It's deep, it's rich, but sometimes… it feels inaccessible.

That's where stories, analogies, and parables come in. And King Solomon, according to Jewish tradition, was a master of them.

We find this idea explored in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Song of Songs. It begins by looking at a verse in Ecclesiastes (12:9): “Beyond the fact that Kohelet was wise…” (Kohelet is traditionally attributed to Solomon.) The text emphasizes that if anyone else had shared the wisdom found in Ecclesiastes, we should listen. But all the more so because it was Solomon, and even more so because he spoke through the Ruach HaKodesh, the Divine Spirit.

But what exactly did Solomon do? The text goes on to say that he "considered," "investigated," and "composed many proverbs." But there's more to it than just that. He "made ears [oznayim] for the Torah." Oznayim, ears, can also mean handles. The idea is that he made the Torah easier to grasp, more accessible. He gave us a way to hold onto it.

The text then offers a series of beautiful analogies to illustrate this point. Rav Naḥman gives us two. The first is of a grand palace with many entrances where people keep getting lost. A clever person comes along and uses a skein of yarn to mark the correct path. The second analogy is of a thicket of reeds where no one can enter. The clever one cuts a path through it with a scythe. In both cases, someone makes the previously inaccessible accessible. Until Solomon, it suggests, no one could really understand Torah. Once Solomon arose, everyone began to discuss it.

Rabbi Yosei offers another image: a large basket filled with produce but without handles. It can’t be moved. But someone crafts handles, and suddenly it can be carried with ease. Rabbi Sheila uses a similar image, this time with a jug of boiling water too hot to touch—until a handle is added.

Then Rabbi Hanina provides a particularly striking image: a deep well filled with cold, sweet water that no one can reach. A person comes along and ties ropes together, drawing up the water so everyone can drink. The water was always there, the wisdom always present, but it needed a way to be accessed.

These analogies, says the text, shouldn't be seen as trivial. They're the key to unlocking deeper understanding. It's like a king who loses a gold coin or a precious gem in his house. He uses a small candle, a wick worth next to nothing, to find it. (An isar, the text tells us, was a small copper coin.) The small analogy helps us find the great treasure of Torah.

Rabbi Yudan adds a final, crucial point: sharing Torah publicly can lead to the Divine Spirit resting upon you. We learn this from Solomon himself. Because he shared Torah widely, he was blessed with the Ruach HaKodesh and composed the books of Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs.

So, what's the takeaway? Perhaps it's that we all have the potential to be like Solomon, to make the wisdom of the Torah more accessible to ourselves and to others. Maybe it’s that the smallest story, the simplest analogy, can be the key to unlocking profound truths. And maybe, just maybe, by sharing those insights, we can invite a little bit of the Divine Spirit into our own lives.