It all comes down to the Sanhedrin, the ancient Jewish high court.
The Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a Midrashic commentary on the Song of Songs, offers a fascinating glimpse into the inner workings of this vital institution. Rabbi Yoḥanan, interpreting a verse from Song of Songs, uses it as a springboard to discuss the composition and character of the Sanhedrin. The verse speaks of a "bed" [mitato] surrounded by "tribes" [matotav] and "clans." Rabbi Yoḥanan connects this imagery to the Sanhedrin, drawing parallels to verses like "the oaths to the tribes [matot]" in Habakkuk 3:9. It's a beautiful example of how our sages found echoes of profound meaning across seemingly disparate texts.
So, who exactly comprised this court? Well, the verse continues: "sixty valiant men." Rabbi Yoḥanan identifies these as "the sixty people from the people of the land," referencing a parallel in II Kings 25:19: "And sixty men of the people of the land who were found in the city." Then there are the "valiant of Israel," which Rabbi Yoḥanan equates to eleven men, based on the description in II Kings 25:18–19, including the chief priest, his deputy, and gatekeepers.
But there's one figure that stands out: the "official" [saris]. Why is he called a saris? According to Rabbi Yoḥanan, it's because he "reorders and resolves [mesares] the halakha" – Jewish law. He's the one who clarifies and brings order to complex legal issues. You can think of him as the legal architect of the Sanhedrin. Further, Rabbi Yoḥanan reconciles apparent discrepancies in the numbers of officials mentioned in different biblical passages (II Kings and Jeremiah) by suggesting they included scribes of the judges.
The passage then delves into the qualities that made these men "valiant." It wasn’t just about physical prowess; it was about their dedication to the law. "From the valiant of Israel," the text tells us, "as they benefit Israel with their might." Their "might" was their legal acumen, their ability to serve the community through just and informed rulings.
Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yosei offer different perspectives on how this legal sharpness was maintained. Rabbi Meir says, "They would all study halakha like a sword, so if an incident comes before them, the halakha would not be dull for them." In other words, they constantly honed their understanding of the law, so they were always prepared to render a clear and decisive judgment. They studied intensely so their rulings and analyses would be sharp and clear.
Rabbi Yosei takes a different tack: "During a trial, all of them deliberate how best to issue a verdict regarding the incident, and they fear the judgment of Gehenna" – the afterlife equivalent of hell. It wasn’t just about intellectual prowess; it was about ethical responsibility. They understood the weight of their decisions and feared the consequences of injustice.
Finally, Rabbi Menaḥem, son-in-law of Rabbi Elazar bar Avuna, shares a powerful teaching in the name of Rabbi Yaakov bar Avina: "If a woman comes before you to the study hall to ask you a question regarding her stain or her menstruation, look upon her as though she emerged from your loins and do not look at her covetously; fear the judgment of Gehenna." This isn't just a lesson about modesty; it's a reminder of the human element at the heart of Jewish law. It is critical to approach every individual with respect and empathy, especially when they are in a vulnerable position.
This passage from Shir HaShirim Rabbah offers a compelling portrait of the Sanhedrin, not just as a legal body, but as a community of dedicated individuals striving to uphold justice and truth. It reminds us that the law is not just about rules and regulations; it's about people, relationships, and the constant pursuit of righteousness. And that, ultimately, is a pursuit that continues to this day.