The Torah outlines a peculiar procedure when a husband suspects his wife of infidelity but lacks concrete proof (Numbers 5:11-31). This ritual involves a priest, the Cohein, and a special oath. But who actually administers the oath? That's our starting point.
"(Bamidbar 5:19) 'And the Cohein shall beswear her':" The Sifrei Bamidbar emphasizes that the Cohein administers the oath; the woman doesn't swear it herself. Why is this significant? The text anticipates a potential argument: elsewhere (Leviticus 5:4), the word "swear" is used where someone does swear of their own volition. So, shouldn't the woman do the same here? The answer, according to the Sifrei, is no. The Torah specifically states the Cohein "shall beswear her."
And now, a question of language. The text continues: "and he shall say to the woman" – in what language should the Cohein speak? Rabbi Yoshiyah argues it must be "in any language that she understands." Why? Because if even in the case of yevamah (the levirate marriage), a less stringent situation, other languages aren't equivalent to Hebrew, then surely, in the more serious case of the sotah, it should be the same! But the Torah explicitly says, "and he shall say to the woman" – implying it must be in a language she grasps.
Rabbi Yonathan offers a different take. He argues that Rabbi Yoshiyah's derivation isn't necessary. Why? Because Numbers 5:22 says, "and the woman shall say 'Amen, Amen.'" If she doesn't understand the language, how can she meaningfully say "Amen"? But perhaps, the text considers, she only says "Amen" to the curse, the part about her belly swelling and her thigh falling away, and not to the oath itself! But no, she says "Amen" twice, signifying agreement to both. So, according to Rabbi Yonathan, what's the point of "and he shall say to the women?" It's that the Cohein must teach her the meaning of the oath. He explains its implications.
Now we move to the content of what the Cohein says. “If no man has lain with you” – the text explains that "We are hereby taught that he opens for merit." What does this mean? The Cohein tries to persuade her to confess before the ritual takes place. He says, "Much wine causes this. Much frivolity causes this. Much childishness causes this. Many have preceded you and been swept away (by lust). Do not allow His great name written in holiness to be erased by the (bitter) waters.” He reminds her of the consequences, not just for herself, but for the desecration of God's name.
He recounts traditional wisdom, things "which wise men relate and which they did not withhold from their fathers," as we find in the Book of Job (15:18). And, the text shockingly adds, "he says before her things which are not fit to be heard, by her and by all the families of her father's house." This suggests a graphic description of the potential consequences, designed to shock her into honesty.
Rabbi Yishmael offers another perspective: "In the beginning he apprises her of the strength of the bitter waters." He uses a vivid analogy: "My daughter, what are these bitter waters like? Like a dry powder placed on raw flesh, which causes no harm, but which, when it finds a sore spot, penetrates and descends." In other words, if she is innocent, the water will have no effect. But if she's guilty, "in the end you will be swollen by these bitter, blighting waters."
This whole ritual, as described in the Sifrei Bamidbar, is a fascinating glimpse into a legal system grappling with issues of suspicion, evidence, and the power of oaths. It highlights the tension between upholding justice and seeking reconciliation, between the letter of the law and the spirit of compassion. It leaves us pondering the delicate balance between trust and doubt, and the lengths to which ancient societies went to uncover the truth. What does this ancient ritual teach us about our own approaches to truth, justice, and relationships today?