Our Gemara on Amud Beis notes that the Sotah’s sacrifice is made of barley, which is considered animal food. The Gemara exhorts: She conducted herself in a beastly manner, therefore her sacrifice is that of a beastly food.

It is important for us to reflect when reading such statements that they are not only for the Sotah, but are for all of us. Let us recall what we have learned on the first page of this Masechta: “Whoever sees the Sotah in her state of disgrace, will take upon himself a vow of Nazirhood to abstain from wine (as a preventive measure against sinful and hedonistic behavior).“ The person who saw the downfall of the Sotah, did not smugly reassure himself that he is better than her. The other way around, he was directed towards self inquiry.

Maharal (Ohr Chadash 6:11) remarks that similarly, the first sacrifice brought after Pesach, after the redemption from Egypt, is the Omer, which also consists of barley. Only after the seven weeks of counting and preparation for Torah, do we then bring a different kind of sacrifice made out of wheat. At first, we are still on the level of animals and must work our way up to a different level.

Likkutei Halachos (3:26) asserts that, in fact, the meaning behind all the sacrifices, are to remind us that we have behaved in an animal-like fashion. The animal meets its untimely death as our surrogate, but not just a surrogate for punishment, but a representation of how we actually behaved. Our sins caused us to be as animals. He also sees a hint in the teachings of the fifth chapter of Mishna Zevachim which states, אזנו מקומן של זבחים literally, what is the proper place to slaughter the sacrifices? However, his chassidish reading is, “Realize the place of these sacrifices. Realize what they represent, where they are going, and what they belong to. Understand your beastly nature.” 

There is an extensive Rav Nachman story known as the Story Of The Son Of The King That Became Switched With And The Son Of The Servant, (you can access a version here: https://www.azamra.org/Essential/exchanged.htm ) which I encourage the reader to look up. For our purposes, the extremely abridged version of the story is: There were these two children, maliciously switched during infancy, so that the king actually was raising the child of the servant, and the servant was raising the child of the king. Throughout their childhood, the true royal prince gravitated toward higher and higher behaviors and studies, but at the same time was treated with contempt, while the son of the servant, whose nature gravitated to more base and frivolous matters, was given honor due to his false royal status. Overtime as each one developed in the courses of their lives they each went through various despair. One for being a fraud that he was, and the other for suffering and being deprived of his royal status. Over a long period each one goes through tribulations and travels which serve as a form of repentance and tikkun.  The climax of the story is when the imposter son of the king cedes his throne to the true son of the king.

I can’t claim to fully understand or explain this parable in this column, however, the gist of it is that our spiritual, true selves are in exile and deprived of the throne. At times, our soul suffers great despair, and is persecuted and other times we enter into deep depression, but at the end, our soul finds its way through, and she gets the recognition that it deserves over the non-royal physicality of the body.

Rav Nachman explains that the two lambs that are brought daily for the Tamid Sacrifice also remind us of this dichotomy. There is a royal true part of ourselves that often lives in the form of exile not being recognized for what it is, and then there is the bestial part of our self that often is ascendant in an undeserved manner.

If we can learn from the Sotah, and from the other sacrifices that point out our tendency toward behaving as a beast, we could find our noble princely selves, and fulfill our birthright, like the long lost king returning from exile.