That feeling is something our ancestors grappled with intensely after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. And in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, the ancient commentary on Song of Songs, we find a beautiful and poignant exploration of this very longing.
The verse in question is Song of Songs 4:3: “Your lips are like a scarlet thread, and your speech is lovely.” Now, on the surface, it's a sweet compliment. But the Rabbis saw something much deeper. They connected that "scarlet thread" to the Yom Kippur, Day of Atonement, ritual. You see, a strip of crimson wool was tied to the scapegoat, which was sent out into the wilderness carrying the sins of the people (Yoma 41b).
But what happens when there's no Temple? No scapegoat? How do we achieve atonement? According to Shir HaShirim Rabbah, Israel cries out to God: "Master of the universe, we do not have the strip of crimson wool and the scapegoat." These rituals were discontinued after the Temple's destruction. So what now?
God's answer is stunningly simple: “Your lips are like a scarlet thread – the murmuring of your mouth is as beloved to Me as the scarlet thread of crimson wool.” Wow. It's not the grand gesture, but the sincere words, the heartfelt prayer, that truly matter. Rabbi Abbahu sums it up powerfully, quoting Hosea 14:3: “We will pay bulls with our lips.” Instead of sacrifices, we offer our words.
Rabbi Abba bar Kahana even suggests that even in its desolation, the Temple's boundary still holds a certain sanctity. Rabbi Levi adds a fascinating perspective: God says that in its destruction, the Temple produced righteous people like Daniel, Mordechai, and Ezra, while in its standing, it sometimes produced wicked ones like Ahaz and Menashe. It’s a powerful reminder that holiness isn't just about a physical place; it's about the people and their actions. Rabbi Abba, quoting Rabbi Yoḥanan, supports this sentiment with Isaiah 54:1: “For the children of the desolate are more than the children of the married woman," meaning the desolate Temple produced more righteous people.
The commentary continues, drawing parallels between the Temple and the human body. "Your neck is like the tower of David" – this, we're told, refers to the Temple. Why the neck? Because as long as the Temple stood, Israel held its head high among the nations. But with its destruction, Israel’s neck was bowed. Leviticus 26:19 says "I will break the power of your might," referring to the Temple.
And the Temple was situated at the height of the world, just as the neck is situated at the height of a person. And just as the neck has the most jewelry, so too the priesthood and Levites emanate from the Temple. No neck, no life for the person. No Temple…well, you get the idea.
Then comes a beautiful image: “Magnificently [letalpiyot]” means a mound [tel] toward which all mouths [piyot] pray. Even when the Temple is gone, our prayers still turn towards it. From all corners of the world, we direct our hearts and voices towards Jerusalem, towards the place where the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, once resided. Those outside of Israel turn towards the land, those in Israel toward Jerusalem, those in Jerusalem toward the Temple, and those on the Temple Mount towards the Holy of Holies.
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi derives from I Kings 6:17 that, "This is the Sanctuary to the front [lifnai]" meaning the Sanctuary toward which all the faces [hapanim] are directed. Rabbi Avin says that even in destruction, letalpiyot, the Sanctuary remains a focal point for prayer. We say "Builder of Jerusalem" in the Shema, the Amidah, and Grace after Meals.
But here's where it gets truly mind-bending. How do we reconcile the idea of God being present in the Temple with the idea of God being everywhere? One verse says, “My eyes and My heart will be there always” (I Kings 9:3), while another says, “I will go and return to My place” (Hosea 5:15). Is God here, or is God… elsewhere?
The Rabbis offer a stunning synthesis: God’s face is on High, but God’s heart is below. We should direct our hearts toward the Holy of Holies, both the earthly and the supernal – the one in heaven. As Exodus 15:17 says, “The place [makhon] You fashioned for Your dwelling, Lord” – it is aligned [mekhuvan] with Your dwelling place, the supernal Temple.
Mount Moriah, the Temple Mount, is so named, according to Rabbi Ḥiyya the Great and Rabbi Yannai, because either bitterness [mara] or awe emerged from there to the world. From the Ark [aron], either light [ora] or a curse [arira] emerged to the world, depending on whether one accepted the Torah or not. From the Sanctum [devir], either a plague [dever] or precepts [diberot] emerged.
Finally, the commentary concludes with a reminder of God's unwavering protection. "One thousand bucklers are hung upon it" – God shortened one thousand generations and brought them the protection they desired. Abraham asks, "You have been a shield for me, but will You not be a shield for My children?" And God replies, "I have been one shield for you...but for your children I will be many shields."
So what does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in the absence of grand rituals, the power of sincere prayer remains. That even in times of destruction and despair, holiness can still emerge. And that even when we feel disconnected, we can still turn our hearts towards something greater, towards a place where our prayers are heard and our longings are understood. Maybe, just maybe, that scarlet thread is always within reach.