It's filled with metaphors, and some of them are truly striking. Take this one: "Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon." What does that even mean?
Well, the Rabbis of Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a classic commentary on the Song of Songs, weren't ones to shy away from a good interpretive challenge. They dive right in, finding layers of meaning in this seemingly simple comparison.
First, they point out that just as the nose is the highest point on a person's face, so too was the Temple located on the highest point in the world. It’s a connection of the physical and the spiritual, the personal and the communal.
Then, they note the adornment. The text suggests that just as the nose might have jewelry hanging from it – and while we might not think of nose rings today, the commentary Yefei Kol reminds us that beautiful jewels were indeed used this way – so too do the priesthood, the Levites, and the kingship all descend from Jacob. It's like a lineage of honor, all stemming from one source.
But what about "the tower of Lebanon" itself? Many commentaries, like Matnot Kehuna, suggest the text should actually read, "'Like the tower of Lebanon,' this is the Temple." They connect it to the verse in Deuteronomy (3:25): "This good mountain and the Lebanon." So, the tower isn't just like the Temple, it represents the Temple.
And then the interpretations really take off. Rabbi Tavyomi says the Temple "whitens" (malbin) the iniquities of Israel, like snow, referencing Isaiah (1:18): "If your sins will be like scarlet, they will become white as snow.” It’s a place of purification, a chance for a fresh start. Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai chimes in, saying that all hearts (levavot) rejoice there, echoing Psalms (48:3): "Beautiful in its view, joy of all the land.” And the Rabbis add, it’s because God’s eyes and heart (libi) are there always, as we find in I Kings (9:3).
But the commentary doesn’t stop there! It moves on to the next phrase: "overlooking Damascus." Rabbi Yoḥanan envisions a future Jerusalem expanding all the way to the gates of Damascus, based on a verse in Zechariah (9:1). What is Ḥadrakh mentioned in that verse? Rabbi Yehuda suggests it's a place. But Rabbi Neḥemya offers a more symbolic interpretation: it refers to the messianic king, who is both sharp (ḥad) and gentle (rakh) – sharp with the nations, gentle with Israel. He's destined to guide (lehadrikh) all humankind to repentance.
Wait, Damascus as God's resting place? Isn’t that the Temple’s job? Psalms (132:14) says, "This is My resting place forever." The answer, according to the Rabbis, is that Jerusalem will expand so much that it reaches Damascus, and all the exiles will find rest under its protection.
Rabbi Yoḥanan visualizes Jerusalem expanding like a fig tree, narrow at the bottom and wide at the top, drawing on Jeremiah (30:18). We're told that it will spread "right and left," as Isaiah (54:3) promises. And how far will it expand? From the Tower of Ḥananel to the winepresses of the king, as Zechariah (14:10) tells us. Rabbi Zakkai the Great even says it will reach the pits of Rifa (or Jaffa, according to some).
And it doesn’t just expand horizontally. It expands upward too! Ezekiel (41:7) talks about side-chambers widening and winding higher and higher. It's taught that Jerusalem will ascend and reach the Throne of Glory itself! Imagine that – a city so expansive, so all-encompassing, that even then, you'll say, "The place is crowded for me," as we find in Isaiah (49:20), because of all the returning exiles.
Rabbi Yosei ben Rabbi Yirmeya concludes with a powerful thought: We haven’t even begun to grasp the true praise of Jerusalem. Its praise, he says, comes from its walls, as Zechariah (2:9) declares: "I will be for it, the utterance of the Lord, a wall of fire all around."
So, the next time you read "Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon," remember it's not just a pretty image. It's a gateway to understanding the Temple, the Messiah, and the ultimate destiny of Jerusalem – a city destined for greatness, a beacon of hope and redemption for all. A city whose praises, perhaps, we can only begin to imagine.