We know the science, the orbits, the rotations... But what about the story behind it all? What's the cosmic drama unfolding behind the scenes of our everyday sunrise and sunset?
Well, according to the ancient rabbis, it's quite a tale. Rav tells us that before the sun and moon grace us with their light each day, they have to ask permission from the Holy One, blessed be He. Can you imagine? These celestial bodies, these massive balls of light and rock, approaching the Divine Presence itself.
But here's the thing: the sheer intensity of God's presence is almost too much for them. Their "eyes dim," Rav says, overwhelmed by the aura. They want to shine, they want to illuminate the world, but they're practically blinded. What does God do? According to Rav, He "shoots arrows before them," guiding them with bursts of light. It's an image straight out of a superhero comic, isn't it? This idea is even hinted at in the prophet Habakkuk (3:11): “The sun, the moon stand in their abode; by the light of Your arrows they will go, by the glow of the flash of Your spear.”
And it gets even more intense. Rabbi Hoshaya son of Rabbi Simlai, citing Rabbi Yitzḥak bar Ze’eira, paints a vivid picture: the orb of the sun, before it sets, becomes "like a round spot of blood." A powerful, almost unsettling image, right? What could this mean? The text connects this to a verse from Psalms (19:5-6), comparing the sun to a bridegroom or a warrior running his course (oraḥ). But oraḥ, interestingly enough, is also used in reference to the menstrual cycle, as we see in Genesis 18:11 regarding Sarah. So, the setting sun, in its fiery redness, is linked to themes of completion, renewal, and perhaps even vulnerability.
But there's a twist. Rabbi Levi offers another perspective. Each day, he says, God sits in judgment of the sun and moon, because they're reluctant to shine! Why? "The people indict us, the people prostrate themselves to us," they complain. In other words, humanity is worshipping them, turning them into idols. God will punish not only the idolators but also that which they worshipped. (Matnot Kehuna)
Rabbi Yusta bar Shunem adds that God forces them to do it! They emerge and illuminate the world against their will. This is connected to Zephaniah 3:5: “Each morning He brings His judgment to light; it does not fail [lo nedar].” Lo nedar, meaning it does not cease. The sun and moon have no choice but to fulfill their purpose, even though their light is being misused.
The text then adds, "But the unjust knows no shame" (Zephaniah 3:5). People continue to worship them, even when they see the sun and moon "stricken" during eclipses. The ancient rabbis saw eclipses as punishments, warnings. Yet, people persisted in their idolatry.
And after all this cosmic drama, the passage concludes with a seemingly simple statement: "They shall take to you…olive oil.” This is a reference to the menorah, the lampstand, in the Temple. Even though God is the master of all light, forcing even the sun and moon to shine, He still asks for our small contribution, our humble offering of light. It's as if to say, "Yes, the universe is vast and complex, and My power is beyond comprehension. But your actions, your choices, your willingness to bring light into the world – that matters too."
So, what does it all mean? This passage isn't just about the sun and moon; it's about our relationship with the Divine, our responsibility to use the gifts we're given wisely, and the constant struggle between light and darkness, both within ourselves and in the world around us. It reminds us that even the most powerful forces in the universe are subject to a higher power, and that even the smallest act of kindness, of bringing light to another person, is a sacred act.