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.
Now, imagine 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?