In the midst of setting up the camp to march toward Eretz Yisrael comes a psychological insight out of nowhere. It is not a pleasant episode, that of the Sota woman, but its placement in our Parasha reveals the workings of the mind.
The Talmudic tractates devoted to a Sota and to a Nazir are next to each other. This follows the Torah’s curious juxtaposition of the Sota with the laws of a Nazir, one who makes himself into a voluntary ascetic. Why are these sections next to each other? Because, answers the Gemora, people who saw the Sota woman in her disgrace would immediately separate themselves from wine by becoming a Nazir.
This is curious. Some connection between the two figures is clear. An adulterous woman lacks restraint and wine can also cause one to lose self-control. But the Sota woman in her disgrace is not an advertisement for lack of restraint. The more dangerous precedent would be a Sota woman who is successful and does not get caught. The stuff of motion pictures, she is more seductive. Why is the unsuccessful woman appealing?
This is a question that has bothered some commentators. Some have shifted focus from a Sota’s degradation, when she blows up, to the process before that. In the attempt to avoid giving her the bitter potion, she is coaxed to confess. During that conversation, she is reminded of the power of wine and asked if she ever drank in a way that tipped her out of control. So perhaps it is that colloquy that others overhear. There the connection to wine is made explicit.
But the Gemora does not seem to be referring to this part of the process. It is not what the Gemora calls her “Kilkul,” her humiliation or degradation. Her Kilkul seems to refer to more than an interrogation. It describes where she is stiripped down and subject to the bitter potion.
But, again, the question: Who would be lured to emulate a woman whose stomach area becomes so distended that it rips open? Centuries ago, a commentator named R’ Yitzchok Arama wrote that this question comes from a misunderstanding of the psychological dynamic which is taking place here. He postulated that it is precisely the person who has been moved by a spectacular sight who is most in danger. Granted, of course the initial reaction is disgust. And that disgust extends to anything that contributed to what happened. For a time, witnesses will indeed be “scared straight,” and disabused of temptation.
But a person who experiences that kind of reaction is also more likely to assume that he or she is immune from temptation. They believe that having witnessed something so dramatic will sear into their souls a sense which permanently alters their susceptibility to sin. And that is the mistake here.
There is nothing as falsely reassuring as a strong emotional state. As moving as it is, it disappears. Emotions are associated with the part of the soul called “Ruach,” a word which denotes both spirit and the wind. As strong as it might blow, it can also disappear or shift in a moment. What seems indelible one moment can still disappear. It’s apparent permanence, however, is what leaves one more complacent and therefore vulnerable.
It is this complacency which demands action. Thinking oneself immune is worse; it leaves one more vulnerable than someone who possesses normal wariness. This is why those who have seen such a disgusting state should think of themselves as more vulnerable, and more in need of concrete action to keep them from falling into temptation.
This is true of those who have been “scared straight” and also those who have experienced spiritual inspiration. They have both been separated from the ordinary for a time, but inspiration alone should not be reassuring. In order to make it more permanent, one must act to do something that can lock in the heightened sense of right and wrong. That is why one who is moved by the Sota’s demise would separate from wine. That locks in their sense of right and wrong.
We just had a great Shavuot. I’m sure those who were involved in learning felt the boost throughout the Chag. But that disappears. One has to do something to lock in the sense of what learning can do in straightening out one’s perspective, and in prioritizing a meaning-driven life. Add to one’s learning in some way, either in amount or in quality. Take on another learning partner or another class, or create some time to review what one is learning. These are the steps that lock in the gains from inspiration, and which show how well we understand how fleeting inspiration can be.
