5 min read

Solomon and the Women Who Unmade the Wisest King

Solomon declared no virtuous woman existed in all the world, ran experiments to prove it, and a Jebusite woman used his own logic to lead him into idolatry.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Claim That Started Everything
  2. The Queen Who Reversed the Dynamic
  3. The Jebusite Woman
  4. What the Thousand Women Found

The Claim That Started Everything

Solomon wrote it down. One man among a thousand have I found, but a virtuous woman among all those have I not found. The verse is in Ecclesiastes and the tradition did not let him live it down.

He did not back down when he was challenged. He decided to prove it. He called men to his court and set temptations before them, testing how far wisdom held against desire. He found, repeatedly, that men compromised. He took this as confirmation. The wisest observer in the world had looked at the evidence before him and reached what he believed was a logical result.

He was wrong, and the tradition records exactly how wrong.

The Queen Who Reversed the Dynamic

The Queen of Sheba arrived not to pay tribute but to test. She had heard reports of Solomon's wisdom and had composed riddles designed to distinguish genuine wisdom from its performance. She asked riddles that made Solomon's court go quiet. She examined his household, his servants, his judgments. She assessed him the way a sovereign assesses a peer she is not yet certain deserves the title.

When she walked toward his throne across what she believed was a tiled floor and raised her skirt to keep it dry, she had mistaken the reflection of the sky in the polished glass for standing water. When she understood what she had done, she stood corrected before the man she had come to examine. Solomon's first real answer to her was architectural rather than verbal: what you see is not always what you think you see, and the surest proof of wisdom is knowing the difference.

She left praising him, but her praise was the assessment of a peer who had found the peer genuine. She had come to test. She confirmed. The dynamic had been reversed: the queen who arrived as the examiner left as the one who had been examined.

The Jebusite Woman

The tradition in Ginzberg's Legends, drawing on midrashic sources from the Talmudic period, preserves the story of the Jebusite woman who completed Solomon's undoing. She was one of the foreign women he had married, and unlike the others, she brought her father's idols with her as part of her household goods. Solomon knew. The Jebusite woman asked him to bow before them just once, just as a gesture of respect for her customs, just to demonstrate his regard for her.

He refused at first. She pressed. She did not use her beauty. She used his declared principle: you said no virtuous woman exists. You have already concluded that women are not to be taken seriously as moral actors. If that is true, then what I am asking cannot matter very much. Your own logic implies that my request is trivial.

He bowed. He did not bow as a worshipper. He did not bow from belief. But the tradition does not distinguish between the form and the content when it comes to idolatry. The act was the act. The wisest king in the world had been turned against himself by his own published contempt for women's virtue, which his own wives and concubines, seven hundred and three hundred in number, used as the lever to move him.

What the Thousand Women Found

The tradition records that Solomon tested not women but men, and found men wanting, and drew the wrong conclusion from the right data. What he missed is the distinction the tradition kept trying to make: his experimental method could only find what the method was designed to find. He tested for faithfulness under temptation in a court context, where the temptation was designed by him and the subjects were brought to him and the power differential was total. He found that men compromised under these conditions. He did not test whether women under the same conditions would behave differently, because he had already decided they would not.

Tamar, who the tradition elsewhere praises as an example of extraordinary moral courage, was not in Solomon's laboratory. Ruth was not. Deborah was not. The women who would later receive entire rabbinic traditions celebrating their virtue had not been summoned to the king's court to be tested on his terms.


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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews 5:35Legends of the Jews

Solomon, as we know, was never one to shy away from a bold statement. But one in particular ruffled feathers. He declared, "One man among a thousand have I found; but a virtuous woman among all those have I not found." (Ecclesiastes 7:28). Ouch.

The reaction! The learned AND the ignorant, as Ginzberg tells us in Legends of the Jews, were "stung into opposition." So what did Solomon do? Did he back down? Of course not! He decided to prove his point.

He orchestrated a rather… let’s say, unconventional experiment. He called before him a married man known for his uprightness. Solomon informed him that he was to be given a position of great importance. There was just one… tiny condition. As an “earnest of his loyalty,” he had to murder his wife. Why? So he could be free to marry Solomon's daughter, a more suitable match for his new status.

Can you imagine the gut-wrenching dilemma? The man went home, his heart heavy. He looked at his wife, his children… despair washed over him. He resolved to obey, but lacked the courage to kill his wife while she was awake. So he waited until she slept. But as he stood over her, the sight of his child nestled in her arms overwhelmed him. According to Legends of the Jews, parental and conjugal love flooded back. He couldn't do it. "Even if the king offered me his whole realm," he thought, "I could not murder my wife!" He went back to Solomon and confessed his inability to carry out the deed.

Okay, part one done. Now for the other half.

A month later, Solomon summoned the wife. He declared his undying love for her! He told her that their happiness could be realized if she would only… you guessed it… get rid of her husband. And to sweeten the deal? She would become his first wife. Solomon even provided the weapon: a leaden sword made to look like steel.

The woman, seemingly unmoved, returned home. She showed no sign of her dark purpose. On the contrary, Legends of the Jews tells us, she showered her husband with affection, attempting to lull him into a sense of security. That night, she arose, drew the "sword," and prepared to strike. But the leaden blade, of course, did no harm, only waking her husband. And she, in turn, confessed her terrible intention.

The next day, both husband and wife were brought before Solomon. And there you have it. Solomon, according to Legends of the Jews, believed he had proven his original statement: that women could not be depended upon.

But…did he really?

Was this a fair test? Was it even ethical? What does it say about Solomon, the wisest of men, that he would resort to such a manipulative and frankly disturbing experiment?

Perhaps the story isn't about the inherent virtue (or lack thereof) of men and women. Perhaps it's a cautionary tale about the corrupting influence of power, and the dangers of using others to "prove" a point, no matter how wise we think we are. Maybe, just maybe, the point of the story is to ponder the question: is it possible to prove a point, especially when that point comes at the expense of someone else's integrity? I think we're left with more questions than answers. And that's often the best part of a good story, isn't it?

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Legends of the Jews 5:51Legends of the Jews

Legends of the Jews turns to The Queen of Sheba Tests Solomon With Ancient Riddles.

Well, stories abound, and some of the most intriguing revolve around riddles, specifically, riddles posed by none other than the Queen of Sheba. Of all the tales, only a handful of riddles displaying Solomon’s incredible wit have survived. They are all tied directly to the Queen and her visit. for a second. The Queen of Sheba, ruler of a distant land, undertaking a long and arduous journey to test the wisdom of Solomon. What was her motivation? What was their relationship? The story of this queen, her connection to Solomon, and the reasons that propelled her from her faraway kingdom to Jerusalem is a fascinating chapter in the already eventful life of the wisest of all men. It's a story that makes you wonder about the power of curiosity, doesn't it?

The tradition says Solomon's dominion extended far beyond the human realm. He ruled not only over people, but also over the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, even demons, spirits, and the specters of the night. He possessed a unique gift: he understood the language of them all, and they understood him. Legends of the Jews, by Louis Ginzberg, paints this picture vividly. It’s wild to imagine a king with such comprehensive power! What would he say to the animals, and what did he learn from the spirits?

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Legends of the Jews 5:93Legends of the Jews

Not just the wise king of Israel, but a man who, according to some accounts, lost his way in a rather spectacular fashion.

1 Kings 11 speaks of his heart being turned away by his foreign wives, leading him to worship other gods. But the legends? Oh, the legends paint a much more vivid, and frankly, heartbreaking picture.

The story, as retold in Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, focuses on a Jebusite woman named Sonmanites. Now, Solomon was smitten. Head over heels. But Sonmanites wasn't just any woman; she was devoted to the gods Moloch and Raphan. Her priests, seeing an opportunity, advised her to reject Solomon unless he paid homage to their deities.

Initially, Solomon stood firm. He was the king, after all, blessed with divine wisdom. But love, as they say, can make you do crazy things. Sonmanites, using her influence, requested a seemingly small act. To crush five locusts in his hands in the name of Moloch. It seemed insignificant, almost trivial.

And here's where the tragedy unfolds. Solomon obeyed.

Immediately, the consequences were devastating. He was "bereft of the Divine spirit, of his strength and his wisdom." Just like that. Gone. The very qualities that defined him, the gifts he was known for, vanished. He sank so low, the story continues, that he built temples to Baal and Raphan, all to please his beloved.

Can you imagine the weight of that? The wisest man, succumbing to such a profound lapse in judgment? It’s a sobering reminder that even the most gifted among us are susceptible to temptation and the allure of love.

This tale, though not found in the primary Biblical narrative, resonates with the themes of temptation and the dangers of straying from one's faith. It also serves as a cautionary tale, a poignant reminder that wisdom alone isn't enough. We also need unwavering commitment to our values, and the strength to resist even the smallest compromises.

What do you make of Solomon's choice? And what does his story teach us about our own vulnerabilities?

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Midrash Tehillim 116:1Midrash Tehillim

That feeling, that burning love for the Divine, is something that the Sages explored with such beautiful intensity. to one of those explorations, found in Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homiletic interpretations of the Book of Psalms.

It all starts with (Psalm 116:1): "I love because the Lord will hear." Simple enough. But the Rabbis, masters of unpacking layers of meaning, see so much more.

Midrash Tehillim asks: Why do I love? Because God hears. It reminds us of (Isaiah 30:19), which promises that God will be gracious at the sound of our cry, answering as soon as He hears. We don't need elaborate rituals or grand gestures to reach God. All we need is prayer. If He hears, He will forgive, as Daniel implores in (Daniel 9:19): "O Lord, hear; O Lord, forgive; O Lord, listen and act and do not delay."

The text continues, saying that Israel loves God precisely because He hears their prayers. "I love you," the assembly of Israel declares. But this love, this profound connection, isn't always easy. "I am lovesick," they say, echoing the Song of Songs (2:5). It's not a simple headache or heartache, but a deep, almost painful longing born of love.

This "lovesickness" – it’s a powerful image, isn't it? It speaks to the intensity of the relationship. It's not just about duty or obligation; it's about a passionate yearning.

And what do we love? We love Him, and we love His house, as (Psalm 26:8) tells us: "Lord, I love the habitation of your house." We love the place where we connect with Him, the place of prayer and community. This love is so profound that, as (Song of Songs 8:7) states, "Many waters cannot quench love." No obstacle, no hardship, can diminish the love that burns within.

But there's a condition. A crucial caveat. (Psalm 66:18) reminds us: "If I had cherished sin in my heart, the Lord would not have listened." Our love, our prayers, our connection – it all depends on the purity of our hearts. If we harbor wickedness, if we cling to negativity, we create a barrier between ourselves and the Divine.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) concludes with a beautiful affirmation: "You love me, and I love you," echoing the covenantal love described in Deuteronomy. (Deuteronomy 7:8) reminds us that the Lord loves us because He loves us, it is because of His promise to our ancestors. And (Deuteronomy 13:5) instructs us to “Love him and keep his commandments and obey him.” It's a reciprocal relationship, a dance of love and devotion.

So, what does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a reminder that our connection with God is built on communication, on opening our hearts in prayer. It's a reminder that love, true love, can be both joyous and painful, and that it demands honesty and integrity. And ultimately, it’s a reminder that we are loved, deeply and unconditionally, and that our love for God is a response to that boundless love.

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