Shir HaShirim Rabbah, the commentary on the Song of Songs, delves into this very question, taking a single verse – "How fair you are and how pleasant you are, love, in delights" (Song of Songs 7:7) – and unpacking its layers of meaning.
The Midrash doesn’t just see physical beauty. Instead, it interprets "How fair you are and how pleasant you are" as a reflection of our relationship with mitzvot, with commandments. "How fair you are in the mitzvot, how pleasant you are in the performance of acts of kindness." It’s a beautiful idea, isn't it? That our actions, especially acts of kindness, contribute to our beauty, to our pleasantness in the eyes of God.
The text goes on to break down this idea even further. "How fair you are in positive mitzvot, and how pleasant you are in prohibitions." In other words, it's not just about doing what we're told, but also about avoiding what we're told not to do. The beauty lies in both the active and the passive, in the "yes" and the "no."
It then gets wonderfully specific. “How fair you are in the mitzvot of the house, in the distribution of teruma and tithes, and how pleasant you are in the mitzvot of the field, in gleanings, forgotten sheaves, produce in the corner of the field, the tithe given to the poor, and in renunciation of ownership." These are all agricultural laws from the Torah. Teruma is a portion of the harvest given to the priests. Gleanings, forgotten sheaves, and the produce left in the corner of the field were all provisions for the poor. The Midrash is saying that there’s beauty in remembering the less fortunate, in ensuring that everyone has enough.
It continues, "How fair you are in kilayim (diverse kinds), and how pleasant you are in a garment with tzitzit (ritual fringes)." This is fascinating! Kilayim refers to forbidden mixtures, like combining wool and linen. But the tzitzit, the fringes on a garment, could include blue-dyed wool strings even on a linen garment! So, even within restrictions, there's still room for beauty, for fulfilling other commandments.
We also see, "How fair you are in planting, and how pleasant you are in orlah." Orlah refers to the first three years of a tree's fruit, which are forbidden to be eaten or used. It takes patience and delayed gratification to observe this mitzvah, and that, the Midrash implies, is beautiful. And it continues: "How fair you are in the produce of the fourth year and how pleasant you are in circumcision. How fair you are in uncovering and how pleasant you are in prayer. How fair you are in the reciting of Shema and how pleasant you are in mezuza. How fair you are in tefillin and how pleasant you are in sukka. How fair you are in lulav and how pleasant you are in repentance. How fair you are in good deeds and how pleasant you are in this world. How fair you are in the World to Come and how pleasant you are in the messianic era."
The list goes on, encompassing so many aspects of Jewish life – from agricultural practices to ritual objects like mezuza (a parchment scroll affixed to doorframes) and tefillin (phylacteries worn during prayer), to repentance and good deeds. Each one, the Midrash suggests, contributes to our overall beauty and pleasantness, not just in this world, but in the World to Come, during the Messianic era.
Finally, the text shifts its focus to "love, in delights." Here, it uses the examples of Abraham and Daniel, figures who refused to be beholden to earthly rewards. Abraham, as we read in Genesis 14:22-23, refused to accept gifts from the King of Sodom, declaring, "I have raised my hand to the Lord…if so much as a thread to a shoelace, [or if I will take from anything of yours." Similarly, Daniel, in Daniel 5:17, tells Belshazzar, "Let your gifts be for you, and your grants give to another."
Rabbi Abba bar Kahana offers an interesting interpretation of Daniel’s words, suggesting that the term "Nevoz" refers to the head or governor. Rabbi Berekhya, on the other hand, suggests it means "your plunders," implying that Belshazzar and his ancestors were plunderers. The parable adds a layer: "From one who inherited and not from one who plundered." In other words, true delight comes not from ill-gotten gains, but from honest work and inherited values.
So, what does it all mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that beauty isn't just skin deep. It's woven into the fabric of our lives, in the choices we make, the actions we take, and the values we uphold. It's in our commitment to mitzvot, to acts of kindness, and to living a life of integrity. It’s a beauty that resonates far beyond the present moment, echoing into eternity. And maybe, just maybe, that's the most beautiful thing of all.