Like one day you're just going about your business, and the next you're... somewhere else entirely? The ancient rabbis grappled with this feeling, this almost bewildered sense of elevation, and they found a powerful expression of it in the Shir HaShirim Rabbah, the commentary on the Song of Songs.

Specifically, they focused on the verse, "I did not know; my soul placed me upon chariots of my noble people" (Song of Songs 6:12). What does it mean to not know how you got where you are?

Rabbi Ḥiyya offers a beautiful parable. Imagine a king's daughter, forced to gather leftover grain in the fields – a truly humble task. Then, the king recognizes her! He sends for her, and suddenly, she's seated beside him in his royal carriage. Her old friends are astonished. "Yesterday, you were gleaning in the fields, and today you're riding with the king?!" The princess, just as surprised, exclaims, "Just as you are astonished about me, so I am astonished about myself. I did not know; my soul placed me."

This image, of unexpected elevation, resonated deeply. The rabbis saw it reflected in the story of Israel itself. Remember their time in Egypt? Enslaved, building with mortar and bricks, despised by the Egyptians. Then, liberation! Freedom! Suddenly, they are elevated above all nations. As we find in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, the nations of the world were astonished. "Yesterday you were working with mortar and bricks, and now you have become free men, elevated over the entire world?" And Israel responds, echoing the princess, "Just as you are astonished about us, so are we astonished about ourselves. We did not know; my soul placed me."

The rabbis don't stop there. They see this theme of sudden, unexpected elevation echoed throughout Jewish history.

Think about Joseph. As it says in Psalms 105:18, "they tortured his legs with chains; his body was placed in irons." One day he's a prisoner, the next, as we see in Genesis 42:6, "Joseph is the ruler over the land." He too could have exclaimed, "I did not know; my soul placed me!"

And what about David? Hiding, fleeing from Saul for his life, and then, suddenly, he's king! The same sentiment applies.

Then there's Mordechai. Remember in Esther 4:1, "he donned sackcloth and ashes" in mourning. But then, in Esther 8:15, "Mordechai emerged from before the king in royal garments of sky-blue and white…" A truly astonishing transformation! He too embodies this verse.

Even in times of exile and suffering, the congregation of Israel can declare to the nations, as it says in Micah 7:8, "Do not rejoice over me, my enemy, for though I fell, I will rise." As we also see in Micah 7:8, "Though I sit in the darkness, the Lord is a light to me." Even in darkness, there's the potential for sudden, unexpected light. "I did not know; my soul placed me."

The Shir HaShirim Rabbah even tells a story about a tailor from Tzippori named Yusta. Yusta, the tailor, somehow finds favor with the king, who offers him anything he desires. Yusta asks to be made governor of his hometown. The king grants his wish.

When Yusta returns to Tzippori, now a governor, people can barely believe it. "Is that really him?" they wonder. They devise a test: Does he still look longingly at his old tailoring stall? He does. Recognizing him, Yusta says, "You are astonished about me, but I am astonished about myself more than you are!" He too didn't see it coming. "I did not know; my soul placed me…"

The passage concludes with a beautiful play on words. The phrase "my noble people" – ami – is connected to "the noble One accompanied me" – imi – referring to God, the One who lives eternally. It's a reminder that even in these moments of unexpected elevation, we are never truly alone. The Divine is with us, guiding us, even when we don't understand the path we're on.

So, what does all this mean for us? Perhaps it's a reminder to stay open to the unexpected. To recognize the moments when life takes us by surprise and elevates us beyond our own expectations. And to remember, even in those moments, that we are accompanied by something greater than ourselves. To acknowledge the wonder, the astonishment, and the humility that comes with realizing, "I did not know; my soul placed me."