Parshas Nasso 5781
When a dish breaks, the determination of whether or not it is salvageable depends on how seamlessly the shards can be krazy glued back together. If the fault lines between the individual pieces will not be very noticeable, it’s a keeper. If not, it heads to the trash.
The ancient Japanese method of kintsugi adopts another approach entirely. According to this art form, the fissures are highlighted rather than concealed. Gold leaf and bold paints accentuate the cracks so that the once fractured pieces can be detected even after the vessel has been reconstructed. Rather than attempt to pass the piece off as the unbroken original, a new, more beautiful version is presented in its place.
Perhaps this is the sort of pottery referenced in this week’s parsha.
Parshas Nasso tells the story of the Eishes Sotah—a woman who has aroused the suspicions of her husband due to her relationship with another man. Though the marriage has been strained, it is unclear that an act of true infidelity has occurred. To resolve the matter, the Torah prescribes a process by which the woman comes to the Bais Hamikdash and drinks a special concoction. This drink will yield one of two results: a gruesome death as punishment for adultery, or a complete exoneration.
Every element of this process is deeply symbolic, including the vessel in which the potion is held: an earthenware flask. The Ramban explains that the earthenware—a fragile material so easily broken—represents the woman herself and how the waters she drinks will leave her shattered.
A fair mashal, indeed, assuming the woman is actually guilty. But what if she isn’t? What if no act of adultery was actually committed? The flask is not necessarily a portent of her future demise; it may well serve as the instrument through which her name is cleared. Why have her drink from a material that represents only one of two possible outcomes?
In her research on infidelity, psychotherapist Esther Perel insists that we need to think broadly when considering what infidelity is. Infidelity and adultery are not one and the same, the latter being a particularly harsh, but not the sole expression, of the former. Infidelity is a breakdown in the relationship on some level. Any level. It is a breach of the marriage to the degree that he or she was seeking from an outside source the attention, validation, friendship, or meaning which should be found within the marriage itself. Well removed from a formal violation can be a far less pernicious form of infidelity.
How do we deal with these realities? To no small degree, it can be far simpler and more comfortable—at least in the short term—to ignore the issue. It is uncomfortable to consider that a relationship is unfulfilling and it is far less painful to gloss over the issue and insist that all is well. Even if there are aspects of the relationship that need to be fixed, we may hope that they’ll heal all on their own.
In Perel’s experience, infidelity, even a minor expression of it, breaks the marriage. As Perel puts it, following infidelity, the couple is headed towards a second marriage. The only question is if it will be to each other. If the underlying causes of the infidelity go unaddressed and are permitted to fester, it is only a matter of time before the relationship is left fully in shambles. If care is taken to properly explore the issues, though, the marriage can be reconstructed from the fragmented state created by the breach and can enjoy even greater strength and success than the couple ever experienced previously.
Earthenware, then, is the perfect vehicle for the Sotah waters. Because irrespective of the outcome, the marriage, as represented by the fragile pottery, has already been broken. Even if the woman is innocent of halachic adultery, something has transpired that has left the marriage irrevocably changed. But that is not to say that the marriage is in ruins. The question now at hand is what direction the couple will take: to leave the fractured pieces as they are, or to address them head-on and right the wrongs that landed them at this juncture.
Working to improve a marriage is an uncomfortable proposition. Because it presupposes that it was not already perfect. For a relationship that is so bound up with our very identities, admitting to the need for marital improvement is as difficult as owning up to flawed personal character. To say that a regular date night or some time away is in order is to suggest that things are not already perfect. To ask your spouse if they’re receiving enough of your attention or feel satisfied in your marriage may invite an answer you’d rather not hear. Making an attempt to broach this difficult topic leaves you exposed to the awkwardness of working through an uncomfortable issue.
But for all the drawbacks, we need to remember both how much there is to gain from dealing with such issues, as well as how much there is to lose by ignoring them. Once cracks creep into a marriage, the relationship as it was is forever changed. It is here that kintsugi should provide some encouragement. The shattered pieces of a broken vessel can be reconnected to make for a version even more beautiful than the original. Not by ignoring the cracks or by glossing them over, but by addressing them directly, by highlighting them, by turning them into a source of beauty rather than shame, of fulfillment rather than dissatisfaction. A pot that has gone cracked can enjoy a second life even more beautiful than the first.
Very insightful. Thank you, Rabbi.