The book of Bamidbar Rabbah (Numbers Rabbah), a classic midrashic compilation, delves into this very question, specifically in the context of a sotah, a woman suspected of adultery. It uses a verse from Numbers 5:12, dealing with the sotah, to explore the multifaceted nature of betrayal. The verse states, "And commit a trespass against him [umaala bo maal]." Why, asks the midrash, is the word "trespass" (maal) written in the plural [me'ilot]?
The answer, according to Bamidbar Rabbah 9, is that the woman commits two acts of deceit. One is against her husband, and the other, perhaps more surprisingly, is against the Holy One, blessed be He. How so?
The midrash explains that she deceives her husband by claiming that a mamzer – a child born from a forbidden union – is actually his legitimate son. This deception has real-world consequences: the mamzer inherits his property, a right they are explicitly denied according to Jewish law. As the text points out, the Holy One, blessed be He, decreed that only those whose lineage traces back to their father should inherit the land. By passing off the mamzer as her husband's son, she subverts this divine decree.
But wait a minute. How can someone deceive God? Isn't God all-knowing? This question is addressed directly. The midrash emphasizes that while a woman might be able to deceive her husband, she cannot deceive God. As it says in Zechariah 4:10, "The eyes of the Lord, they rove throughout the earth," and in Proverbs 15:3, "The eyes of the Lord observe the wicked and the good." Nothing escapes His notice.
The text continues, driving home the point that God sees through the deception. "Not as you thought to bequeath to your mamzer your husband’s property; I know the mamzer, and I will banish him from the world."
This raises a difficult question: how does God "banish" the mamzer? Rabbi Ḥanina, as quoted in the midrash, suggests a rather unsettling answer: that once every sixty or seventy years, God brings a great pestilence to the world to eliminate the mamzerim. The upright are taken along with them, "so as not to publicize the sinners." Harsh, right? It feels almost unjust.
The midrash acknowledges this tension by quoting Isaiah 31:2: "He, too, is wise, and has brought evil." Isn't it logical that it should instead be, "He, too, is wise, and has brought good"? The midrash answers: it is, rather, to teach you that even the evil that the Holy One blessed be He brings to the world, He brings it with wisdom. The text insists that even in what seems like arbitrary suffering, there is a divine purpose, even if we can't fully grasp it.
There are further discussions on the lifespan of a mamzer. Rabbi Huna is quoted as saying that a mamzer does not live more than thirty days. However, Rav Yaakov bar Aḥa clarifies that this is only true when the status of the child is not publicly known. If it is public knowledge that the child is a mamzer, they may live longer.
The passage concludes by returning to the original verse: "And commit a trespass against him" – emphasizing that the trespass is against the husband, but ultimately, one cannot trespass against the Holy One, blessed be He, because nothing is hidden from His sight.
What do we take away from this exploration of deception? It seems the Bamidbar Rabbah is teaching us that our actions, especially those involving deceit and betrayal, have repercussions that extend far beyond our immediate relationships. They touch upon something much larger: our relationship with the divine and with the very fabric of justice in the world. Can we ever truly hide our actions, and what are the consequences if we believe we can? It's a question worth pondering, long after the story ends.