The Book of Numbers, inspite of the fact that it doesn't have the aura of Genesis or the great dramatic moments of Exodus, is no less interesting than them, and in some respects – even more so.
There are some big dramas, that illustrate the confusion and frustration of wandering in the desert – the striking of the rock, the rebellion of Eldad and Meidad, and the request of the tribes of Gad and Reuven to settle east of the Jordan. But the thing that is surprising (in a good way), is that these dramas are resolved in a creative manner, from which the law is developed to become better and more just.
In between the annals of the people in the desert the text mixes in many laws and rules. Some are mystical and not completely explained – like the laws of the nazirite and the laws of the red heifer.
One of the topics that arises in Parshat Naso is the issue of the Sotah, the adulterous woman, or more correctly, the woman suspected of adultery. Unlike other situations in the Book of Numbers, in which creative solutions to difficult social and religious problems are found and codified, here we are speaking of a really terrible law. This is a violent and demeaning mystical ritual, whose entire goal is to prove whether indeed a sin has been committed, or not. We should emphasize – we're not talking about punishment for a sinner, but about a ritual whose whole purpose is to discover if indeed a sin has been committed:
"YHWH spoke to Moshe, saying: Speak to the Children of Israel and say to them: Any man, any man whose wife strays and breaks-faith, yes, faith with him." (Numbers, 5:11-12, trans. Everett Fox)
And further on:
"and a rush of jealousy comes over him, and he feels rage toward his wife, she having made herself tamei; (impure) or a fit of jealousy comes over him and he feels rage toward his wife, though she did not make herself tamei—" (ibid. v.14-15)
The spirit of jealousy. That is the motivation for the ritual described across 21 verses. A ritual that is entirely intended to ease that spirit of jealousy. The ritual develops and is discussed across an entire massekhet (tractate) of the Mishnah, and in both the Jerusalem and the Babylonian Talmuds. A terrible ritual.
In many liberal Jewish communities, skipping over these verses is favored. In any event, we don't usually read the entire Torah portion, so why should we read davka this part? There's no need. It's annoying and embarrassing, so lets skip it. We're embarrassed that such a ritual was ever part of our tradition. But that embarrassment stems from the fact that such a ritual is a reflection of our darkest emotions.
In the Talmud (Sukkah 53b), the ritual is explained as having the goal of making peace between the husband and wife:
"in order to make peace between a man and his wife the Torah said: My Name that was written in sanctity will be erased on the water" (Davidson edition, Sefaria)
Here, even God is willing to forgo honor – the ineffable name is written on a scroll, and then put in the bitter water, where the ink is erased from the scroll, and the woman is forced to drink the water, that is mixed with the dust from the floor of the Holy Temple. God is not angry that the Holy Name was obliterated in the water! God is willing to do anything to make peace!
Really? Why doesn't the Torah demand an alternative ritual, for the jealous husband, to remove the spirit of jealousy from him?
Some comment that the test of the Sotah ritual is intended to frighten the husband, to deter him from undertaking such a public humiliation. Yes, yes. He is the one undergoing public humiliation, according to this approach. But in fact, of course, the deterrence is primarily against women. Author Tamar Rotem, who was raised in a strict Haredi environment and left it in later life, writes of the childhood fears raised when she learned of the ritual:
"Deathly fear from what would happen to us, brides and future married women, fell upon us. And in spite of the great joy that the Holy Temple that once stood in our midst – for since it was destroyed, maybe they won't be angry with us, won't mess our hair, won't curse us, won't force us to drink the bitter water, won't take away our jewelry, our wombs or thighs won't fall, our bellies won't be pinched – we still couldn't sleep. Our braids were tousled, strange thoughts entered us. We didn't say Amen and Amen."
Friends, jealousy is universal. The chapter of the Sotah is a painful mirror into that place where jealousy can drive us mad, as individuals and as a society. I hope that in spite of the descriptions in the Torah, the Mishnah, and the Talmud, that this terrible ritual was never enacted. I want to hope that it was intended to shake all of us, men and women alike, so that we will overcome our baser instincts, especially that of jealousy.
Something else arises from the text: the problem of acting from suspicion alone. Suspicion, like jealousy, is not a positive emotion. It leads us to anger and grumbling, to hatred and to violence. That very violence that is demonstrated in our Parsha.
Surely we don't want to base our relationships and our society on such destructive emotions. Instead of jealousy, lets act from generosity, instead of hatred, let’s act from mercy and compassion. In place of suspicion, lets educate ourselves to have faith in the good that can be found in all people.
Shabbat Shalom.
Translation: Rabbi Daniel Burstyn
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Rabbi Galia Sadan is a rabbi of the Beit Daniel Congregation in Tel Aviv and is the convener of the Reform Beit Din (Rabbinical Court).
There are some big dramas, that illustrate the confusion and frustration of wandering in the desert – the striking of the rock, the rebellion of Eldad and Meidad, and the request of the tribes of Gad and Reuven to settle east of the Jordan. But the thing that is surprising (in a good way), is that these dramas are resolved in a creative manner, from which the law is developed to become better and more just.
In between the annals of the people in the desert the text mixes in many laws and rules. Some are mystical and not completely explained – like the laws of the nazirite and the laws of the red heifer.
One of the topics that arises in Parshat Naso is the issue of the Sotah, the adulterous woman, or more correctly, the woman suspected of adultery. Unlike other situations in the Book of Numbers, in which creative solutions to difficult social and religious problems are found and codified, here we are speaking of a really terrible law. This is a violent and demeaning mystical ritual, whose entire goal is to prove whether indeed a sin has been committed, or not. We should emphasize – we're not talking about punishment for a sinner, but about a ritual whose whole purpose is to discover if indeed a sin has been committed:
"YHWH spoke to Moshe, saying: Speak to the Children of Israel and say to them: Any man, any man whose wife strays and breaks-faith, yes, faith with him." (Numbers, 5:11-12, trans. Everett Fox)
And further on:
"and a rush of jealousy comes over him, and he feels rage toward his wife, she having made herself tamei; (impure) or a fit of jealousy comes over him and he feels rage toward his wife, though she did not make herself tamei—" (ibid. v.14-15)
The spirit of jealousy. That is the motivation for the ritual described across 21 verses. A ritual that is entirely intended to ease that spirit of jealousy. The ritual develops and is discussed across an entire massekhet (tractate) of the Mishnah, and in both the Jerusalem and the Babylonian Talmuds. A terrible ritual.
In many liberal Jewish communities, skipping over these verses is favored. In any event, we don't usually read the entire Torah portion, so why should we read davka this part? There's no need. It's annoying and embarrassing, so lets skip it. We're embarrassed that such a ritual was ever part of our tradition. But that embarrassment stems from the fact that such a ritual is a reflection of our darkest emotions.
In the Talmud (Sukkah 53b), the ritual is explained as having the goal of making peace between the husband and wife:
"in order to make peace between a man and his wife the Torah said: My Name that was written in sanctity will be erased on the water" (Davidson edition, Sefaria)
Here, even God is willing to forgo honor – the ineffable name is written on a scroll, and then put in the bitter water, where the ink is erased from the scroll, and the woman is forced to drink the water, that is mixed with the dust from the floor of the Holy Temple. God is not angry that the Holy Name was obliterated in the water! God is willing to do anything to make peace!
Really? Why doesn't the Torah demand an alternative ritual, for the jealous husband, to remove the spirit of jealousy from him?
Some comment that the test of the Sotah ritual is intended to frighten the husband, to deter him from undertaking such a public humiliation. Yes, yes. He is the one undergoing public humiliation, according to this approach. But in fact, of course, the deterrence is primarily against women. Author Tamar Rotem, who was raised in a strict Haredi environment and left it in later life, writes of the childhood fears raised when she learned of the ritual:
"Deathly fear from what would happen to us, brides and future married women, fell upon us. And in spite of the great joy that the Holy Temple that once stood in our midst – for since it was destroyed, maybe they won't be angry with us, won't mess our hair, won't curse us, won't force us to drink the bitter water, won't take away our jewelry, our wombs or thighs won't fall, our bellies won't be pinched – we still couldn't sleep. Our braids were tousled, strange thoughts entered us. We didn't say Amen and Amen."
Friends, jealousy is universal. The chapter of the Sotah is a painful mirror into that place where jealousy can drive us mad, as individuals and as a society. I hope that in spite of the descriptions in the Torah, the Mishnah, and the Talmud, that this terrible ritual was never enacted. I want to hope that it was intended to shake all of us, men and women alike, so that we will overcome our baser instincts, especially that of jealousy.
Something else arises from the text: the problem of acting from suspicion alone. Suspicion, like jealousy, is not a positive emotion. It leads us to anger and grumbling, to hatred and to violence. That very violence that is demonstrated in our Parsha.
Surely we don't want to base our relationships and our society on such destructive emotions. Instead of jealousy, lets act from generosity, instead of hatred, let’s act from mercy and compassion. In place of suspicion, lets educate ourselves to have faith in the good that can be found in all people.
Shabbat Shalom.
Translation: Rabbi Daniel Burstyn
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Rabbi Galia Sadan is a rabbi of the Beit Daniel Congregation in Tel Aviv and is the convener of the Reform Beit Din (Rabbinical Court).