The text we're diving into today comes from Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Song of Songs. It's a fascinating exploration of a verse that mentions a crown: "At the crown with which his mother crowned him" (Song of Songs 3:11). But what does it mean?
Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai asks Rabbi Elazar ben Rabbi Yosei if he knows what this verse refers to. Rabbi Elazar responds with a stunning analogy. He compares God’s relationship with Israel to a king and his daughter. At first, the king calls her "My daughter." But his love grows so much that he begins calling her "My sister." And finally, his love is so profound, so encompassing, that he calls her "My mother."
Similarly, Rabbi Elazar explains, God first calls Israel "My daughter," as we see in Psalms 45:11: "Hear, My daughter, and see." The love deepens, and God calls them "My sister," as in Song of Songs 5:2: "Open for me, my sister, my lover." But it doesn’t stop there. The relationship evolves to its most intimate form when God calls them "My mother," based on a play on words in Isaiah 51:4. The verse says "le’umi," which means "My nation," but when written without the vowel marker vav, it can also be read as "le’imi," meaning "My mother." (This interpretation is highlighted in the Etz Yosef commentary.)
Can you imagine? God calling Israel "My mother"? Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai was so moved by this explanation that he kissed Rabbi Elazar on the head, declaring that hearing just this was worth the entire journey. It illustrates an intimacy and interdependence that is truly mind-blowing.
But the discussion doesn’t end there. Rabbi Ḥanina bar Yitzḥak raises a different point. He notes that the Bible doesn't say Batsheva ever made a crown for Solomon. So, what crown is the verse talking about?
Rabbi Ḥanina suggests that the "crown" isn't a literal crown, but a metaphor for the beauty and splendor of the Mishkan, the Tent of Meeting. Just as a crown is adorned with jewels, the Tabernacle was decorated with beautiful sky-blue, purple, scarlet wool, and linen.
Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, citing Rabbi Levi, adds another layer. He explains that when God instructed Moses to build the Tabernacle, it wasn't just about practicality. God could have just told Moses to put up four poles and stretch a curtain! Instead, God showed Moses a vision of fiery colors – red, green, black, and white – and told him to build it according to that vision.
Moses, understandably, was a bit confused. "Master of the universe," he asked, "where am I going to find black, red, green, and white fire?" God responded, "In their configuration, that you are being shown on the mountain" (Exodus 25:40). It wasn’t about replicating the fire literally, but about capturing its essence, its pattern.
Rabbi Avun offers an analogy: A king asks a member of his household to recreate a portrait of him. The household member protests, "My lord, am I able to create one like it?" The king replies, "You, with your materials, and I with my glory." It's a collaboration, a partnership. God wasn't expecting Moses to literally replicate the divine, but to create a representation using earthly materials.
Rabbi Berekhya, quoting Rabbi Betzalel, offers a similar image: a king appears to a member of his household in a magnificent, bejeweled garment and asks him to create one like it. The person questions their ability, and the king essentially says, "Just do your best."
The key takeaway here is that the Tabernacle was meant to be a reflection of the divine realm. As Rabbi Berekhya emphasizes, the Torah doesn't just say "Stand up acacia wood," but "[acacia wood], standing" (Exodus 26:15), as if they are standing among the hosts on high. The rabbis believed that if we created something below that mirrored the heavens above, God would "abandon" his heavenly council and dwell among us.
Rabbi Ḥiya bar Abba adds that the gold hooks in the Tabernacle were even designed to resemble stars in the sky! It was all about creating a connection between the earthly and the divine.
Finally, the passage returns to the Song of Songs, interpreting "the day of his wedding" as the giving of the Torah at Sinai, a moment of profound union between God and Israel. "The day of the rejoicing of his heart" is then linked to the words of Torah themselves, or alternatively, the Tent of Meeting and the Temple.
So, what does it all mean? This passage from Shir HaShirim Rabbah offers a multi-layered understanding of God's relationship with Israel. It's a love story that evolves from parent-child to sibling to the deepest intimacy of mother and child. It's also a story about how we can create spaces, both physical and spiritual, that reflect the divine and invite God's presence into our lives. It begs the question: how can we, in our own lives, create "Tabernacles" that reflect the beauty and glory of the divine? And how can we deepen our own relationship with the Divine to move towards greater intimacy?