And Jewish tradition teaches us this is a dangerous habit, a lesson beautifully illustrated in the interpretation of the verse, "Like the tents of Kedar" (Song of Songs 1:5) found in Shir HaShirim Rabbah.

The tents of Kedar, you see, were known for being… well, not pretty. Black, tattered, worn. Outwardly, they seemed ugly. But the Rabbis of the Midrash ask us to consider what might be inside those tents. What if, despite the rough exterior, they held treasures – gems, pearls, untold riches?

This becomes a powerful metaphor for Torah scholars. The Rabbis suggest that Torah scholars, too, may appear "ugly and black" in this world – perhaps meaning they are humble, unassuming, or even socially awkward. But inwardly? They are filled with the riches of Torah: Bible, Mishna (the core of the Oral Torah), Midrash (interpretive stories), halakhot (Jewish laws), Talmud (the vast legal and ethical compendium), Tosefta (a collection of Tannaitic teachings), and aggada (stories and legends). The true value, the real beauty, lies within.

But the Midrash doesn’t stop there. It continues to unpack the verse, drawing further comparisons and contrasts. If the tents of Kedar don't require laundering, does that mean Israel is always pure? No, the verse counters, "Like the curtains of Solomon." Solomon's curtains get soiled and need cleaning. So too, Israel sins throughout the year, but Yom Kippur arrives to atone for them. As Leviticus 16:30 states, “For on this day He will atone for you.” And Isaiah 1:18 promises, “If your sins will be like scarlet, they will be whitened as snow; if they will be reddened like crimson, they will be like wool.” There is a cycle of imperfection and renewal, stain and cleansing.

What about stability? Are the Jewish people destined to wander like the nomadic tribes who used the tents of Kedar? Again, the verse provides an answer: "Like the curtains of Solomon," specifically, "the curtains of the One [of Whom it may be stated] that the peace is His, the One Who spoke and the world came into being." These curtains, the heavens themselves, haven't moved since creation. Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov adds, citing Isaiah 33:20, "'A tent that will not be displaced [yatzan]' – it will not emerge [yetze] and will not move [yanua]." The Jewish people, despite their wanderings, are ultimately anchored by their covenant with God.

And what about freedom? Were the people of Kedar subject to the yoke of any creature? No! And Rabbi Ḥiyya teaches, drawing from Leviticus 26:13, that God led Israel "upright," "without fear of any creature." This verse, referring to the Exodus from Egypt, is understood as alluding to the future redemption as well.

Finally, Rabbi Yudan brings in the story of Joseph. Joseph, sold to the tents of Kedar (Genesis 37:28), ultimately "purchased his purchasers," acquiring all the land of Egypt (Genesis 47:20). So too, Israel, as Isaiah 14:2 prophesies, "They will be captors of their captors."

So, what's the takeaway? This Midrash on "Like the tents of Kedar" is a powerful reminder to look beyond the surface. To see the value in what might initially appear unattractive or unassuming. To recognize the cycles of sin and atonement in our lives. To trust in the ultimate stability of our connection to God. And to believe in the eventual triumph of the Jewish people. It's a message of hope, resilience, and the enduring power of inner beauty. And that’s something worth pondering, isn’t it?