Rabbi Akiva’s Time Capsule – The Song of Songs in Context

From the Cardozo Academy Writers Guild

Imagine that civilization was going to be destroyed within five years, and that you were tasked with deciding what literary treasures to preserve? You had a time capsule into which you could put your treasured writings to keep them safe, but there was room for only a few. There was no way to could save them all. What would you choose to preserve? And why? How might you answer future generations when they asked you why this was preserved and not that?

That is the background of the Tanach that we have today.

What to leave and what to take

At the time when the Tanakh (the Hebrew Bible) was being compiled, the rabbis weren’t at all in consensus about what should go in and what should be left out. The Talmud records the bare bones of discussions that, if we could only travel back in time, would fill volumes.[1] Scholars fought for the inclusion of those writings that were dear to them, often against ferocious opposition from their colleagues.

This was during the Roman occupation, and things were going from bad to worse. It was clear that much would be lost in the days to come. But surely something could be preserved. The question was what. What should take precedence?

The Book of Ezekiel, for example, was almost excluded from the Tanakh —or even purposely suppressed. It was thought to be too self-contradictory and mystical, and might lead to confusion. The Talmud (Shabbat 13b) records that Hananya ben Hizkiya took it upon himself to resolve through interpretation all the contradictions in order to save the Book of Ezekiel from obscurity.

Rabbi Akiva’s choice

But perhaps the strangest choice for the canon was Shir HaShirim, the Song of Songs, which we read in synagogues over Pessah. A collection of wedding songs, some of them filled with double entendres and verging on the risqué—songs sung to the bride and groom at their wedding… When it came to selecting those works that would become part of Judaism’s sacred literature, one would not think that a collection of wedding songs would be high on the list!

And yet, there was someone who fought for the inclusion of Song of Songs in the canon. That someone was none other than Rabbi Akiva. Here is how the story is recorded in Mishna:

A place in the World to Come

In fact, Rabbi Akiva did more than just include the Song of Songs in the Tanakh. In the Tosefta, he’s quoted as saying:

It’s clear from this that singing Shir HaShirim was the common practice at wedding banquets, so much so that R’ Akiva says “at [the singing of] Shir HaShirim” ( בשיר השירים בבית המשתה), as if this is a traditional part of the banquet. But note that R’ Akiva is not saying that one shouldn’t sing it at all. Rather, he singles out those who “warble their voice” when singing it. Perhaps this “warbling” of the voice refers to those who try to imitate the various characters in the song, singing in a falsetto for the women’s parts. In any event, he seems to be saying “sing to your heart’s content, but don’t make light of the Song of Songs!”

This would be in keeping with the other things in the Tosefta’s list of those behaviors for which “one has no place in the World to Come”. It’s also in keeping with a similar list in Mishna Sanhedrin (See Mishna 10 and Massechet Sanhedrin 90b). All of these behaviors involve making light of what is holy: pronouncing the Tetragrammaton, using the Name for trivial things, etc.

In keeping with his statement in Mishna Yadayim, R’ Akiva is clear that Shir haShirim is indeed the pinnacle of holiness—not despite it’s being a collection of wedding songs—but precisely because it is a collection of wedding songs!

This is perhaps the source of the greatness of Rabbi Akiva, the man who would later champion a rebellion against Rome, at the cost of a generation; who would pay for this with his life, but only after severe torture at the hands of the Romans. This was Rabbi Akiva, who laughed upon seeing the prophecy fulfilled that “foxes will roam the ruins” of the Temple in Jerusalem, because “if that prophecy has come true, then surely the other will as well”. The other prophecy was the one that foretold the future redemption: “the sound of mirth and gladness, the voice of bridegroom and bride” will be heard once more in the streets of Jerusalem.

And so we come full circle. Not for nothing did Rabbi Akiba fight for the inclusion of a collection of bawdy, but beautiful, wedding songs in the Tanach. He believed—really believed—in the reality we live today. He truly believed that we would return to our land and rebuild, and that weddings would once more be held here. And so he made sure that we would have songs to sing at those future weddings. That is the very definition of faith.

Today, in the modern State of Israel, despite war and loss, and the reality that we once more have to fight for our right to live in our homeland—for all that, we hear once more the voice of the bride and groom in the streets of Jerusalem. We can appreciate Rabbi Akiva’s foresight and faith in a future that he would not live to see, because we ourselves are living in that future.

Notes:

[1] See Shabbat 13b, Ta’anit 7a, Mishna Yadayim 3:5.