We're looking at verse 4:12-13: “A locked garden is my sister, my bride; a locked fountainhead, a sealed spring. Your branches are an orchard of pomegranates, with delicious fruit, henna with nard.” Beautiful imagery, right? But what does it all mean?

The rabbis of the Midrash see in this verse a powerful statement about the people of Israel, particularly during their enslavement in Egypt. The core idea? Maintaining their moral integrity was key to their eventual freedom.

Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Simon, in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi, tells a story about a king with two daughters whose reputations are questioned. To prove their innocence, each daughter produces her husband's seal and signet, symbols of their fidelity. The king then vindicates them. This is an allegory for how God defends Israel against accusations of immorality from the nations of the world. The nations taunted Israel, saying that if the Egyptians enslaved them, surely they must have also taken advantage of the Israelite women. But God proclaims, "My sister, My bride, a locked garden!" Implying that the women of Israel remained faithful to their husbands, even in the face of oppression.

Rabbi Pinḥas adds that God even instructed the angel in charge of pregnancy to ensure the children born in Egypt resembled their fathers, further proving their lineage and faithfulness. "The families of the Reubenites [haReuveni]" (Numbers 26:7), for example, looked just like Reuben himself!

But why this emphasis on sexual morality? Rabbi Huna, in the name of bar Kappara, states that Israel was redeemed from Egypt because of four things: they didn't change their names, their language, they didn't speak slander, and they weren't steeped in licentiousness. They remained true to themselves and to their covenant with God. Even the Hebrew language was preserved, as we see in Genesis 14:13: "The survivor came and told Abram the Hebrew" and Exodus 5:3: "The God of the Hebrews has called upon us."

The Midrash acknowledges one exception: the son of an Israelite woman and an Egyptian man (Leviticus 24:10-11). This is not to condemn, but to highlight the rarity of such occurrences. Rabbi Abba bar Kahana says that the merit of Sarah and Joseph, who both resisted temptation in Egypt, protected all the Israelite women and men, respectively.

Rabbi Pinḥas, in the name of Rabbi Ḥiyya, goes even further, suggesting that this commitment to sexual morality alone would have been enough to merit redemption. "A locked garden is my sister, my bride," followed by, "Your branches [shelaḥayikh] are an orchard of pomegranates" – a clever wordplay linking their virtue to their being "sent [lehishalaḥ]" from Egypt.

Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai illustrates this with a parable: Imagine someone inheriting land that looks like a garbage dump. Lazy, they sell it for next to nothing. But the buyer digs, finds treasure, and builds a palace! The original owner, seeing this, is filled with regret. Similarly, the Egyptians, who saw the Israelites as enslaved and contemptible, mourned when they witnessed their triumphant departure from Egypt, realizing what they had lost.

Other rabbis offer similar parables: a field sold cheaply that becomes a source of springs and gardens, or chopped-down cedars transformed into beautiful furniture. In each case, the seller regrets not seeing the potential value.

So, what's the takeaway? This passage isn't just about sex. It's about the power of maintaining our integrity, our values, even when faced with immense challenges. It's about recognizing the inherent worth within ourselves and our community, even when others don't. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most powerful act of resistance is simply staying true to who we are. And that, my friends, is a powerful thought to carry with us.