I’d like to share with you a story, a love story, about a prince and his young bride. The prince in this story is charming, pious, powerful, and benevolent. This is not a new-age Disney story; the prince is worthy of his title. And he falls in love with a young woman. She is destitute, enslaved actually, by a cruel tyrant. But the prince, drawing on all his strength and wisdom rescues the young woman who falls in love with the charming prince.
Their honeymoon, however, does not last long. The bride, likely due to the trauma of her years in captivity, does not have the moral fortitude to withstand temptation, is unfaithful to her new husband. The prince, being kind and gracious, quickly forgives her and they carry on as husband and wife in the prince’s palace.
Tragically, despite all the good the prince has done for his wife, despite the fact that he is a truly noble prince, the princess slowly slips away. She is once again unfaithful to her husband. This time, the husband banishes her from his palace and from his kingdom. There is only so much he could bear.
She spends her years travelling from city to city, country to country. Sometimes she is taken in by the people of the city, but bad luck seems to surround her, and she is banished time and time again. It’s a difficult life and she misses her prince.
Unbeknownst to her, the prince is actually not that far away. Though she cannot see him, he watches over her from a distance, to ensure that she is safe. All the while he waits. Will she ever say I am sorry? Will she ever try to come back home? Will she ever look for me?
One day, the prince is overcome with longing for his wife. He finds the hut that she is sleeping in. He peers through the cracks, he sees his princess; she is aged, she has endured hardships, but she is still the love of his life. He knocks on the door.
No answer.
He calls out, “It’s me! Your husband! Are you there?”
She stirs in her bed. She hears him. But she’s so tired. She hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in months. She groggily opens her eyes and considers getting out of bed.
He knocks again. He calls out. “Please! I am ready to take you back! Please answer the door!”
She’s too tired. She turns over and goes back to sleep.
This story should sound familiar. It’s the story we read this morning, the Book known as Shir Hashirim, the Song of Songs. A charged story of two lovers that is interpreted as a thinly veiled parable to the relationship between G-d, the prince, and his princess, the Jewish People. He rescues, we are unfaithful. He forgives us but before long, we are unfaithful again. He sends us away but ensures that we survive. And at one point, He comes knocking on our door, trying to arouse from our slumber.
Rav Yosef Soloveitchik, in a much-celebrated talk he gave in 1956, dramatized G-d’s knock on our door. He described how G-d, in recent history, knocked on our door, and through that knocking He inspired us to create the State of Israel.
Allow me to quote his opening passage:
“Eight years ago, in the midst of a night of the terrors of Majdanek, Treblinka, and Buchenwald; in a night of gas chambers and crematoria; in a night of total divine self-concealment; in a night ruled by the devil of doubt and destruction who sought to sweep the Lover from her own tent into the Catholic Church; in a night of continuous searching for the Beloved — on that very night the Beloved appeared. The Almighty, who was hiding in His splendid sanctum, suddenly appeared and began to beckon at the tent of the Lover, who tossed and turned on her bed beset by convulsions and the agonies of hell. Because of the beating and knocking at the door of the mournful Lover, the State of Israel was born.”
He goes on to dramatize the knocks in Shir Hashirim, describing six knocks, meaning, six different ways that G-d conveyed to us that He is right here, even though we could not see Him. Six different ways that he tried to get our attention. One of those knocks was the short-lived broad political support that the Jewish People received to create the State of Israel. The second knock was the young State’s ability to overcome the Arab nations who attacked her. The third knock was the shift the State of Israel caused in Christian theology who had to now acknowledge that we were not scorned and pushed away by G-d – something they had claimed for two thousand years. An additional knock of unaffiliated Jews being drawn to Judaism. Another knock, how the world started to realize that Jewish blood is not cheap; we will stand up and protect ourselves at all costs. And the final knock that every Jew now has a home, a place that will take him or her in.
Then, Rav Soloveitchik turned to his audience and challenged them; you hear G-d knocking, don’t you? Will it move you? Will it change you? Will you answer the door? Or will you just turn over and go back to your indifferent sleep?
I shared the following with some of you on Shabbos Hagadol, but I do not apologize for repeating, because it has to be screamed from the rooftops. Two weeks ago today, a diabolical country bent on the destruction of the Jewish People and the Jewish State attacked Israel with 300 projectiles, drones, cruise missiles, and ballistic missiles. As you know, 99% did not make it into Israeli airspace. That was not a knock, ladies and gentlemen. That was G-d picking up a battering ram and smashing it against our door. Do you hear it?
And yes, you can say, “American and Saudi intelligence helped us out. Maybe the Iranians were deliberately shooting duds our way. We have the Iron Dome. It’s nothing.”
Yeah, maybe it’s not a battering ram against my door. Maybe it’s just the wind. Maybe it’s just a garbage can rattling around on the street. Sure, it could be.
But you might want to check. Because it sure sounds like someone is at our door.
The Talmud tells us that King Chizkiyahu, one of the last kings of Judah, was supposed to be the Messianic king. History as we know it was supposed to end right there and then. The mighty Assyrian army had gathered around Jerusalem and besieged it. Then one night, bachatzi halaylah, there was some plague that broke out and killed the entire army; Jerusalem was saved.
King Chizkiyahu, the Talmud tells us, did not sing. He did not break out in song, thanking G-d. He read the news, he posted ‘Am Yisrael Chai,’ on the official King of Judah Twitter account. But he rolled over and went back to sleep.
And because of that, G-d said, “You know, maybe this king is not really fit to bring Mashiach.”
We should have said Hallel two weeks ago. We should have created a holiday. We should have danced from the rooftops. Yes, what happened was cloaked in nature. But anyone with even the least sensitive ears can hear G-d knocking on our door.
What He’s telling us, what He wants us to be doing differently in our lives, how each of us can become a little more faithful to Him and stop hiding from Him, I’ll leave that for each of us to decide.
But at the very least, let’s get up, let’s open the door, let’s say thank you, let’s sing, let’s welcome Him in. Something big is happening. Let’s make sure we do not fall back asleep.