankincense, this is our patriarch Isaac, who was sacrificed like a handful of frankincense on the altar." This directly references the Akeidah, the binding of Isaac, where Isaac's willingness to be offered as a sacrifice is likened to the purest incense.
Finally, "with all the powders of the merchant, this is Jacob our patriarch, whose bed was unflawed and no waste was found among them." This is a more subtle image, referring to the idea that all of Jacob's sons were righteous, unlike the earlier generations. Rabbi Tanhuma explains that Jacob is like a peddler's box filled with all kinds of spices, because from him came the priesthood, the Levites, and royalty.
The Midrash goes on to make a fascinating point about inheritance. Isaac received everything from Abraham, as Genesis 25:5 states: "Abraham gave everything that was his to Isaac." But Jacob? According to Rabbi Yudan, Jacob's "wares" – his success and prosperity – came from the "dust beneath his feet." This alludes to Jacob's struggle with Esau's angel, where he literally wrestled in the dust. As the verse states: "A man wrestled [vaye’avek] with him there" (Genesis 32:25). Rabbi Azarya adds that all of Israel's wars and their success in Torah study are also due to the merit of this "dust of Jacob."
Rabbi Berekhya and Rabbi Simon, quoting Rabbi Abahu, offer a stunning image: God took that dust and placed it under His throne of glory. As it says in Nahum 1:3: "The Lord, his way is in the tempest and in the storm, and clouds are the dust of his feet."
So, what does it all mean? This passage from Shir HaShirim Rabbah isn't just a history lesson. It's a powerful reminder of the enduring legacy of our ancestors, their struggles, and their unwavering faith. It suggests that even the humblest beginnings, represented by the "dust of Jacob," can be elevated to the highest realms. And perhaps, it hints that our own struggles, our own "dust," can also contribute to something greater than ourselves.