Take a single line from Shir HaShirim Rabbah (Song of Songs Rabbah), a beautiful and intricate exploration of the Song of Songs. We're going to dive into just a few verses and see the rich tapestry of ideas woven within.
The verse starts, "Behind [mibaad] your braid." Immediately, we're drawn into an intimate space. Rabbi Levi offers a fascinating, if somewhat startling, observation: "Any bride whose eyes are ugly, her entire body requires examination. One whose eyes are beautiful, her entire body does not require examination." What's he getting at? Perhaps the eyes, as windows to the soul, reflect an inner beauty that either radiates outward or demands closer scrutiny.
He continues, "When a woman braids her hair behind her, it is an ornament for her." There’s a sense of hidden beauty, something perhaps not immediately obvious, yet deeply valued. This idea extends beyond the individual. Rabbi Levi compares it to the Great Sanhedrin, the ancient Jewish high court, which convened behind the Temple. This location, seemingly less prominent, was actually “an ornament of the Temple.” Rabbi Abbahu adds that though the Sanhedrin appeared crowded, "it was spacious for them, as in the great colloquium in Tzippori." A place of intense intellectual activity that was both physically crowded and yet allowed space for expansive thought.
Then, Rabbi Levi throws us a curveball, saying that the word mibaad is "Arabic." He explains that when someone wants to say, "Make room for me," they say, "Maved li." It's a reminder that languages borrow from each other, and that even in sacred texts, we can find echoes of other cultures.
Now, let's move on to the next phrase: "Your hair is like a flock of goats that streams down [shegaleshu] from Mount Gilad." What an image! This isn't just about physical beauty; it's about movement, abundance, and a connection to a specific place. But the Rabbis don't stop at the surface. They delve deeper into the word shegaleshu.
Rabbi Levi connects Mount Gilad to the splitting of the Red Sea. He says it's "the mountain from whose midst I directed away streams [shegalashti], I rendered a memorial [galed] for the nations of the world." He’s drawing a parallel between the flowing hair and the parting waters, linking personal beauty to a pivotal moment in Jewish history. This highlights the idea of galut, exile, but also geulah, redemption.
Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, in Rabbi Levi’s name, adds another layer: "When a woman’s hair grows too much, she thins it [galshin]. When the flame in a lamp burns too bright, one thins [the wick]." The root gimmel-lamed-shin, he explains, means to "thin out or strip away." It's a reminder that sometimes, less is more. That even in abundance, there's a need for refinement and balance. What did God take away [higlashti]?
The text continues, "Your teeth are like a flock of ordered [ketzuvot] ewes." Again, a striking image, but what does it mean? The Rabbis interpret ketzuvot as "defined [ketzuvin] matters, the plunder of Egypt and the plunder of the sea." The teeth, orderly and strong, represent the spoils of liberation, the tangible benefits of freedom.
"That have come up from bathing," the verse continues. Rabbi Abba bar Kahana, citing Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Ilai, points to the Book of Judges. Before Deborah's song, the Israelites "continued to do what was evil in the eyes of the Lord." After the song, they "did what was evil," but the word "continued" is missing. Why? Because, Rabbi Abba bar Kahana explains, "the song had already atoned for the past." Just like bathing cleanses the body, the song cleansed the soul. The verse suggests that music, poetry, and art have the power to purify and renew. Similarly, the song of David atoned for the past.
Finally, "That are all paired [matimot]" – "as they are all in the middle [metuamim] between the Divine Spirit and the angel." There's a sense of harmony, a perfect balance between the earthly and the divine. "The angel of God, who went before the camp of Israel, moved [and went behind them]" (Exodus 14:19). They are all "paired" and "in the middle" such that the Divine Spirit and the angel are balanced.
And the final thought: "And there is none missing among them" – "that not one of them was harmed." A sense of wholeness, completeness, and protection.
So, what do we take away from this brief exploration of Shir HaShirim Rabbah? It's a reminder that even the smallest details can hold profound meaning. That beauty is not just skin deep, but reflects inner qualities and historical connections. And that through careful interpretation and thoughtful reflection, we can uncover layers of wisdom that enrich our understanding of ourselves, our history, and our relationship with the Divine.