Ever felt that sting of doubt, that little voice whispering, "Where is He now?" It's a question that's echoed through the ages, a challenge thrown at the heart of faith itself. And believe it or not, it's right there in the Shir HaShirim Rabbah, the commentary on the Song of Songs.
The verse we're looking at is from Song of Songs 6:1: "Where did your beloved go, fairest of women? Where did your beloved turn, that we may seek him with you?”
But it's the Rabbah, the great commentary, that gives it such a powerful twist. It imagines the nations of the world asking Israel, "Where did your beloved go?"
Think about the weight of that question. The Shir HaShirim Rabbah doesn't shy away from the hard stuff. It acknowledges the times when God's presence feels distant, when miracles seem like distant memories.
The commentary spells it out. The nations are saying, "In the past, God performed wonders for you in Egypt, at the sea, and at Sinai; but where is He now? He has abandoned you." Ouch. Can you feel the taunt? The implication that the divine connection is broken, a thing of the past?
Egypt, the Exodus, the splitting of the sea... all undeniable signs of divine intervention. Sinai, where the Torah itself was given! But what about now? Where is that kind of clear, world-altering presence today? It's a question that cuts deep, especially when you're facing hardship and uncertainty.
So, how does Israel respond? This is where it gets really beautiful. The congregation of Israel doesn't try to deny the apparent absence. Instead, they offer a profound statement of unwavering faith. "Why are you asking about Him, while you have no share in Him?"
It’s a powerful retort. You see, the connection between Israel and God, in this view, isn't based on fleeting miracles or grand displays of power. It's something deeper, something intrinsic.
And it continues: "Now that I have cleaved to Him, am I able to separate from Him? Now that He has cleaved to me, can He separate from me? Wherever He is, He comes to me.”
It's a declaration of devekut (דְּבֵקוּת), that mystical clinging, that deep and abiding connection. The relationship isn't conditional. It's not dependent on constant proof or instant gratification. It's a bond forged in history, strengthened through trials, and sustained by unwavering commitment.
Wherever He is, He comes to me. Think about the implications of that line. It's not about needing God to be in a specific place or time. It's about recognizing that the connection transcends physical limitations. It’s about the constant potential for encounter, the promise that even in the darkest of times, the divine presence is accessible to those who seek it with a sincere heart.
So, the next time you find yourself wondering, "Where is He now?" remember the response of Israel in the Shir HaShirim Rabbah. Remember that the bond, once forged, is not easily broken. Remember that devekut means sticking with it, even when you don't see the signs. Because sometimes, the greatest miracles are the quiet, persistent whispers of faith that echo within our own hearts.