Especially when we delve into the curious case of the sotah – the suspected adulteress – in Numbers chapter 5. It’s a wild ride, full of ritual, suspicion, and a whole lot of barley flour.
"The man shall bring his wife to the priest, and he shall bring her offering on her behalf, one-tenth of an ephah of barley flour; he shall not pour oil upon it, and he shall not place frankincense upon it, for it is a meal offering of jealousy, a meal offering of remembrance, a reminder of iniquity" (Numbers 5:15).
But before we even get to the sotah ritual itself, Bamidbar Rabbah 9 points out something interesting. The preceding verses discuss a man's sacred items going to the priest. "A man’s sacred items shall be his; [anything that a man gives the priest shall be his]" (Numbers 5:10). The Midrash asks, do Israelites even eat sacred items? Of course not! The text is teaching us that if you bring vow offerings, gift offerings, and first fruits to the priest willingly and generously, you will be blessed. The reward? Priestly descendants! As the text says, "His daughters will marry priests, and his grandchildren will be priests." People who partake of sacred items.
But if you skimp on your obligations, if you mock the mitzvot (commandments) and don’t bring those sacred items, then ultimately, "the man shall bring his wife to the priest"… in a very different context. It's a harsh lesson, isn't it? An entrance not opened for mitzvot is opened for… trouble. Money not spent on good deeds ends up going to the doctor, says the Midrash. Ouch.
And then, the offering itself. "And he shall bring her offering on her behalf." It has to come from his resources. He didn't share his harvest with the priest before, and now he's got to spend money on this whole ordeal! What's that about?
Notice the unusual composition of the offering. "One-tenth of an ephah of barley flour." Why barley? The Midrash connects it to the Ten Commandments. The woman’s transgression, if she committed it, is seen as a violation of those fundamental principles. And why barley flour specifically? Because, as Bamidbar Rabbah suggests, she fed her lover delicacies, so she gets the animal feed equivalent in her offering. Ouch, again!
And there’s more. "He shall not pour oil upon it, and he shall not place frankincense upon it." Now, Rabbi Shimon has an interesting take: Normally, an offering from a sinner should include oil and frankincense, so they aren't rewarded for their sins. So why the exception here? The Midrash explains that it's so her offering won’t be glorified.
Think about it. Oil is a source of light. The Hebrew word, yitzhar, shares a root with words like tzohorayim (noon) and tzohar (a source of light). But if she has chosen darkness, then her offering gets no light. And frankincense? That evokes the matriarchs – Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, and Rachel. "I will go to the mountain of myrrh," (Song of Songs 4:6), says the text, referring to the patriarchs, "and to the hill of frankincense," referring to the matriarchs. If she has strayed from their path, let their memory not be present in her offering. Frankincense, after all, is linked to memory. As we see in Leviticus 2:2, "The priest shall burn its memorial portion [azkarata] on the altar."
"For it is a meal offering of jealousy [kenaot]." The Midrash emphasizes that this is a double jealousy. It's the husband’s jealousy, of course, but it's also the paramour's! He, too, faces consequences if she's found guilty. And just as she provoked jealousy down here on Earth, she also provoked zealotry [kina] above, in the heavens.
Then comes the "meal offering of remembrance." If she's innocent, it's a remembrance for the good. But if she’s guilty, it’s a "reminder of iniquity." It’s a fork in the road, a moment of truth.
Finally, "The priest shall bring her near and have her stand before the Lord" (Numbers 5:16). She doesn't get to waltz in during a festive pilgrimage, surrounded by crowds. The priest doesn't wait for a more dramatic moment. He brings her before God at the first chance he gets. And "have her stand" means she stands alone. No supportive slaves or maidservants to embolden her. She stands "before the Lord" – specifically, at the Nikanor Gate. A humbling and exposed position.
What's so powerful about this whole sotah narrative is how it holds a mirror up to our own lives. Are we investing in the things that truly matter? Are we choosing light over darkness? Are we honoring the legacies of those who came before us? And are we mindful of the consequences – both earthly and spiritual – of our choices? It's a lot to consider, isn't it?