The Torah (Numbers 5:17) instructs the priest to take "sacred water in an earthenware vessel, and from the dirt that is on the floor of the Tabernacle...place it into the water." But where does this “sacred water” come from? According to this midrash, it's none other than water sanctified in a vessel – specifically, water from the basin (kiyor) in the Tabernacle.
Why the basin? This is where things get really interesting. The kiyor, we are told, was crafted from the mirrors of the women who assembled at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting (Exodus 38:8). These weren't just any mirrors; they represented the women's unwavering commitment to purity, even in the face of Egyptian oppression. The midrash says these women declared, "God testifies on our behalf that we departed from Egypt pure!" And when Moses was instructed to build the basin, God specifically told him to use these mirrors. Why? Because, as the text says, "they were not utilized for the purpose of harlotry, and with them, their daughters will be examined whether they are as pure as their mothers.”
Think about that for a moment. The very instrument used for vanity, for outward appearance, is transformed into a symbol of inner purity and a tool for discerning truth. The Zohar adds another layer, suggesting that the Divine Presence rests upon those who maintain purity, making the water from the basin especially potent.
But the story doesn’t stop there. The midrash connects the women's purity in Egypt to the entire redemption story. God’s miracles, the text argues, were a direct result of the Israelites’ adherence to moral boundaries. Consider the plagues: Egyptians drinking blood while Jews drank water, frogs leaping upon Egyptians but fleeing from Jews, hail sparing Jewish livestock while killing Egyptian. These weren't random acts; they were divine responses to the Israelites’ distinct moral character.
Even the parting of the Red Sea, the Bamidbar Rabbah suggests, was a greater miracle than anything experienced in Egypt. Rabbi Yitzḥak asks, rhetorically, "Is there a great hand and is there a small hand?" His answer: that the miracle at the sea was greater than the miracles in Egypt! He congealed one-third of the sea (referencing the idea that the heart is one-third of a person) and allowed them to walk on dry land. (Exodus 15:8)
But this display of divine favor didn't go unnoticed. The nations of the world cried foul, accusing God of favoritism. "We are uncircumcised and they are uncircumcised," they protested. "For them, 'the Lord saved Israel on that day...' but for us, 'He hurled Pharaoh and his army into the Red Sea!'" (Exodus 14:30, Psalms 136:15)
So, what made Israel so deserving? The midrash answers with a fascinating, albeit somewhat cryptic, explanation involving family lineage and moral integrity. It speaks of seventy nations, but then introduces the concept of "sixty queens" and "eighty concubines" – families with unclear paternal or maternal lineage. In contrast, Israel, despite their time in Egypt, maintained a clear lineage, a testament to their moral fiber. Even the one instance of a mixed lineage, the son of an Israelite woman and an Egyptian man (Leviticus 24:10), is explicitly called out.
This emphasis on lineage and purity culminates in the explanation for using the water from the basin for the sotah ritual. The midrash argues that the mothers of this generation grew up amongst impurity, but remained beyond suspicion; while the current generation grew up amongst purity, yet is suspected. "Therefore," the text concludes, "let the handiwork of those who grew among the impure, but were pure, examine and prove regarding those who grew among the pure and were defiled. That is why the water is from the basin."
So, what can we take away from this intricate tapestry of stories and interpretations? Perhaps it's a reminder that holiness can emerge from unexpected places. That even objects associated with vanity, like mirrors, can be transformed into symbols of purity and instruments of divine judgment. And perhaps, most importantly, it’s a call to examine our own lives, to strive for the same unwavering commitment to moral integrity that defined the women of the Exodus, and ultimately, paved the way for redemption.