Ever read the Song of Songs and thought, "Wow, that's...intense?" It's a book of love poetry, after all, and some of the imagery can feel pretty direct. Take the verse, "How fair are your feet in sandals, daughter of a nobleman. Your rounded thighs are like ornaments, the handiwork of a master craftsman" (Song of Songs 7:2).
Now, Rabbi Yudan, in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, raises a good point: is this really just about feet? Praising someone, even an ordinary person, with such language might feel a little…demeaning. So, what's really going on here?
The Rabbis, in their infinite wisdom, often looked beyond the literal. They saw layers of meaning, hidden depths waiting to be uncovered. Rabbi Yudan suggests that the verse isn't about physical feet at all. Instead, it's about the "steps" (paamei) of the pilgrimage festivals. This interpretation comes from the Torah itself, which states, "Three times (pe'amim) a year, all your males shall appear before the Lord God" (Exodus 23:17). So, the verse becomes a praise of Israel's dedication in traveling to Jerusalem for these special holidays.
But wait, there's more! What about the fact that feet are sometimes bare, sometimes covered? It doesn’t quite fit. Another interpretation, found in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, suggests the verse praises Israel for observing mitzvot (commandments) related to shoes, specifically the ritual of ḥalitza (the ceremony where a widow removes the shoe of her brother-in-law who refuses to marry her). And who is this "daughter of a nobleman"? Why, that's Israel, the "daughter of my beloved," because Abraham was so beloved by God!
Rabbi Berekhya even shares a teaching attributed to "two mountains of the world," Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua. They say that the merit of traveling to Jerusalem for these festivals was so great that it served as a barrier against troubles. Imagine that – your devotion acting as a shield.
And this isn't just a nice idea. Shir HaShirim Rabbah goes on to illustrate it with stories, anecdotes that bring this concept to life. We hear of someone who forgets to lock their doors before heading to Jerusalem, only to find a snake guarding their home upon their return. Another leaves their chickens unprotected, but finds cats torn to pieces before them, the chickens unharmed. A pile of wheat is left unguarded, but lions stand sentinel around it. These aren't just lucky coincidences; they are examples of divine protection.
Rabbi Pinḥas tells of two wealthy brothers from Ashkelon with wicked neighbors. These neighbors planned to loot and destroy the brothers' homes while they were away in Jerusalem. But God sent angels in their image to watch over their houses. When the brothers returned and generously shared what they brought back from Jerusalem, the neighbors were astonished. They confessed their evil intentions and marveled at the power of the God of the Jews, who protected those who trusted in Him. "Blessed is the God of the Jews, whom they did not forsake, and He did not forsake them... their God sent angels in their image who would go in and out of their houses, because they put their trust in Him," fulfilling the promise of "How fair are your feet."
These stories, rooted in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, aren't just quaint tales. They are powerful reminders that our actions, our devotion, and our trust in something greater than ourselves can create a shield of protection, a buffer against the challenges of the world. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What "steps" are we taking that might be fairer than we realize, more powerful than we imagine? What blessings might we be unknowingly inviting into our lives simply by showing up, by making the journey, by putting our faith into action?