They found ways to see even those challenging forces as a path towards the Divine. Let's dive into a fascinating interpretation of a verse from Shir HaShirim, the Song of Songs, explored in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations.

The verse in question is "Draw me [moshkheni]; we will run after you" (Song of Songs 1:4). Simple enough, right? But the rabbis, masters of wordplay and layered meaning, see so much more. Rabbi Azarya suggests the congregation of Israel is saying to God, "Because You gave me the plunder of my neighbors...we will run after You." He connects the word moshkeni, "draw me," to mishkenai, "from my neighbors." The idea is that the spoils taken from Egypt, Sihon, Og, and the thirty-one kings fuel the Israelites' desire to follow God.

It’s a bit unsettling, isn't it? Does it mean we only follow when things are going well, when we're benefiting? Maybe. Or maybe it's an acknowledgement that even blessings can be a catalyst, a reminder of God's presence in our lives.

But the interpretations don't stop there. Rabbi Avun offers another perspective, seeing the "drawing" as a response to hardship. He uses the analogy of a noblewoman whose king is angry with her and incites her neighbors against her. In desperation, she cries out, "My lord the king, rescue me!" Similarly, the Israelites, facing enemies like the Sidonites and Amalek, call out to God. “Sidonites, Amalek, and you called to Me and I rescued you from their hand" (Judges 10:12).

The idea here is profound: sometimes it's the very things that threaten to tear us apart that drive us closer to what truly matters.

Then comes another layer. What if "draw me" means "you endanger me [maskineni]," or "you make me impoverished [memaskeini]"? Rabbi Aḥa says a Jew requires the carob to repent. Carobs were a cheap food, associated with the poor. The implication? Economic hardship can lead to repentance. Rabbi Akiva even says, "Poverty is appropriate for the daughter of Jacob like a [decorative] red strap on the neck of a white horse." A rather startling analogy, but it makes the point: even deprivation can have a strange beauty, a way of focusing the mind and soul.

And yet another twist: "draw me" could mean "from the collateral that You have taken from me [mashkineni], we will run after You." Rabbi Menaḥama, citing Rabbi Yoḥanan, connects this to the destruction of the two Temples. He states, "We have done injury [ḥavol ḥavalnu] to you" (Nehemiah 1:7), referring to the destruction of the two Temples, taken as collateral for Israel's sins. The trauma of destruction, the loss of something so central, can be a powerful motivator for change, for return.

Rabbi Berekhya, in the name of Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Ilai, brings in the story of Moses leading the Israelites after the Red Sea. He led them away from the sin at the sea, and they pledged to follow him wherever he went, from Eilim to Alush to Mara to Refidim and finally to Sinai. The rabbis compare this to a man marrying a woman from a village. He tells her all the places he will take her, and she says, "To wherever you go and take me, I will go with you." Similarly, Israel says: “My soul cleaves after You” (Psalms 63:9). It is a commitment to follow, regardless of the path.

Finally, Rabbi Yosei bar Ika encapsulates it all: "Draw me; we will run after you"—if to Bible, to Bible; if to Mishna, to Mishna; if to Talmud, to Talmud; if to Tosefta, to Tosefta; if to aggada, to aggada. In other words, wherever the path leads – through scripture, law, stories – we are committed to the journey.

So, what does all this mean for us today? It suggests that the forces that "draw" us – whether they are blessings or hardships, external pressures or internal struggles – can all be seen as opportunities to run towards something greater. It's a reminder that even in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, there is a path to be found, a connection to be made, a journey to be undertaken.