She was last seen in the guarded chamber of Solomon, a chamber fortified by sixty mighty warriors, trained in the art of war. Their swords ever-ready at their hips, and yet none drew them as she passed. What stayed their hands? Why didn't they stop her? * Inspired by the rich spiritual symbolism of the commentary of Malbim.
by Rabbi Boruch Merkur
In the stillness of night, upon her solitary bed, she begins to search for him—the One her soul loves. Restless and unfulfilled, she rises from her place, embarking on a quiet quest for her Divine Companion. It is not just a single night that finds her yearning but many, the hours stretching into a continuum of sacred yearning.
Here, in a chamber far removed from the Divine, she contemplates the absence that envelops her. She once experienced an earthly love but now understands that her true Shepherd eludes her, no matter how arduously she searches in the folds of the temporal world. It is not within the lavish chambers and amongst the intricacies of material success that she will find him.
Her eyes, once confined to the minutiae of worldly matters, now yearn to see beyond the horizon. She seeks something deeper, a connection that transcends the ephemeral satisfaction offered by her earthly surroundings. The distractions and allure of the material world have ceased to bring her comfort.
Thus, she ventures forth from the walled city, her own entrapments, and into the expansive wilderness. It is in this deserted place, far from the distractions and illusions that shroud her vision, that she yearns to reunite with her Shepherd. Here, in a realm that transcends matter, where the daughters of Jerusalem—the earthly impulses that once swayed her—can no longer keep her from her quest, she feels the renewed promise of finding him.
And it is within this wilderness that her Shepherd does indeed appear to her once again, manifesting with a love that is both divine and intimate. Even when forces seek to separate them, their connection remains unbreakable. Here, amidst the sand and sky, her soul is spread out, touching upon the Divine. The wilderness, often seen as a place of lack, becomes for her a sacred space brimming with potential, where the soul unfurls to meet its Maker.
She understands now that her material encumbrances, symbolized by the city, could not keep her Shepherd from her, nor could they quell her own spiritual yearnings. Her soul and her Shepherd find a home in each other, in a love that is both endless and eternal. Even if she has to search in the darkest hours, her journey is validated, for he is not a God confined to stone temples or ritualistic practices; he is the ever-present Companion of her soul.
As she stands in the wilderness, far removed from her former life, a transformation envelops her. In this new context, her previous attachments and distractions dissolve into irrelevance. Her eyes meet those of her Shepherd, and in that divine gaze, she finds all that she has been seeking: a love that is eternal, a connection that is unbreakable, and a wisdom that transcends all understanding.
With her yearning finally met, yet ever continuous, she understands that this is but another chapter in an ongoing narrative, a journey without end. She looks ahead, ready to discover what new revelations await them both, as their eternal love story unfolds. And so, she walks hand in hand with her Shepherd, into the expanse of the wilderness and beyond, infinitely searching and eternally found.
With a heavy sigh, she rises from her bed, driven by an insatiable yearning. In this allegory, her bed represents a comfortable state of physicality, a realm where the soul is ensconced in corporeal trappings. But she is no longer content to lie there; her quest is one for her Beloved, for something—someone—beyond the corporeal. So she wanders through the city.
The city, a confluence of myriad energies and forces, represents the complex interplay of her bodily faculties. It's a busy place, a collection of specialized homes for wisdom, understanding, and memory, alongside homes of passion, humility, and courage. Each energy and force has its own dedicated place, whether it emanates from the intellect seated in the brain, the vitality housed in the heart, or the growth and sustenance rooted in the liver.
She seeks him in the marketplaces and broad squares of the city, the public spaces where the energies come together to trade, to converse, to interact. These are the areas where faculties like seeing, hearing, and smelling congregate with emotional traits like pride, humility, and compassion. Here, too, physical needs like eating and drinking make their presence known. It's a bustling hub, a focal point of collective energies, yet he is not there.
And as she traverses these areas, the wisdom crystallizes: she won't find her Beloved through physical means alone. The breadth of her search through the energies and faculties of her body, as encompassing as they may be, is insufficient. Even if she engages with her more encompassing faculties, the collective energies that represent the marketplaces and squares, she cannot attain that prophetic grasp she yearns for. Not while she still remains within the city, within the material confines of her body.
For her quest is a spiritual one. To truly find him, she needs to transcend, to step outside these corporeal boundaries. She realizes, as she combs through every nook and cranny of her 'city', that her Beloved is not something she can grasp while tied to the material world. She must go beyond. Even though her search in the city proves fruitless, it's a revelation.
She sought him, but did not find him. Yet, in the very act of seeking, of venturing through the complexities of her own faculties and energies, she gains a new understanding. It is an understanding fraught with paradox: she must go beyond where she has looked, for her Beloved is not bound by place or faculty. She must transcend the city itself, to find what her soul truly seeks.
In a palpable shift, she finds herself at the outskirts of the city, where the guardians stand at the city gates. This isn't a mere landmark in the city, but a significant spiritual boundary. The city, a representation of her corporeal state and worldly concerns, has been transcended. Here, the guardians are not just sentinels, but symbolize the final limits of life itself—her final chance to either advance or retreat in her spiritual quest.
The moment is fraught with gravity, akin to standing on the very edge of consciousness. If she crosses this last frontier, she would step outside the city's confines and, metaphorically, transition beyond her present state of being. It's the existential choice between the comfort of the known and the transformative potential of the unknown.
With the guardians as her audience, she poses the question, pulsating through her like an existential heartbeat: "Have you seen the one my soul loves?"
She has already abandoned her community, distanced herself from the encompassing forces of the mundane, to embark upon this profound journey. It's a quest that has drawn her away from superficial distractions and closer to her core desire: to find her Beloved. Her question reflects a yearning so intense that it seems as though her soul is almost departing her earthly form, yearning for that celestial connection.
The guardians perceive her inquiry not as a casual question but as a profound search, resonating with her immense desire to find that which completes her soul. Their answer could either propel her into a transformative encounter with her Beloved or redirect her back into the city, back to a life of limited boundaries.
The stakes are high, but her query is straightforward, a distillation of her heart's deepest desire: "Have you seen the one my soul loves?" In her utterance, she embodies the very essence of human striving, that relentless pursuit of the profound, the meaningful, and the eternal.
Now, at the edge of her old world, she stands ready for whatever may come, her spirit humming with a mixture of hope, anticipation, and, most importantly, love.
Stepping just beyond the watchmen who symbolize the threshold between the earthly and the celestial, her heart fills with a sense of completion, like a prophecy fulfilled. There he is—her Beloved, the anchor of her soul.
She clasps his hand firmly, her grip symbolizing an unspoken vow: "I will not let go." Her resolve now crystallizes into a singular intention—she will bring him into the abode of her mother, into the intimate chamber of her upbringing. This time, their union will not be transient or elusive; it will be as steadfast as the mountains that encircle Jerusalem.
No longer are they confined to fleeting moments when her Beloved would withdraw to the heavens after brief episodes of Divine revelation. Now, the Shechinah has a constant dwelling among the people, manifesting as a Sanctuary, a permanent Home where the Divine and the earthly merge. The metaphysical has coalesced into the physical; the abstraction of their love has found a concrete expression.
With this newfound sanctuary, her body and her community have become the long-anticipated dwelling place for her Beloved. Her very being is transformed into a sanctum, where the Divine Presence will reside eternally. More specifically, her innermost chamber becomes the Holy of Holies, upon the wings of the Cherubim of her inner aspirations.
Guided by this profound realization, she walks forward, her Beloved's hand firmly in her own. No longer does she envision him as a transient guest; instead, he has become a permanent resident in her internal world, forever changing the landscape of her soul. With each step, they cross not merely the distance but also transcend the limitations that once separated them, entering a domain of eternal unity.
She leads him, step by careful step, into the sanctuary that her life has now become. Her most intimate spaces—represented as the house of her mother and the chamber of her upbringing—await their arrival, ready to host this eternal love. The wings of the Cherubim, the highest aspirations of her soul, spread wide to enshrine this union, creating a space where the Divine Presence can finally, fully, come to rest.
Emerging from the profound realization of their newfound unity, her soul still reverberating with the sanctuary's sacred silence, she finds herself amidst the daughters of Jerusalem—those symbolic guardians of the city's spiritual essence. They've been roused, as though awakened from their slumber, by the undercurrents of transformation that her union with her Beloved has instigated. Yet, she cautions them, her words soaked with the gravity of the revelation she's just experienced.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or by the hinds of the field, that you not stir up, nor awaken love until it pleases.
The charge is as much a plea as it is a command: a call for patience and discretion, a call to respect the delicate, almost fragile nature of Divine love. It's an urging to refrain from artificial or forced spiritual awakenings, to allow love to emerge in its own time, much like a tender bud blossoming at the first touch of spring.
She speaks with the authority of one who has herself crossed the threshold, who has ventured into the inner chambers and tasted the sweetness of a love that is both earthly and Divine. Her warning to the daughters of Jerusalem is also a reflection on her own journey, a journey that has led her to this pivotal moment where the transient becomes permanent, where the Divine finds a home among the physical.
She's well aware that this love, once roused prematurely, risks becoming a fleeting emotion, lacking in depth and resonance. It needs to be cultivated in the quiet, in the silent places of the soul, until it emerges in its fullness, robust and resilient, capable of withstanding the trials that life will inevitably bring.
The gazelles and hinds of the field she invokes symbolize the spontaneity and grace with which love ought to unfold—naturally, effortlessly, almost instinctually. To rush this process is to do a disservice to love's profound potential. Love should not be a captive, stirred by external forces; it should be a free spirit, roused only by an intrinsic readiness.
Thus, the daughters of Jerusalem stand hushed, their eager energies tempered by her solemn words. It is a moment of pause, a collective inhalation before the next chapter of this unfolding spiritual saga, a brief interlude in which love—in its most Divine form—gains the space it needs to flourish.
In a place where both wilderness and royalty converge, all eyes turn to behold a mysterious emergence. "Who is this ascending from the wilderness?" the onlookers wonder, struck by the spectacle before them. She ascends like pillars of smoke, exuding scents of myrrh and frankincense. The sight is so paradoxical that it becomes a marvel unto itself. She was last seen in the guarded chamber of Solomon, a chamber fortified by sixty mighty warriors, trained in the art of war. Their swords ever-ready at their hips, and yet none drew them as she passed. What stayed their hands? Why didn't they stop her?
Her exit from the guarded chamber into the wilderness is unlike any other; it defies the natural order. Her very presence feels like a whispered prophecy, an anomaly that escapes the tight net of the world's logic. The scent she carries, redolent of myrrh and frankincense, hints at something deeper. It's as if the very essence of her soul is mingling with these perfumes, embodying the highest virtues of life and vitality. This sacred aroma is not just physical; it's an emanation of her spiritual ascent. Each fragrance she exudes is an invisible thread woven into the very fabric of her being, hinting at both her origin and her destination.
Here, she challenges boundaries—defying the warriors, defying Solomon's chamber, and now, existing simultaneously in the harsh wilderness and in an aura of sanctified fragrances. She has undergone an inner alchemy; the course elements of her nature have been distilled into pure essence. Myrrh, evocative of life's vitality, and frankincense, resonant with spiritual growth, are not merely scents she wears; they define her. She is the wisdom of these fragrances, actualized.
Her being is a question posed to the cosmos, demanding an understanding of how such an enigmatic transformation is possible. And yet, the wisdom she carries doesn't come with an easy answer, as if to say the beauty of a mystery lies in the seeking, not just the finding.
The warriors are not the only ones struck with awe; even those who witness her ascent from the wilderness find themselves wrapped in the enigma she embodies. As they watch, the mystery deepens, but they intuit that her journey has far-reaching implications, a sign of something greater yet to come. Each step she takes seems like a fulfillment of an unwritten prophecy, a narrative that is both timeless and immediate, altering the world around her even as she remains unaltered—a living testament to a wisdom that is both eternal and ever new.
Behold, the bed of Solomon is surrounded by sixty mighty men, warriors of Israel.
In the garden of existence, where soul and body meet in an intimate embrace, there exists a fortress, a stronghold not easily breached. The bed of Solomon here is more than mere furniture; it is the architecture of the human body, the vessel that cradles the soul. Guarded by sixty mighty men, these are the elements that make up the framework of life, the pillars of flesh and bone that encase the eternal soul. They are the warriors, bound by the will to keep the soul secured, to prevent her departure from this earthly realm.
These sixty warriors are intricately fashioned components of the body—limbs, sinews, and organs—aligned in defensive formation around the soul. They are divided into outer and inner rings, each playing a role in the grand scheme of existence, each serving as guardian in this celestial theater. [In the mystical language of numbers, sixty is a formidable figure, echoing the divisions of time and space, the cycles of life and seasons. Each warrior, therefore, holds a numerical significance, mirroring cosmic rhythms.]
Yet these are not just any warriors; they are "warriors of Israel." Just as Israel wrestled and triumphed over the angelic, so too do these bodily guardians engage in a continuous contest with the soul, the breath of the Divine within. They whisper, "I will not let you go," forming an unbreakable bond that holds the soul captive, yet cherished, within the fortress of the body.
The soul, dwelling within these protective walls, recognizes the paradox. The warriors are both captors and saviors, limiting her reach yet enabling her existence within the mortal realm. In their rugged strength lies an untold prophecy—the promise of eternal union, a dance of spirit and matter, hinting at a time when separation will be no more, and the soul will find her ultimate rest.
Bound by this intricate, divine design, the soul and her guardians coexist in a state of delicate equilibrium. For now, they serve their purpose—keeping her tethered to her corporeal home, holding at bay the mystery that calls from beyond. Yet within this complex interplay pulses a yearning, a reach toward future unity when the soul will not be held, but will instead dwell in everlasting harmony with the universe, encased not in walls but enshrined in love.
Thus, the tale of the soul and her sixty guardians unfolds, a living allegory veiled in the language of flesh and spirit, mirroring the eternal quest for unity, the prophecy yet to be fully unveiled.
In the dusky, lamp-lit chamber, an almost palpable tension lingers. Here, spiritual guardians wield their swords with unparalleled skill, ready to engage in ceaseless battle. Their mission? To keep the soul entrapped within the realm of materialism. Trained in the art of combat, they are experts in tactics that weigh the soul down, making it difficult for her to ascend towards higher, spiritual planes. The swords they wield are more than just steel; they are the forces of habit and nature that lock the soul in place.
In this perpetual night of spiritual warfare, something exceptional happens. A profound fear descends upon the guardians. This fear isn't born of mortal dangers but reflects a momentous shift; the winds of prophecy blow through the chamber. Each guardian feels their sword grow heavier, pulling towards their hips. The weight of prophecy weakens them, disrupting their bodily structure. Their limbs become disjointed, their power dissipating, as if melted away by a divine furnace.
What could inspire such awe, unraveling the very fibers of their being? A soul is ascending, breaking free from their once unyielding grasp. Despite their natural and habitual might, the guardians find themselves powerless to prevent her rise.
Who is this, rising from the wilderness? they ask, astonished, unable to comprehend how she managed to escape their dominion. The answer lies in their own debility; their swords have been returned to their hips, their power nullified. Fear has overcome them, a prophetic awe that marks a change in the very architecture of the soul's prison.
And so, the Daughter of Heaven begins her ascent. Hindered no more by the guardians, she rises, stepping into a new dawn, a new potential for union with her Beloved. Yet, it is clear that the guardians' swords haven't vanished entirely. They remain at their hips, ready for another night, another battle. But for now, they are held at bay, their power confined to the very extremities of their being, allowing her a moment of freedom, a respite to seek her higher calling.
Her rise is not just an act but a proclamation, an event heralded by the winds of prophecy. It is as if the touch of the divine lingers at the very extremity, at the 'hip' of material existence, reminding the guardians—and all who bear witness—that the soul’s quest for divine union is a journey that, once begun, cannot easily be halted.
In the heart of a palace garden, a breathtaking structure stands—an ethereal carriage handcrafted by King Solomon himself. Made from the finest cedars of Lebanon, the palanquin seems almost otherworldly in its splendor. The air is dense with expectation; the scent of the cedar wood merges with the fragrance of the surrounding flowers, creating an aura of divine romance.
This royal carriage is designed for a single purpose: to hold and honor the Bride on her wedding day. King Solomon has set his intent; his companion is now to become his Queen, no longer hidden among the daughters of Jerusalem, but to be set apart, as special, as unique. Gone are the days when she was a mere lily among thorns. Now, she is destined to be enthroned beside her King.
Herein lies the secret: The daughters of Jerusalem, once guardians, become spectators. How did they permit her to emerge from their midst, journeying to be united with her Beloved? How could they stand aside as she left the wilderness and returned, forever changed, unhindered?
The answer: fear. The type of fear that disarms the soul and brings the material world to its knees. A fear that comes upon prophets when Divine Presence envelops them. The limbs of the corporeal world grow weak; the swords fall back into their sheaths, powerless. The very energy of the mundane is dissolved; it recoils, relegated to the fringes, unable to impede the daughter of the heavens as she parts from them.
As for the Appiryon, it's more than mere wood and craftsmanship. It is prophecy materialized, wisdom incarnate. Each cedar plank resonates with the timbre of destiny; each corner of this divine structure echoes the angles of the celestial throne. The King's intent is clear—he seeks unity, a bond transcending the earthly and the heavenly.
The carriage waits, anticipating the moment when it will bear the Bride to her Groom, leading her from a realm of confinement to a world teeming with endless possibilities. When the King ascends beside her, it will be the epitome of unity—a joining not just of man and woman, but of the Divine and the mortal, sealed in an eternal covenant.
The daughters of Jerusalem stand in awe. Their swords of material concerns have been sheathed, bound to their sides by an inexplicable awe. It's as if the very fabric of the material world has surrendered, making room for something infinitely greater, something holy. They can but watch, and in their watching, understand the profundity of what is occurring—this is no ordinary union; this is the sacred becoming manifest, fulfilling prophecies whispered since the dawn of time.
In a moment of enlightenment, King Solomon, grappling with the intricate fabric of his own soul and the Divine, realizes a profound truth. Once engulfed in the material pursuits, now he turns his gaze inward and upward. It's as if he constructs a palanquin for the soul, giving precedence to the Divine within him over the corporeal. His inner realm isn't to be a mere concubine to his worldly ambitions and pleasures anymore. It's to be enthroned like a queen, regal in her own palace, commanding the faculties of his being.
A carriage of wood from Lebanon. Here, Lebanon's wood symbolizes the strongest elements of the earthly domain, yet chosen to uplift the soul, making it a vehicle for the Divine. The palanquin isn't just an ornate carriage; it's a metaphysical construct, like the Temple he had built. Just as the Temple's chambers and rituals serve to elevate the physical to the Divine — through sacrifices that connect the life force of animals, plants, and minerals to spirituality — Solomon sees his life take on a similar sacred architecture.
He no longer regards his bodily desires as the rulers of his existence. The corporeal forces, symbolized by the daughters of Jerusalem, have been subdued, their focus shifted from self-serving pleasures to serving the higher queenly soul. They find themselves inevitably drawn towards the celestial queen, their energies marshaled by her wisdom and purpose.
In this newfound alignment, King Solomon's physical actions take on a heavenly hue, becoming acts of Divine service. It's as if every aspect of his being, every strand of his life, is now orchestrated by the soul in her royal palanquin, made of the very materiality that once threatened to consume him.
King Solomon, now harmonized in spirit and flesh, doesn't just enter his queenly soul's realm. He joins her in Divine matrimony, giving his worldly faculties a sanctified purpose. It's not just about rulership; it's a prophecy fulfilled, a living testament to the soul's capability to govern the corporeal, thereby creating a lineage blessed by the Divine.
No longer just a king with earthly confines, Solomon becomes a visionary, his soul and body in seamless unity, all elements raised, like the offerings in his Temple, into the realm of the eternal. It is as if his whole being becomes a Sanctuary, where heaven and earth kiss, a silent yet powerful testament to the prophecy that celebrates the union of the Divine and the human.
In the unfolding story, the palpable tension between the spiritual and the physical is temporarily dissolved. The setting shifts subtly, less a change of place than a change of focus. The perspective now zooms into the structure of the palanquin itself, elucidating its deeper essence.
"His pillars he made of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, the seat of it purple, the midst thereof being paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem," the verse echoes, its words sung like a harmonious melody in a greater cosmic symphony.
Here, each element of the palanquin takes on a metaphorical tone. Silver pillars are not mere luxury or aesthetic flourish; they are the foundations of Divine wisdom, holding up the structure like age-old commandments. The golden bottom represents the purest, immutable principles that form the basis of the soul's journey. The purple seat, both royal and mystical, suggests a Divine presence, an inherent sanctity that elevates the palanquin from the worldly to the celestial.
But what truly radiates within this sacred chariot is a love, not indiscriminate but discerning. "Paved with love from the daughters of Jerusalem," the words reveal a deeper, abstracted love that is an amalgamation of all the virtues found in the daughters of the Holy City. It is as if the very essence of this love is forged from a divine fire—a prophetic zeal—that melts down all these virtues into a singular, potent emotion.
Her Beloved, the Eternal Companion, finds Himself bathed in this refined love. It is not for Him a mere feeling, but a transcendent force, more enduring than the ages, more radiant than the most precious jewels. It is as if His love for her—the Soul, the Divine Maiden—is equal to the love for all the virtuous daughters combined. The palanquin then is not just a vehicle but a sanctified space, a mobile Temple, designed not merely to carry but to elevate, to transform the corporeal into an offering worthy of the Most High.
And so, propelled by this profound love, the Eternal Companion and His cherished Soul continue on their spiritual odyssey, every moment a prophecy, every emotion a sacred utterance, and every setting—be it a garden or a palanquin—a space made holy by their sublime union.
As he gazes upon the structure, each part resonates with deeper meaning. Its pillars, he thinks, aren't mere columns of silver; they're a trinity reflecting the body's three domains—each a dwelling for a corresponding tier of the soul.
The foundation lies within the lower body, where natural and vegetative forces take root. Here, the organs enact a hidden labor, essential for the growth and sustenance of the body—each with its function, from absorption to digestion to expulsion.
Above this physicality, rises another realm located around the chest, the domain of the vital soul. This life-force pulses from the heart, circulating energy and animation throughout the body.
Crowning these levels is the seat of the intellectual soul, lodged within the skull. Here, in this dome of wisdom, deeper contemplations and understandings take shape, giving man a glimpse of eternity.
To him, the totality of this structure—a vehicle, a sanctuary—is not merely an assembly of parts. It is a coherent unity, fueled by an abstract love, an amalgamation of affection collected from the daughters of Jerusalem. Each domain, physical and metaphysical, serves its purpose, just as the different parts of the soul find their rightful places within this divine architecture.
He marvels at how this intricate structure serves as a dwelling for something far greater—the love that transcends mere individual admiration, a love that is an essence extracted from the collective beauty and grace. The architecture, he realizes, is but a vessel for this universal force of love.
The air shifts as we arrive at the Sanctuary, a place of profound sacredness. It's not a mere change in atmosphere, but a transformation of essence. Here, the inner realms of being find their home in the physical world.
Her Beloved, ever the wise architect, beholds the Sanctuary as a mirror to the soul—each chamber, each vessel, each implement corresponding to aspects of individual and collective existence. It's a spiritual diagram mapping out the celestial structure down to the earthly realm, all harmonized to provide an environment for a divine indwelling.
*"This is where they gather, where their souls become as one,"* He thinks, reflecting on the collective soul of Israel. It was this unification, this being "as one man," that made the people worthy to serve as a chariot for the Divine Presence. And it is here, in the Sanctuary, that this union is most palpable.
They stand, together yet individually complete, as if embodying the idea of unity in multiplicity. Each person is a world unto themselves, yet part of the larger, intricate body of Israel—a body shaped by prophecies, wisdom, and a singular sense of purpose.
In this sacred assembly, two kinds of souls stand out. The first is the intellectual soul, ennobled by natural wisdom, often referred to by sages as "Chayah," the living one. Though bright, its light pales before the second kind: a soul emanated from the divine throne itself—a soul of prophecy. These extraordinary souls, called "Yechidah," are rooted in the ultimate Unity. They elevate from the multitude, almost divine, ruling over deeds, seeing without eyes, hearing without ears, and performing wondrous acts that astonish the minds and hearts of all.
*"To the one who possesses Yechidah, the soul emanated from the World of Emanation, the path within the King’s chambers is revealed,"* Her Beloved contemplates. It’s a prophecy, a vision that uplifts, revealing the tremendous potential of human beings to transcend earthly limitations.
In the Sanctuary, everything has its place, each vessel and ritual in alignment with the higher worlds. And just as the human body serves as the garment for the soul, guiding its powers into action, so does the Sanctuary serve as the "chariot" for the collective soul of Israel. Each structure, every ceremony, has its celestial counterpart, and the physical actions performed here resonate in the higher realms.
It is in this way that each person's soul, like a droplet in a river, contributes to the divine flow, resonating in a dance of Unity that transcends both time and space. And so, in the presence of the Sanctuary, they stand as one—elevated, sanctified, and bound in a unity that reaches from the earth to the heavens, embodying the deepest wisdoms that shape the fabric of existence.
In the sanctuary's heart, amid golden walls and silken veils, her Beloved takes stock of his wondrous creation. Here, each aspect echoes a facet of their love, transcendent and corporeal. To the uninitiated, these may just seem like walls, columns, and veils. But to her Beloved, each element signifies a tier of the soul's journey.
The outer courtyard of the sanctuary, bound by silver pillars, is a realm of physical necessities. It is like the belly and its digestive system, converting food into energy and ash. There, the altar always burns, a spiritual sustenance akin to bread, and the waste is taken care of, almost mirroring the human body's intricate functions. It's not enveloped by wooden boards, indicating the lower nature of its safeguarding [since these organs are not as significant and are more earthly in their functions].
Beyond this initial partition lies the inner sanctum, embraced by golden boards. This area corresponds to the vital soul, safeguarding higher rituals. The incense altar in this space grants spiritual pleasure, much like the secondary digestion that takes place in the heart, which is entirely a matter of airy spirituality. The menorah's seven branches refer to the seven winds that fuel the spirit, breathing life into the soul.
Yet, the most hallowed space remains concealed behind a curtain of purple, hosting the Ark of Covenant. This space is a boundary encasing the intellectual soul; it houses the divine law and intellect. Above the Ark, cherubim stand, twin souls rooted in the Divine, united in an eternal embrace. There, her Beloved finds the fire of love, fed by the corporeal energies elevated to love for the Divine [and this is where the holy merges with the earthly].
The love between them, purified and ennobling, engulfs the maidens of Jerusalem, whose energies ascend, transmuted into Divine love. They now partake in the love between her Beloved and the exalted Shepherdess, and all will bow before her. Through her, they serve the King of Glory, who resides in this realm [This is why he is named Solomon, signifying the peace between the soul and its physical vessel, for it is here that the soul dominates, subjugating the desires and energies to its own enlightened rule].
Thus, within these divine partitions, her Beloved sees not mere ornamentation but the embodiment of their eternal love, at once corporeal, spiritual, and intellectual, a triad of union each guarding its respective treasure yet all interlinked in a profound understanding of love's multifaceted nature.
In the bustling streets of Zion, a chorus of curious eyes and whispering voices swell around her—her presence a magnet for the daughters of the Holy City. Yet her soul yearns for solitude, for that divine unity with her Beloved. She devises a way, a subtle strategy to send the daughters of Zion away.
Go forth, she urges, "and witness King Solomon in his glorious crown. See the ornament bestowed upon him by his mother on the day of his wedding, and on the day that fills his heart with joy."
The daughters of Zion, their intrigue ignited, disperse to witness the spectacle. Each step they take away from her amplifies her inner joy, as if every footfall echoes in the hallways of prophecy. In their absence, her heart finds its sanctuary, meeting her Beloved in that sacred realm where heaven and earth kiss.
King Solomon, she ponders, even in his grandeur, has found peace. Even the King’s darker inclinations, the instinctive forces, have been vanquished by divine love. In that crown, bestowed by his mother—representative of the very source from which material desires and worldly urges spring—he has found unity, not merely as a ruler, but as a soul in harmony with the Divine.
For her Beloved has also been crowned, not by the grandiosity of worldly ceremonies, but by the wisdom that accompanies divine love. It is a wisdom that fuels her service to the divine and keeps her connected with the holy spirit dwelling within.
In their departure, the daughters of Zion have unknowingly paved the way for her union with the Divine. They, too, are part of this mysterious choreography—stepping away so that she can step closer to her ultimate destiny. And so, as the daughters of Zion drift away, captivated by the majesty of King Solomon, she enters into her intimate communion with her Beloved, veiling herself not just from the world but also in the prophetic wisdom that is her birthright.
In this moment, it is as if every strand of wisdom has found its place in her soul, shimmering with both clarity and mystery. She recognizes the grand design, as it unfolds not just around her, but through her, a living testament to a love that transcends all boundaries—earthly and divine.