Bitter Faithlessness
[God] said to me, “Mortal, eat what is offered you; eat this scroll, and go speak to the House of Israel.” So I opened my mouth, and I was given this scroll to eat, as I was told, “Mortal, feed your stomach and fill your belly with this scroll that I give you.” I ate it, and it tasted as sweet as honey to me…A spirit seized me and carried me away. I went in bitterness, in the fury of my spirit, while GOD’s hand was strong upon me. (Ezekiel 3:1-3;14)
“Do not call me Naomi,” she replied. “Call me Mara, for Shaddai has made my lot very bitter. (Ruth 1:21)
The priest shall put these curses down in writing and rub it off into the water of bitterness. He is to make the woman drink the water of bitterness that induces the spell, so that the spell-inducing water may enter into her to bring on bitterness. (Numbers 5:22-23)
But the Lord said to Moses and Aaron, “Because you did not trust Me enough to affirm My sanctity in the sight of the Israelite people, therefore you shall not lead this congregation into the land that I have given them.” Those are the Waters of Meribah (Rebellion) —meaning that the Israelites quarrelled with the Lord —whose sanctity was affirmed through them. (Numbers 20:12-13)
Bitterness is both cause and effect of faithlessness.
Those who are without faith turn bitter. Those who feel bitter are unable to find a sense of faith that might lighten their yoke. Bitterness betrays. Betrayal begets bitterness. Bitterness is a leitmotif in the Torah. After Miriam dies (Miriam’s name can be read as Mir-yam, “bitter sea”) Moses strikes a rock in anger. Water pours forth, but it is rebellious water (Meribah). The words for quarrel and the word for bitter look and sound alike. The Midrash teaches that Miriam was associated with a traveling well that accompanied the people in the desert. With her loss, the miraculous water source also dries up, a fateful set-up for Moses’s blow-up. Moses’s transgression is said to be a lack of trust, suggesting a phenomenology of bitterness. The joyous and the faithful do not lash out. They remain composed even when the FUD intensifies.
In this week’s parasha, Naso, The Sotah (woman suspected, but not confirmed, of infidelity) is made to drink bitter water. The punishment / trial is fitting, but also ambiguous. If she is guilty, she has broken faith, but if she is merely suspected by a jealous husband, then he has broken faith in suspecting her. More likely, and regardless of the facts, their relationship itself has turned bitter such that they find themselves before a mediating priest. The water which the people drink after the death of Miriam may not be chemically bitter, but it is situationally bitter because it is brought forth in anger. The Torah teaches that the water of the Sotah is embittered by the dissolved name of God, but we might say that it is embittered by the strained relationship of the couple. The dissolution of the relationship is itself a kind of dissolution of the divine name.
When Moses strikes the rock, he forfeits his right to enter the land flowing with milk and honey (sweet, generous abundance). Instead he unearths a gush of bitter water. The two flows contrast. One comes effortlessly, the other comes from violence. Ezekiel eats a scroll, much like the Sotah does, and finds its taste sweet—an allusion the promised land. But then discovers it has become bitter, an allusion to the bitterness of Exile.
On Shavuot, we read of Naomi (pleasantness), who changes her name to Marah (bitterness). Her name-change suggests that she is a person who feels betrayed by God, and perhaps by her husband, Elimelech. In following Naomi, Ruth, an outsider, shows faithfulness to a woman without faith. Ruth eventually helps her re-enter the community, thus changing her bitter situation back into one of pleasantness. The relationship between Ruth and Naomi becomes paradigmatic for the covenant—not just having faith in challenging times, but hanging in their with the bitter and lonely until they find a new way forward.
The proper response to an embittered person is not to say “Don’t be bitter.” But while we may not say this quiet part out loud, many of us think some version of it when encountering the abject, because we like to feel in control. Our reaction fails for multiple reasons. First, the abject person encounters it as self-centered. “Does my bitterness make you feel uncomfortable? Deal with it.” Second, the embittered person feels he has no choice over his feelings. “I’m bitter, what can I do?” Third, he feels his feeling is appropriate: “You would also feel bitter if you stood in my shoes.” Finally, the abject person experiences further isolation as a result of the gulf exposed between his suffering and the judgment of his interlocutor. But none of this means that the bitterness is true—it just means that the bitterness is stuck in its own bitterness.
Zohar Chadash teaches, “The poor person in the hour that he looks at himself in a state of duress, makes a rebellion (Meribah) against the heavens.” That is to say, there is a difference between physical pain and psychological suffering. Self-consciousness, and enclosure in a doom-loop, precludes faithfulness. Whereas a person who does not look at himself as being in a state of duress is not in duress. The duress is a function of the narrative one adopts.
Why does Ezekiel, the prophet, have to consume a bitter scroll? Perhaps by taking on this bitterness he better empathizes with the bitterness of those he must counsel. The prophet seeks to take people to the land of milk and honey, but the path requires a detour through bitter waters. We cannot just fast forward through the moments that make us question. How we handle those moments and how we handle them when others come to us with statements like Naomi’s “Call me Marah” become the test of true, and deeper, faithfulness. Those who pass through the crucible of faithlessness—and endure the dark night of the soul—most fortify the faith, ensuring that it is hard won.
Shabbat Shalom,
Zohar Atkins