The collection of rabbinic homiletic interpretations of Song of Songs, Shir HaShirim Rabbah, dives deep into this very question. Rabbi Berekhya offers a surprising take: how can honey and milk under the tongue be appealing? After all, isn't that kind of gross? His answer is insightful. If the more difficult or unclear aspects of Jewish law, the halakhot, taste like honey and milk to you, then the clear, well-understood ones must taste even sweeter!

Rabbi Levi adds another layer. Even someone who simply reads a verse beautifully, savoring its melody and meaning, fulfills this verse. The sweetness is in the appreciation, the connection.

And then there's that intriguing line: "And the scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon." What could that possibly signify?

The text immediately pulls us into a story from Genesis, where Jacob deceives his father Isaac. Remember that scene? Isaac smells Jacob's clothes and blesses him, thinking he's Esau. Rabbi Yoḥanan points out the obvious: washed goatskin – what Jacob was wearing – doesn't exactly scream "pleasant aroma." In fact, he says, "You have no item whose odor is fouler and harsher than washed goatskin, and it says: 'He smelled the scent of his garments'?"

So, what gives? Rabbi Yoḥanan explains that when Jacob entered, the Garden of Eden itself entered with him. That explains Isaac's words: "See, the scent of my son is as the scent of a field that the Lord blessed" (Genesis 27:27). But when the wicked Esau entered, Gehenna – the Jewish concept of hell – came with him! As Proverbs 11:2 says, "With the arrival of malice, disgrace has arrived." Isaac even cries out, "Who then [efo]?" which the Divine Spirit cleverly interprets as, "who is baked [ne’efeh] in this oven?" The answer? "The one who hunted game" (Genesis 27:33) – a reference to Esau's hunting prowess and, metaphorically, his destructive nature.

This idea of garments and their significance leads to another fascinating discussion. Rabbi Elazar ben Rabbi Shimon asks his father-in-law, Rabbi Shimon ben Rabbi Yosei ben Lakonya, a seemingly simple question: did the Israelites take weaving utensils with them into the wilderness? The answer is no. So where did they get clothes for forty years?

His father-in-law replies that ministering angels clothed them after they declared, "We will perform and we will heed" (Exodus 24:7). That's why Ezekiel 16:10 says, "I clad them in embroidery." Rav Simi identifies this embroidery as a purple woolen garment, which Aquilas translated as a multi-colored embroidered garment.

But Rabbi Elazar isn't satisfied. Didn't the clothes wear out? "Your garment did not grow worn from upon you" (Deuteronomy 8:4), he is told, quoting the Torah itself! Didn't they shrink as the children grew? "Go out and learn from the snail," his father-in-law advises, "for as long as it grows, its shell grows with it."

And what about laundry? "The cloud would rub them clean and iron them." Didn't they burn from contact with the fiery cloud? "Go out and learn from this garment made of stone fibers, which is ironed only in fire." Lice? "If in their deaths they did not, did they in their lifetimes?" meaning, if the bodies of those who died after hearing God at Sinai weren't infested with worms, then certainly the living wouldn't have suffered from lice!

Finally, Rabbi Elazar asks about body odor. Here, the answer is especially beautiful: "They would roll in the grass [produced due to the water of] the well. That is what is written: 'He has me lie down in green pastures' (Psalms 23:2). Their fragrance would waft from the end of the world to its end." And Solomon, the traditionally attributed author of Song of Songs, captured this perfectly: "And the scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon."

So, what do we take away from all of this? It's more than just a literal interpretation of some beautiful verses. It's about finding sweetness in the learning process, recognizing the spiritual significance in even the simplest things, and understanding that sometimes, the most profound answers come from looking at the world around us – from snails to stone garments, and especially from the green pastures that hint at a deeper, more profound connection to the Divine.