We find a clue in Vayikra Rabbah, specifically in a passage connected to the story of the "son of an Israelite woman" (Leviticus 24:10). The text begins by quoting the Song of Songs (4:12): "A locked garden is my sister, my bride; a locked fountain, a sealed spring." What does this poetic imagery have to do with the Israelite experience in Egypt?

Rabbi Pinchas offers an interpretation: "A locked fountain – these are the virgins. A locked garden – these are the married women. A sealed spring – these are the males." The implication? That the Israelites, by and large, maintained sexual fidelity and purity, especially in the face of hardship and temptation. The Midrash emphasizes that the one Israelite woman who didn't maintain this standard is specifically called out by name (Leviticus 24:11), highlighting just how rare her transgression was.

It’s further taught in the name of Rabbi Natan that the "locked garden" and "locked fountain" can also be understood as alluding to "typical and atypical" forms of intercourse – that is, vaginal and anal intercourse. This suggests a broader commitment to sexual boundaries and sanctity within the Israelite community.

But the story goes deeper. Rabbi Pinchas, again in the name of Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba, takes it a step further: "A locked garden… because Israel restrained themselves from licentiousness in Egypt, they were delivered from Egypt." Their self-control, their commitment to a moral code, was directly linked to their eventual freedom. Shelaḥayikh, "your branches" in the Song of Songs (4:13), becomes shiluḥayikh, "your being sent out." The very act of restraint paved the way for their exodus.

And it wasn't just a collective effort. Individual acts of righteousness played a crucial role, too. Rabbi Huna, citing Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba, points to Sarah and Joseph. Sarah, when taken by Pharaoh, resisted temptation, and her virtue influenced all the women around her. Joseph, facing Potiphar's wife, famously resisted her advances, setting an example for all of Israel. These individual acts of kedushah, of holiness and separation, rippled outwards, strengthening the entire community.

In fact, Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba states that this restraint from licentiousness alone would have been sufficient for Israel to be redeemed!

Rav Huna, in the name of bar Kappara, gives us four reasons for Israel's redemption: they did not change their name, their language, they did not speak slander, and there was not one among them who was found to be steeped in licentiousness. They held onto their identity, their heritage, and their integrity. They maintained their Hebrew names, refusing to adopt Egyptian ones. They continued to speak Hebrew, as evidenced by Genesis 14:13 and Exodus 5:3. They refrained from lashon hara, slanderous speech, even when entrusted with sensitive information (Exodus 11:2).

And as we've seen, they largely avoided licentiousness, with the single exception serving to underscore the rule. The Midrash even delves into the name of that woman, Shelomit bat Divri, to extract meaning. Rabbi Levi suggests that “Shelomit” means she was overly friendly and talkative with everyone, which led to her transgression. "Daughter of Divri" implies she caused a "davar," a matter, to befall her son. And "of the tribe of Dan" signifies a disgrace to him, his family, and his tribe.

So, what can we take away from this Midrash? It's a powerful reminder that even in the darkest of times, individual choices matter. Maintaining our values, guarding our integrity, and resisting temptation can have a profound impact, not just on ourselves, but on our entire community. It suggests that true freedom isn't just about physical liberation, but also about the freedom to choose righteousness, even when it's difficult. It's a message that resonates just as strongly today as it did centuries ago.