It goes all the way back to Mount Sinai, according to the ancient Rabbis.
Shir HaShirim Rabbah, the commentary on the Song of Songs, dives into a fascinating interpretation of the Israelites' experience when receiving the Torah. Rabbi Yoḥanan, a prominent figure in the Talmud, reads the verse "let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth" (Song of Songs 1:2) as a metaphor for the Israelites' arrival at Sinai.
Imagine a king, wanting to marry a woman of noble birth. He sends a messenger to propose. She replies, humbled, that she isn’t worthy even to be his servant. But – and this is key – she wants to hear the proposal directly from the king himself. The messenger returns, happy that she accepted, but struggling to explain her request. The king, being clever, understands: she wants to hear it from him directly.
According to this midrash, Israel is the well-born woman, Moses is the messenger, and the king, of course, is the Holy One, blessed be He. We find this idea in Exodus 19:8: “Moses returned the statement of the people to the Lord.” But wait, why then does the very next verse state: “Moses related the statement of the people to the Lord” (Exodus 19:9)? What's the difference between "returned" and "related"?
The Rabbis suggest that God initially planned to speak to Moses, who would then relay the message to the people. As Exodus 19:9 continues, "Behold, I am coming to you in a thickness of cloud, so that the people will hear while I speak with you, and they will believe also in you forever." But the people yearned for direct communication. They wanted to hear from God Himself! Moses, according to the Rabbis in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, then tells God, "This is what they demanded!"
God's response? “Does one listen to a baby [and give him] everything he asks?” Rabbi Pinchas, quoting Rabbi Levi, adds a proverb: "One who was bitten by a snake, a rope frightens him.” Moses, remembering his earlier hesitation at the burning bush (Exodus 4:1) when he doubted the people would believe him, was wary of conveying their request. He’d been punished for his earlier lack of faith. He was afraid of the consequences of relaying this audacious request.
Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai offers another perspective: The people wanted to see the glory of their King. Rabbi Pinchas, again quoting Rabbi Levi, adds a poignant layer. God knew that Israel would eventually "exchange their glory" (Psalms 106:20) for idols. So, He agreed to reveal Himself at Sinai. This was so they couldn't later claim they would have believed if only they had witnessed His glory. It was a preemptive act of grace, ensuring that God wouldn't be judged unfairly, echoing the plea in Psalms 143:2: “Do not enter into judgment with your servant, [for no living man will be justified before You].”
So, what does this all mean? This midrash isn't just a historical retelling. It's a reflection on our relationship with the Divine. Do we settle for secondhand accounts, or do we crave a direct, personal experience? Are we like the Israelites at Sinai, yearning to witness God's glory, even knowing the risks involved? And what about God's perspective? Does He indulge our desires, even when He knows our future failings? The story of Sinai, as interpreted in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, leaves us with these questions, inviting us to contemplate the complexities of faith, desire, and the enduring quest for connection with something greater than ourselves.