Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
April 18, 2003
Pesach, Song of Songs, Lessons of Love
I don't think it is particularly helpful to view the Bible as a book. The Tanakh, Hebrew scriptures, the Jewish Bible, is really a library of books, a collection of 39 volumes whose content took about 1200 years to write and approximately 700 years to collect and edit.
Five of the shorter volumes were each written on their own scroll, a megillah. Esther is the one we are most familiar with, and it is attached to the holiday of Purim. Song of Songs is studied on Passover; the Book of Ruth on Shavuot; the megillah of Lamentations on Tisha B'Av; and the Book of Ecclesiastes on Sukkot. So in the Jewish library, called the Tanakh, the Song of Songs, Shir Ha-shirim, is one of five short books written on its own scroll and read each year.
The earliest books in our biblical library were admitted into Scripture without question -- they already had the sanctity of a long tradition. But some of the later books were debated. We have records of the discussions as to whether or not certain books should be admitted into the sacred list of scriptural books, the library. You remember that Esther was one of the disputed books because it does not contain a single mention of God and also because its historical authenticity is highly questionable. The books of Ecclesiastes and Job were also the subject of serious debate regarding their acceptability for inclusion in Scripture. The Song of Songs was among the last of the books to enter the sacred collection. Its admission or rejection was the subject of considerable debate. Why?
In this book, God's name is only mentioned once, and only as part of an epithet. When we look at the content of the book, it seems to be a series of rhapsodic love dialogues, vows of passionate love accompanied by descriptions of the human body with Oriental imagery. Some of my ancient colleagues who constituted the censorship board were offended by the frank and earthy description of physical beauty in the Song of Songs.
Furthermore, it is difficult to find a plot, the story line of this book. There are four or five widely differing scholarly theories as to what the book means. Some scholars say Song of Songs is the story of the courtship of King Solomon and a maiden who came from the village of Shulem, and so she is called "the Shulamite." Sometimes this is taken as her proper name, Shulamit. Other scholars say it is the love between a rustic shepherd and his girl, but that King Solomon intervenes and tries to take her to Jerusalem to his household.
Still other commentators point to the fact that it is the custom, even to this day, in Arab lands for wedding festivities to last a week. The bride and groom are described as "king" and "queen"; songs are sung in these celebrations before the "king" and "queen." Similarly, these scholars say, the Song of Songs is just a collection of marriage songs of an ancient rustic wedding celebration. And there are two or three other explanations as well. Now for a little book of eight chapters to have four, five or six different scholarly theories as to its plot is evidence that there is really no plot at all.
So, we might say, in general, that the Song of Songs is a more or less heterogeneous collection of love poems, love dialogues, love songs. The wording is not particularly sacred and the plot, if any, is not particularly clear. So how did this book ever make it into the sacred library of Judaism?
One of the great rabbis of the Talmud, Rabbi Akiba, interrupted his colleagues' debate with a passionate statement. "God forbid, no one ever disputed the sanctity of Shir Ha-shirim, for the whole world is not as worthy as the day in which Shir Ha-shirim was given to Israel. All the Writings are holy, but Shir Ha-shirim is holy of holies."
Wow! The other books in the Bible are sacred, but the Song of Songs is "holy of holies." What motivated Akiba to make such a passionate statement? He sees this story not as a love poem or marriage between a human male and a human female; but, rather as allegory of the love between God Almighty and the People of Israel. The shepherd or the king is God, and God's beloved is the Children of Israel. On the basis of this allegorical interpretation, the debate ended, and Shir Ha-shirim was included in our library.
Now why was this short book, this megillah, attached to Passover? Partly because of the beautiful Ode to Springtime. "Rise up, my beloved, my fair one, and come away! For lo, the winter is past; the rain is over, the cold is gone. The ground is covered with blossoms, the time of pruning has come, and the song of the turtledove is heard. The fig tree is ripening her figs and the vines are in blossom, giving forth their fragrance." Passover is a springtime celebration and the setting of Song of Songs is appropriate. These words, of course, should be familiar because we read them in our Haggadah on Wednesday and Thursday nights.
But there are also some Midrashic explanations. We eat charoset, that sweet mixture which reminds us of the clay paste used by our forefathers in the building of store cities for Pharaoh. What are the primary ingredients of charoset? Apples and nuts. Why apples? Song of Songs 8:5 -- "Under the apple tree I aroused you." The Talmud says that this refers to the righteous Hebrew women in Egypt who would give birth to their children in a field under the apple tree without any help from the midwives who had been ordered by Pharaoh to drown any Hebrew baby boy born in Egypt.
And why nuts? Song of Songs 6:11 -- "I have gone down to a garden of nuts." The Israelites in Egypt are compared to egoz, the nut. Let me explain why. As we look at Akiba's praise again, the Song of Songs is the choicest of songs because in other songs such as the Song at the Sea, Israel praises God. But in Shir Ha-shirim, God praises Israel. "Behold, you are fair, my love." What is the essence of God's praise for Israel? What is our unique distinction, our excellence? "As a lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters."
For centuries, I would even say for millennia, the Children of Israel have been a lily among thorns, a moral people among people steeped in immorality. A peace-loving people among those who worship the sword. A people to whom pekuach nefesh - saving a human life - stood above everything else among mercenary soldiers. A sober people among drunkards. A literate people among illiterates. We retained our high moral standards and continued to pursue our peaceful studies of Tanakh and Talmud, even when surrounded by the bestiality of the Nazis. We did not become brutalized, and we have not been contaminated by the villainies of our neighbors.
So now do you understand why Israel is compared to the egoz, the nut? The Midrash explains: "Just as the nut, when it falls into the dirt, does not become dirty inside; but, rather can be removed from the dirt, washed, rinsed and then eaten; so Israel can cleanse itself from the uncleanness of its surroundings."
Our enemies have refused to acknowledge this. They imputed to us Jews all the disgusting features of their own way of life, even the accusation at this season of Jews murdering Christian children in order to consume their blood. In recent years, some Jew-haters even hurled the epithet "Nazi" at us. Is this not anticipated by the Midrashic interpretation of Song of Songs: "I am black and comely." The rabbis say it means: I am besmirched by my enemies, but I am comely at home.
I cannot resist making this point on this Easter weekend. Anti-Semitic theologians have always been hard-pressed to account for the continued existence of the Jewish People. If, as they claim, we were God's elect only until a "new covenant" was established with the "new Church", then why are we Jews still around? Our role, our task, our mission is supposed to have been taken over by others. We had a chance to convert, but refused. So what concerns these fanatical theologians is how to explain the bewildering persistence of this little People in the face of history and in spite of all persecution. Why have Jews not disappeared?
In contempt for our religion, some hostile theologians would say - Oh, the Jews exist out of sheer stubbornness; like certain animal species, they just refuse to die. Other say they continue in their faith because of their fear of their threatening God. We hear that even today. The God whom Jews worship is worshiped in fear; we cower under Divine threats.
Is not the Song of Songs a refutation of such libel? How grave a misunderstanding of the miracle of our persistence. We have lived with God as a couple lives because their mutual love sustains them. Think about the phrase which we say almost automatically because we learned it as young children. We repeat it every time we come together in worship. Sh'ma Yisrael - hear, O Israel - Adonai is the only one for us. You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your might. You will love God. Our bond with God has always been a love-bond. We love God and we pray that God loves us. With God at our side we have outlived the floods of hatred. Shir Ha-shirim expresses the true secret of our history - "many waters cannot quench our love, nor can the floods overwhelm it."
Those who mistakenly think that Christianity brought the world the lesson of the love of God do not know Scripture very well. The most profound ethical statements in our Bible are couched in the vocabulary of human love. "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." "You shall love the stranger for you were a stranger in the land of Egypt." The same emotional experience which makes human life bitter and sweet, makes the moral life meaningful or meaningless. When do people lack social conscience? When they see themselves as self-sufficient. When they believe "I don't need anybody. What are they doing for me that I should do something for them?" We have all heard these words, perhaps even spoken them. But it is an error to which we are prone if we think we are self-sufficient and that we can rely only on ourselves.
As we mature, we discover that we are never self-sufficient, that other people - not just one, but scores of other people - can make our life bitter or can make it beautiful. We are emotionally involved with each other; we cannot escape each other. Our fate is bound up with one another. Once we realize that our self-sufficiency is a delusion and each other's presence is a social and psychic reality, then we have the foundation of ethics and the love search - "I sought my beloved" - becomes extended into the ethical consciousness - "I seek my brothers and sisters."
It seems to me that the dialogue of the shepherd and his Shulamite is one of the priceless jewels in the crown of Jewish genius. It teaches us that human love is sacred. Song of Songs extolls the physical basis of love without shame or pretense. This serves as the foundation for a spiritual relationship which is the true essence of love and marriage.
Tonight we are celebrating the 50th wedding anniversary of two people who have learned and demonstrated over the years that love is commitment, love is caring, love is service - in fact, service is love in action. Therefore, they exemplify for us the meaning of those beautiful words from Shir Ha-shirim. Ani l'dodi v'dodi li - I belong to my beloved and he to me. May we learn from the wisdom of the Song of Songs and from the example of Jolene and Bob Saizow, whom we now invite to come forward. Amen
Much of what I know of Song of Songs I learned from my rabbi, Dr. Solomon B. Freehof.
The scholarship of Dr. Mendell Lewittes is also incorporated in this message.
