SALT 2015 - Parashat Chukat

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Motzaei Shabbat

            We read in Parashat Chukat the famous and puzzling story of Mei Meriva, of how Moshe was punished after striking a rock in the wilderness to provide water for Benei Yisrael.  God decreed that as a result of this incident, Moshe would die in the wilderness and not enter Eretz Yisrael together with the people, and God refused to rescind this decree even after Moshe pleaded to be permitted to cross into the land (Devarim 3:23-27).

            The Yalkut Shimoni (Hoshea, 567) comments, “Why did Moshe die in the wilderness?  In order that those who died in the wilderness can return in his merit.”  Somehow, the presence of Moshe’s remains in the wilderness serves to atone for the sins of the generation condemned to die in the wilderness, rendering them ultimately worthy of resurrection.  For this reason, he was destined to be buried in the wilderness instead of entering Eretz Yisrael.

            The Tolna Rebbe (Heima Yenachamuni – Moadim, pp. 193-194) explains the Yalkut’s comment to mean that Moshe was punished for failing to assist the evil members of the nation who lacked faith.  Despite living a miraculous existence in the wilderness, the people accosted Moshe and accused him of leading them to the desert for them to die (20:4-5).  God wanted Moshe to speak to the rock, which would then produce water, in order to ignite a spark of faith within the people’s hearts and reassure them of God’s ability to sustain them.  Moshe, however, reacted angrily to the people’s complaints, and stuck the rock instead of speaking to it.  This response was improper.  The appropriate response to people who raise questions of faith is to patiently and respectfully teach them about faith, rather than angrily reject them and dismiss their questions.  The Tolna Rebbe explains:

This is the reason why this sin of Mei Meriva is written in the Torah – to teach us the need to give consideration even to those members of the nation who are on a low [spiritual] level, who have problems with basic faith, and not to belittle their importance.  And Moshe Rabbenu a”h was therefore commanded to remain in the wilderness, so that when the time comes, he will be able to uplift those protestors and bring them to their complete rectification.

Moshe’s death in the desert is described as serving to “revive” those who perished in the wilderness, because Moshe’s sin was precisely his failure to “revive” the people’s faith.

            The story of Mei Meriva, then, teaches us the importance of giving consideration to all our fellow Jews, regardless of their level of faith and religious commitment.  The Tolna Rebbe points in this context to the fact that we begin the Yom Kippur service on Kol Nidrei night by announcing our willingness “le-hitpalel im ha-avaryanim” – to pray together with sinners.  As we begin the most sacred day of the year, when we seek to reach the greatest possible spiritual heights, we announce that our quest for spiritual greatness does not mean a desire to dissociate from the “avaryanim.”  To the contrary, part of our quest for greatness is the quest for closeness with and love for all our fellow Jews, and our willingness to respond to them not with rejection and hostility, but rather with compassion, sensitivity and respect.

Sunday

            Among the incidents told in Parashat Chukat is that of the “nechashim ha-serafim,” the poisonous snakes that God unleashed against Benei Yisrael in response to their complaints about the lack of food in the wilderness (21:4-9).  One of the reasons given for this particular punishment is that the snakes’ lifestyle resembles, in one sense, Benei Yisrael’s existence in the wilderness.  In response to the snake’s luring Adam and Chava to sin, God decreed that the snake would crawl on the ground and eat only dirt (“ve-afar tokhal kol yemei chayekha” – Bereishit 3:14).  Receiving sustenance from earth offers the advantage of a constant, readily accessible supply of food, without ever having to exert any effort to obtain it.  The disadvantage, of course, is that dirt is bland and tasteless, and the snake could never enjoy any variety or the thrill of trying different and new foods.  Similarly, Benei Yisrael in the wilderness had a reliable daily source of sustenance – the manna – which they received without any effort or work.  However, they complained that they were “fed up” (“nafsheinu katza” – 21:5) with the manna because it was all they had to eat each and every day, year in and year out.

            God punished the people by sending them snakes, the example of a creature which subsists on readily accessible nourishment without enjoying variety.  The message conveyed – both to that generation, and to all future generations – is that we must never complain about the absence of luxuries and extra comforts.  God provides all of us with “manna” – our basic necessities – but few of us are given the ability to enjoy the full range of “delicacies” – comforts and luxuries – that we ideally want.  While the Torah does not discourage the pursuit of wealth per se, and we are certainly allowed and even encouraged to ask God for more than what we currently have, it is wrong to complain about the “manna” we are given because we desire more.  We are to feel content and grateful for whatever we have, no matter how little it is in comparison to what we would ideally want.  By unleashing the snakes, God conveyed to us the message that even if we are compelled to live the existence of the snake, receiving our basis sustenance but without the “extras” that we desire, we must nevertheless feel appreciative and not complain to God for not giving us more.

Monday

            Parashat Chukat begins with the laws of the para aduma (red heifer), the requirement to mix water with the ashes of a red cow which would be used to purify people and utensils that came in contact with a human corpse.  We read (19:9) that God commanded Moshe to store the ashes of the red heifer “outside the camp.”  Rashi, citing the Sifrei, explains that the ashes prepared in the time of Moshe were divided into three portions, and later, when the Beit Ha-mikdash was built, they were stored in different areas.  The first was entrusted to the kohanim and made available to those who needed it for purification.  Another was placed in the area of the cheyl outside the Temple courtyard as a commemoration of the original para aduma, and the third was kept on Har Ha-zeitim (the Mount of Olives) east of Jerusalem.  The ashes on Har Ha-zeitim, Rashi explains, were used for the kohanim who prepared ashes from subsequent red heifers.

            Different opinions exist among later commentators in explaining what precisely Rashi had in mind in describing the function of this third portion of ashes.  Chizkuni explains that this refers to the fact that those involved in preparing the ashes of the para aduma became ritually impure, as the Torah states in this section.  According to Chizkuni, the portion of the original para aduma stored on Har Ha-zeitim was used to purify those kohanim who became impure as a result of their involvement in preparing a new supply of para aduma ashes.  Siftei Chakhamim (to 19:2) explains much differently, claiming that every supply of para aduma ashes contained a bit of the ashes of the original para aduma prepared in Moshe’s time.  In this vein, Siftei Chakhamim explains Rashi’s comment (19:2) that God said to Moshe, “It [the para aduma] will always be known by your name.”  Every para aduma would be known “by Moshe’s name” because it would contain a bit of ashes from the original para aduma prepared under Moshe’s auspices.

 

            Rav Chaim Yitzchak David Weitz, in his Likutei Chayim, charges that Siftei Chakhamim’s explanation is “badui mi-leiv” (invented), noting that this theory – that part of the original para aduma ashes was mixed with the ashes of every subsequent para aduma – does not appear in any other source.  It should be noted, however, that the Terumat Ha-deshen, in his work on Rashi’s commentary (Bei’urei Maharai), indeed seems to advance this theory.  Commenting on Rashi’s remark, “It will always be known by your name,” the Terumat Ha-deshen writes, “Meaning, all the heifers that will be made forever more will be called by your name, because they all require the ashes of Moshe’s heifer which was stored on Har Ha-mishcha [Har Ha-zeitim] for all time.”

In any event, Rav Weitz explains Rashi’s comment to mean that this supply of ashes was used to purify the kohen who prepared para aduma ashes before he began the process.  In order to ensure that the new ashes would be pure, the kohen assigned the task of preparing them would first undergo a process of purification which included sprinkling with para aduma waters.  Rav Weitz suggests that the special supply of ashes on Har Ha-zeitim was used for this purpose, to prepare the kohen before he burned the para aduma to produce a new supply of ashes.  Rav Avraham Albert, in his Birkat Avraham, notes that this explanation might be proven from Rashi’s own comments elsewhere, in his commentary to Masekhet Yoma (4a), where he writes that the kohen slated to prepare the para aduma ashes was first purified with the ashes of the original para aduma.

Tuesday

            We read in Parashat Chukat of the snakes which God unleashed against Benei Yisrael in response to their complaints about the conditions of travel (21:4-9).  The Midrash (Bamidbar Rabba 19) comments that the snakes were chosen as the means of punishment because they bring to mind the snake that lured Chava to sin: “Why did He see fit to punish them with snakes?  Because the snake began speaking lashon ha-ra [negative speech], and became ruined, and they did not learn from him.”  The snake was guilty of lashon ha-ra by charging that God forbade partaking of the fruit of the forbidden tree for egotistical purposes, seeking to avoid the “threat” that Adam and Chava would pose if they ate the fruit.  Therefore, God chose to use snakes to punish Benei Yisrael, who spoke negatively about God and Moshe.

            How might we understand this connection between the snake in Gan Eden and Benei Yisrael’s complaints in the wilderness?

            The snake’s remarks to Chava represent, to the extreme, an example of resenting a situation that it is acceptable but imperfect.  Adam and Chava had everything at their disposal, and could enjoy just about everything they could have wanted – with the exception of that one tree.  The snake drew their attention to that one thing they could not have, and through this focus managed to build their resentment and impugn the Almighty’s motives for barring access to this tree.  Chazal perhaps seek to cast Benei Yisrael’s complaints in a similar light.  As they traveled in the wilderness, Benei Yisrael were miraculously sustained by God, who provided them with food from the heavens and water from a supernatural mobile well.  Yet, they focused their attention on what they lacked, complaining that they had “only” the manna (“ve-nafsheinu katza ba-lechem ha-kelokel” – 21:5), and this led them to resentment – “Why did you bring us out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?”

            Significantly, Chazal use in this context the term “lashon ha-ra,” which is commonly associated with negative speech about other people.  Indeed, the sin of lashon ha-ra is precisely focusing one’s attention on the unseemly qualities of others, and harboring hostile feelings as a result.  The Midrash’s comments should remind us of the importance of focusing our attention on all that is good and positive in the people around us and in the circumstances in which we find ourselves.  This way, we will avoid hostility and resentment, and will be able to experience a greater degree of contentment and enjoy the company of the people in our lives.

Wednesday

            The Gemara in Masekhet Yoma (42a) records a debate between Rav and Shemuel as to whether the para aduma must be slaughtered specifically by a kohen.  Rav ruled that a kohen must perform the act of slaughtering, whereas Shemuel maintained that this ritual may be performed even by a non-kohen.  When it comes to sacrifices, a well-known halakha establishes that the slaughtering of the animal – as opposed to the other stages of the sacrificial process – may be done even by a non-kohen.  Regarding the para aduma, however, Rav held that specifically a kohen must perform the act of slaughtering.

The Rambam, in Hilkhot Para Aduma (1:11), writes that all the stages of preparing the para aduma ashes are done by ordinary kohanim, and do not require specifically the kohen gadol.  The clear implication of this ruling is that the slaughtering must be performed by a kohen, as Rav maintains.  This is also the position taken by Targum Yonatan ben Uziel, in its translation of the verse in Parashat Chukat (19:3) that speaks of the slaughtering of the para aduma (“ve-khahana ocharan yikos yatei”).  Indeed, a famous halakhic principle establishes that when it comes to ritual matters (as opposed to civil matters), Halakha follows Rav’s opinion in his debates with Shemuel.  Naturally, then, the Rambam – and Targum Yonatan – followed Rav’s ruling requiring a kohen for the slaughtering of a para aduma.

Elsewhere, however, in Hilkhot Pesulei Ha-mukdashin (1:2), the Rambam writes that para aduma ashes are valid even if the cow had been slaughtered by a non-kohen.  Apparently, the Rambam understood Rav to mean that a para aduma should be slaughtered by a kohen, but if was slaughtered by a non-kohen, then, after the fact, it is nevertheless valid.  This is the position explicitly taken by Meiri (in his commentary to Masekhet Yoma), who generally follows the Rambam’s rulings.

By contrast, Rashi, in his commentary to Parashat Chukat, writes (citing the Sifrei) that even a non-kohen may slaughter the para aduma.  It seems that although Halakha follows Rav’s opinion, Rashi felt that Shemuel’s view better accommodates the plain reading of the text.  Rav Chaim Yitzchak David Weitz, in his Likutei Chayim, suggests that the reason why Rashi preferred Shemuel’s ruling is because of the word “lefanav” (“before him”) in this verse.  The Torah writes, “You shall give it [the red heifer] to Elazar the kohen; he shall take it outside the camp and slaughter it before him.”  As Elazar as the only person identified in this verse, the phrase “slaughter it before him” must seemingly mean that somebody else slaughters the animal in Elazar’s presence.  And since the Torah does not identify the person who performs the act of slaughtering, and does not stipulate any credentials, it stands to reason that this act may be done even by a non-kohen.

Thursday

            Yesterday, we noted Rashi’s comment in his commentary to Parashat Chukat (19:3) that the act of slaughtering the para aduma may be performed by a zar – meaning, a non-kohen.  Although the other stages of preparing the purification waters required specifically a kohen, this requirement does not apply to the shechita (slaughtering), which may be performed even by somebody who is not a kohen.  As we saw, this comment follows the position of Shemuel, as cited by the Gemara in Masekhet Yoma (42a).

            Interestingly, Chizkuni contends that this is not what Rashi meant.  He notes that earlier, Rashi writes that the first para aduma was to be prepared specifically by Elazar, who was the segan (“deputy”) kohen gadol.  According to Chizkuni, when Rashi writes here that the slaughtering may be performed by a “zar” (literally, “foreigner”), he means that it may be performed by a different kohen, and does not require specifically the segan kohen gadol.  Although the term zar is generally used to refer to somebody who is not a kohen, Chizkuni claims that Rashi here uses the term in reference to an ordinary kohen, as opposed to the segan kohen gadol.

            Rav Avraham Albert, in his Birkat Aharon, notes that support for Chizkuni’s contention may perhaps be found Rashi’s Talmud commentary (Yoma 42).  Rashi there comments that when the Torah commands regarding the para aduma, “…and he shall slaughter it in his presence,” it means that somebody else besides Elazar should slaughter the cow.  This reading of the verse seems to follow Chizkuni’s understanding – that the verse comes to counter the possibility that Elazar was required to slaughter the initial para aduma, just as he was required to perform the other rituals associated with the initial para aduma.  The verse’s intent is not to permit anybody to slaughter, but rather to negate the conclusion that this must be done specifically by Elazar, precisely as Chizkuni understood Rashi’s remarks in his Torah commentary.

Friday

            Among the many well-known approaches taken to explain God’s angry reaction to the incident of Mei Meriva, when Moshe hit the rock to produce water, is the theory presented by the Rambam, in Shemoneh Perakim (chapter 4).  The Rambam there develops the famous “doctrine of the mean,” explaining that we are to conduct ourselves in a proportionate, moderate fashion, delicately balancing different, conflicting tendencies and character traits.  The important exception to this rule, the Rambam writes, is the anger/tolerance spectrum, regarding which one must adhere to the extreme of tolerance.  Moshe failed, the Rambam contends, in that he angrily chastised the people – “Hear, O rebellions ones!” (20:10) – rather than humbly and patiently bearing their insults and complaints.

            In presenting this explanation, the Rambam writes:

When a person like him is angry in the presence of the Nation of Israel in a situation in which anger and the like is unwarranted, this person desecrates the Name, may it be blessed, because they all learn from his actions and words, and through them they hope to achieve success in this world and the next.  How can they see anger in him, which is among the evil actions, as we explained, and results only from evil qualities of the soul?

The gravity of Moshe’s sin, the Rambam suggests, lay not merely in the gravity of anger itself, but rather in the chilul Hashem that it created.  The people looked to Moshe as example and role model for them to follow.  They viewed his conduct as the ideal to which they should aspire, and thus his unwarranted anger marked a grave educational failure, as it gave the mistaken impression that this response to adversity is acceptable.

            Certainly, the particular severity of this incident stems from Moshe’s unique role as leader and prophet, but nevertheless, this lesson applies to all of us, on one level or another.  Our behavior sets an example to the people around us.  Whether we realize it or not, there are those who look to us as models to follow, or as representing what God and the Torah teach and demand.  And thus beyond the intrinsic need to conduct ourselves in a refined, courteous manner, we must also be sensitive to how our conduct is seen and interpreted.  Just as Moshe was to have taken greater care in regard to the image which he projected, we, too, must ensure that our conduct reflects the highest standards of the values championed by the Torah.