Jewish tradition often uses metaphors to explore those pivotal moments, and today we're diving into one that uses lilies – yes, lilies! – to explain the power of Torah.

We find this beautiful, and somewhat surprising, image in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic commentary on the Song of Songs. The verse being discussed is "Your belly is a pile of wheat, hedged with lilies" (Song of Songs 7:3). Now, "a pile of wheat" is interpreted as referring to the Book of Leviticus.

Why Leviticus? Well, the commentary draws a parallel between the belly and the structure of the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible. Just as the belly is centrally located, with the heart on one side and the legs on the other, so too is Leviticus situated in the middle of the Pentateuch, with two books before it (Genesis and Exodus) and two after it (Numbers and Deuteronomy). Makes sense. It's all about centrality and balance.

But the connection goes deeper. The commentary cleverly links "a pile of wheat" (ḥitim in Hebrew) to "a pile of sins" (ḥata’im), pointing out that Leviticus is filled with laws about sin offerings. As Matnot Kehuna explains, the book meticulously details the processes for atonement and purification.

Now, here's where those lilies come in. The phrase "hedged with lilies" is interpreted as referring to the matters of Torah, which are described as being "as soft as lilies." It's a beautiful image, but what does it mean?

The text elaborates by presenting a couple of scenarios. Imagine a man marrying a woman after investing a lot of time and resources. But then, after their wedding, she realizes she is experiencing her menstrual cycle, rendering her ritually impure according to the laws of niddah. Immediately, they must separate. What prevents him from being with her? What "iron wall" or "iron pillar" stands between them? It's not a physical barrier, but rather the words of the Torah, those "lilies," that gently, yet firmly, prohibit contact during this time, as stated in Leviticus 18:19.

The commentary gives another example: someone offered a tray of delicious meat, but then told that a piece of forbidden fat (chelev) has fallen onto it. Instantly, they refrain from eating. What stops them? Again, it's not a physical force, but the words of Torah – those soft lilies – that declare "You shall not consume any fat or any blood" (Leviticus 3:17).

Rabbi Levi beautifully illustrates the delicate power of Torah. These laws, seemingly soft and gentle like lilies, possess an immense strength. They act as a moral compass, guiding our actions and shaping our choices, even when our desires pull us in a different direction.

So, what can we take away from this image of lilies guarding the wheat? Perhaps it's a reminder that true strength isn't always about brute force. Sometimes, the most profound influence comes from the quiet, unwavering presence of principles that guide us toward a more meaningful life. It also makes us think about how something that appears soft and gentle on the surface can be incredibly powerful in its effect.