It’s a deeply human experience, and it’s one that our ancestors grappled with too, especially at Sinai.

The ancient collection of rabbinic teachings known as Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a commentary on the Song of Songs, delves into this very feeling. It explores the yearning for sustained spiritual connection, using the metaphor of a lover's kiss to describe the intimate knowledge of Torah.

Rabbi Yudan, quoting Rabbi Yuda bar Rabbi Simon, along with Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Neḥemya, paint a vivid picture. Rabbi Yehuda tells us that when the Israelites first heard the words "I am the Lord your God" (Exodus 20:2), Torah study became ingrained in their hearts. They understood it intuitively, and they remembered it perfectly. Imagine that – knowledge so profound it’s effortlessly retained!

But this state didn't last. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the Divine encounter, they turned to Moses, pleading, "You speak to us and we will hear" (Exodus 20:16). "Why should we die?" (Deuteronomy 5:22). They sought an intermediary, someone to filter the raw power of God’s word. And tragically, with that distance, their perfect understanding began to fade.

They realized, "Just as Moses is flesh and blood and transient, so, too, his teaching is transient." A sobering thought, isn’t it? They longed for that initial, unmediated experience, crying out, "If only He would appear to us a second time! If only 'let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!' If only Torah study will be affixed in our heart as it was." They wanted that direct, intimate connection restored.

But Moses, the faithful messenger, offers a promise, not for the present, but for the future: "I will place My Torah within them and on their heart I will write it" (Jeremiah 31:32). A future where the Torah wouldn't be something external, learned and possibly forgotten, but an intrinsic part of their very being.

Rabbi Neḥemya adds another layer to this story. He suggests that when the Israelites heard "You shall not have other gods before Me" (Exodus 20:3), the yetzer hara – the "evil inclination," the impulse towards wrongdoing – was uprooted from their hearts. Imagine being free from temptation!

But just like the perfect understanding of Torah, this freedom proved fleeting. When the Israelites asked Moses to intercede, the yetzer hara returned. Again, they yearned for that initial state of purity, for that direct connection, exclaiming, "If only He would appear to us a second time! If only 'let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!'"

And again, Moses offers a future hope: "I will remove the stone heart from your flesh" (Ezekiel 36:26). A future where their hearts would be receptive to goodness, where the inclination towards evil would be overcome.

So, what does this all mean for us today? It seems to me that this passage from Shir HaShirim Rabbah speaks to the ongoing human struggle to maintain a connection to the sacred. It reminds us that spiritual experiences, even the most profound ones, can fade. But it also offers hope – a promise of a future where knowledge and goodness are not external ideals, but intrinsic qualities, written on our hearts and woven into the fabric of our souls. We, too, can strive for that “kiss,” that intimate connection, knowing that the journey is as important as the destination.