S.A.L.T. PARASHAT CHUKAT

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei Shabbat

            Parashat Chukat begins with the laws of the para aduma, the red heifer, which was turned to ashes that were then used for the purpose of purifying those who had come in contact with a human corpse.

            The Sifrei, commenting on the Torah’s introduction to this subject (“Zot chukat ha-Torah”), notes the use of the word “chukat” in this context and in the context of the  Yom Kippur service (“Ve-hayeta lakhem le-chukat olam” – Vayikra 16:29).  On the basis of this parallel, the Sifrei establishes that the preparation of the para aduma requires wearing “bigdei lavan,” just like the Yom Kippur service.  Meaning, the kohen who prepares the ashes of the para aduma must wear the same kind of garments that the kohen gadol wears when he performs the Yom Kippur service.  The Sifrei’s ruling is in contrast to the Gemara’s comment in Masekhet Yoma (43a), “ha-kohen be-kihuno,” which indicates that the kohen who prepares the ashes of the para aduma wears his normal priestly garments.  If he is an ordinary kohen, then he wears the usual four garments worn by kohanim, and if the kohen gadol prepares the ashes of the para aduma, then he wears the eight garments reserved for the high priest.  The Sifrei, however, maintains that the kohen who prepares the ashes of the para aduma wears the special Yom Kippur garments, and that it does not matter whether he is the kohen gadol or an ordinary kohen.

            The Rambam, in Hilkhot Para Aduma (1:12), appears to follow neither position.  He writes that the kohen who prepares the para aduma wears the normal four garments of an ordinary kohen, even if he is the kohen gadol.  This ruling certainly runs contrary to the Gemara’s position, which requires a kohen gadol to wear his special eight garments while preparing the ashes of the para aduma.  And, as the Mishneh Le-melekh notes, the Rambam’s comments also appear to run in opposition to the Sifrei, which requires the kohen to wear the bigdei lavan.  The Rambam describes the bigdei lavan in a different context, in Hilkhot Kelei Ha-mikdash (8:3), where he indicates that they generally resemble the four garments worn by ordinary kohanim, except that the avneit (belt) is made entirely from flax.  In the uniform of ordinary kohanim, the avneit is woven from both wool and flax (a combination that is generally forbidden, but allowed in the priestly garments), whereas in the Yom Kippur uniform, the avneit must be made entirely of flax.  Thus, when the Rambam rules that the kohen who prepares the para aduma must wear the four garments of ordinary kohanim, he rules that the kohen wears an avneit woven from wool and linen.  This ruling therefore differs from the ruling of the Sifrei, which requires the kohen to wear the garments worn on Yom Kippur, which were made entirely from flax, without any wool, even in the avneit.

            It would appear that the Rambam’s ruling is based upon the ruling of the Tosefta (Para, chapter 4), which writes explicitly that the kohen who prepared the para aduma ashes wore “the bigdei lavan of an ordinary kohen.”  The Rambam likely understood the Tosefta as presenting a third view, requiring the kohen to wear the four garments of ordinary kohanim, even if he is the kohen gadol, in contrast to the ruling of the Gemara and to the ruling of the Sifrei.

The Mishneh Le-melekh claimed that we may reconcile the Tosefta’s ruling with that of the Sifrei, in light of the debate in the Gemara (Yoma 12, 23) as to whether the avneit of ordinary kohanim indeed contained wool.  One view maintained that the garments did not contain any wool, in which case all four garments of ordinary kohanim – including the avneit – resembled the bigdei lavan worn by the kohen gadol on Yom Kippur.  It is possible, the Mishneh Le-melekh writes, that the Tosefta followed this view, and therefore its ruling, that the kohen who prepares the para aduma wears the garments of ordinary kohanim, is consistent with the view of the Sifrei, that the kohen wore the Yom Kippur garments.

In any event, it stands to reason that the Rambam understood the Tosefta as reflecting a third view, distinct from that of the Sifrei, and he considered the Tosefta’s ruling the authoritative position.

Sunday

            We read in Parashat Chukat of the perplexing incident of Mei Meriva, where God instructed Moshe and Aharon to produce water from a rock in the wilderness in response to the people’s complaints about the lack of water.  Moshe indeed hits the rock with his staff and produces water, but God responds angrily, announcing that Moshe and Aharon would die in the wilderness and not cross the Jordan River into Eretz Yisrael, because they disobeyed His command.  Numerous attempts have been made to identify where precisely Moshe and Aharon erred in this incident, to find the distinction between what they were supposed to do and what they did.

            The Netziv, in his Ha’amek Davar (20:8), famously explains that God had instructed Moshe to prepare Benei Yisrael for their transition to “natural life” across the river.  Throughout the forty years of travel in the wilderness, God sustained the people through supernatural means, whereas after the nation’s entry into Eretz Yisrael, their existence would follow the familiar laws of nature.  The drying of the miraculous well in the wilderness provided the opportunity for Moshe to demonstrate the proper procedure to be followed in situations of drought in Eretz Yisrael.  God wanted Moshe to assemble the people and speak to them, to conduct a special session of learning and prayer to become deserving of water.  The command was not to speak to the rock, but rather to speak to the people alongside the rock.  This was intended to prepare them for the public gatherings that would be required in situations of drought and other crises once the people cross into Eretz Yisrael.  God would then respond to the nation’s prayer and efforts to repent by providing them with water.  Moshe, however, assembled the people and hit the rock, just as he had done many years earlier, shortly after the Exodus (Shemot 17:6).  He failed to prepare the people for their transition to a “normal” existence, and instead continued the miraculous existence that the nation had lived for the last forty years.

            One of the great challenges of leadership is overseeing change and transition.  Tradition requires consistency, doing the same thing regardless of changing circumstances, and leaders thus bear the responsibility of demonstrating the eternal relevance and application of our Torah tradition in an ever-changing world.  At the same time, the precise manner of application of the Torah’s laws and values often depends upon circumstances.  In Moshe’s case, the belief that God provides our material needs is eternal and unchanging, but the manifestation of this provision underwent a drastic change once Benei Yisrael crossed the Jordan River.  Moshe was to prepare the people for this change by showing them how to ask for rain in Eretz Yisrael.  If the people were not taught this lesson, they ran the risk of believing in God’s control over water in the wilderness, but not in the context of the natural agricultural cycle in Eretz Yisrael.  The incident of Mei Meriva thus reminds us that although the Torah itself never changes, the means of preserving and promoting its laws and precepts must take into account changing realities.  The educational approach taken at Chorev shortly after the Exodus was not the appropriate method as Benei Yisrael prepared to cross the Jordan after forty years of supernatural existence in the wilderness.  Different circumstances require different techniques, and what works in one reality might not be appropriate in others.

Monday

            It is commonly understood that God’s angry reaction to Moshe and Aharon’s conduct during the incident of Mei Meriva was triggered by Moshe’s hitting of the rock to produce water, deviating from God’s instruction to speak to the rock.  This assumption gives rise to the obvious question of why this deviation – which produced the desired result of producing water – rendered Moshe and Aharon worthy of such a harsh response, being denied entry into Eretz Yisrael.  Rashi (20:12) explained that producing water by speaking to the rock would have conveyed a powerful lesson of obedience to the divine command, as Benei Yisrael would have noted how even inanimate objects faithfully obey God’s instructions.  The Netziv, as we discussed yesterday, suggested that Moshe was to have spoken to the people and taught them about petitioning God for water during periods of drought.  According to both these approaches, Moshe and Aharon were punished for squandering a valuable educational opportunity.

            But there is also an additional question that deserves our attention: why, in fact, did Moshe deviate from the divine command?  However we choose to understand the significance of speaking versus hitting, what led Moshe to choose the latter?  What could have prompted God’s most trusted servant to deviate, however slightly, from His clear instructions?

            Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch, in his Torah commentary (to 20:10-11), ventures an explanation:

May we dare to try and follow the track of his mind, and imagine what the emotions must have been to have been able to make a Moses – that most faithful servant of God, of whom God Himself testified be-khol beiti ne’eman hu – deviate, in one moment of his life, from exactly carrying out a mission given to him by God?  Our conjecture is: At God’s command, Moses took the staff again in his hand out of the Sanctuary where it had reposed for nearly forty years, and with this badge of his mission coming from God, he assembled the nation.  But when, after nearly forty years, he saw himself directed to the people with the staff of God again in his hand, the staff which nearly forty years ago he had required for the people as testimony and credential of his mission (Shemot 4:1-15, 17), it hurt him grievously to think that in all these forty years, and with all that he had done in those forty years, he had still not won the confidence and trust of his people, and in the bitterness of these feelings he forgot his orders, and spoke, instead of quietly addressing the rock, words of deep reproach to the people, and in passionate agitation struck the rock…

As he elaborates earlier in his commentary (20:8), Rav Hirsch views the staff as the symbol of Moshe’s status as God’s messenger.  Indeed, when Moshe first presented himself to the people in Egypt as the one assigned by the Almighty to lead them to freedom, it was through the staff that he proved his authenticity.  But ever since the battle against Amalek nearly forty years earlier, the staff had not been needed as confirmation of Moshe’s status – until now.  At Mei Meriva, the people complained not to God, but to Moshe and Aharon, accusing them of bringing the nation to this arid place on their own, not by divine mission (“Ve-lama haveitem…Ve-lama he’elitunu…”).  The need to confirm his status as God’s messenger, after forty years of devoted leadership and service to the nation, disturbed Moshe.  “And in the bitterness of those feelings,” Rav Hirsch explains, he experienced a momentary lapse.  Most uncharacteristically, Moshe Rabbenu “forgot his orders” and did what he had not been told to do.

Rav Hirsch’s analysis of this episode conveys a critical lesson that is applicable to every parent, educator, leader and community volunteer.  Succinctly put, that message is: “Do not allow yourself to get frustrated when you don’t see the desired results.”  There is perhaps nothing more frustrating than devoting years of one’s life, his time, energy and other resources, to a goal that remains unrealized.  Moshe’s aggravation as he held his staff is not unlike the experience of a teacher who wonders if a year of hard work has had any educational impact, or of a parent who asks why the grueling years of childrearing are not producing the results he or she wants.  The episode of Mei Meriva should caution us to avoid such thoughts, to never allow unrealized expectations to diminish from our resolve or to discourage us.  No endeavor that we undertake can be guaranteed success.  Not everything we try will work.  And we must not let this reality discourage us from trying, from investing our full attention and efforts, even as we recognize that this investment may not necessarily yield the desired dividends.

We could have forgiven Moshe for the agitation he experienced having to once again prove himself to the people after all that had transpired over the previous forty years.  But God did not forgive Moshe.  From the perspective of theodicy, as the Ramban famously comments, Moshe’s punishment remains a mystery.  But it conveys the lesson that we must not allow disappointment to overwhelm us, that we must persist with optimism and determination even if our initial efforts appear unsuccessful.  If we fall into the trap of despair, then, like Moshe, we might – if only momentarily – lose sight of our obligations.  We must continue working and doing our best, and not allow setbacks to send us into despair.

Tuesday

            The opening section of Parashat Chukat deals with the topic of tum’at meit – the status of tum’a obtained through contact with a human corpse.  The Torah establishes that one who touches a human corpse is rendered tamei for a period of seven days (19:11), and it proceeds to outline the procedure whereby this status is removed.

            The Sifrei Zuta, commenting on this section, writes, “Nogei’a be-meit tamei, ein meit atzmo tamei” – “One who touches a corpse is tamei, but the corpse itself is not tamei.”  Chazal here establish that a human corpse does not obtain the status of tum’at meit, as opposed to living people who touch a corpse, who indeed become tamei.  At first glance, this comment might seem absurd, as there are no practical implications of the personal status of a deceased person as tamei or tahor.  The explanation, seemingly, is that the Sifrei Zuta made this comment with regard to the issue of an individual’s status after resurrection.  Intuitively, we might have assumed that after techiyat ha-meitim (resurrection of the dead), all the resurrected people will require the process of purification outlined here in Parashat Chukat, as their own death had rendered them tamei.  The Sifrei Zuta, it seems, informs us that to the contrary, a deceased person is not considered personally tamei, even though his or her remains impart tum’a to others.  As such, a resurrected individual would not require purification.

            The Imrei Emet (cited in the work Pardeis Yosef to Vayikra 10:2) noted that this issue appears to be addressed by the Gemara in Masekhet Nidda (70b), which tells of a series of “foolish” questions (“divrei borut”) posed to Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananya by  the Jewish community of Alexandria.  One of these questions was whether or not at the time of techiyat ha-meitim the resurrected dead will require the process of purification outlined by the Torah in Parashat Chukat.  Rabbi Yehoshua’s response – “By the time they live we will be wise enough for them” – seems to accept the legitimacy of the question, and he dismisses it only because we will certainly have the halakhic tools to answer it properly by the time the resurrection happens.  The Imrei Emet observed that according to the Sifrei Zuta, there appears to be no question at all.  A deceased person does not have a status of tum’a, and there is thus no reason to think that he or she would require purification after resurrection.  Why, then, was this question posed?

            Rav Chaim Dov Eisenstein, in his Peninim Mi-bei Midresha, notes that according to a number of readings of the Gemara’s discussion found in the commentaries, the Imrei Emet’s question is immediately answered.  Tosefot, for example, write that the question posed to Rabbi Yehoshua relates not to the standard halakhic status of tum’at meit, but rather to the special process of spiritual purification that the Jewish nation will undergo at the time of the final redemption.  The prophet Yechezkel (36:25) famously foresees the time when God will “cast purifying waters” upon Benei Yisrael to purify them.  The people of Alexandria raised the question of whether the prophet refers here to “haza’a shelishi u-shevi’i” – the sprinkling of the para aduma waters that is required for purification from tum’at meit – or to some other kind of “waters.”  It was clear that a resurrected individual is not considered ritually impure by virtue of having experienced death; the question was whether or not the “purification” foreseen by the prophet involves the para aduma waters or some other substance that will be used especially for this purpose.

            The Maharsha explains the Gemara’s question differently, claiming that it refers to a person’s status of tum’a before death.  The people of Alexandria asked whether the resurrected dead at the time of techiyat ha-meitim will retain the status of impurity that they had at the time when they died.  Will that status remain in place, thus requiring them to undergo the standard process of purification with the para aduma waters, or will they be considered new “entities” that are divested of any prior halakhic statuses?  Essentially, the Gemara’s question was whether the resurrected dead will be considered newly-born people, or the same people they had been before death.  In any event, according to the Maharsha’s reading, the Gemara’s discussion bears no connection whatsoever to the Sifrei Zuta’s comment, as the Gemara refers to the resurrected people’s previous status of tum’a, whereas the Sifrei Zuta established that a person who dies while in a state of ritual purity does not become ritually impure by dying.

            Interestingly enough, the Rivash (as cited by the Ambuha De-sifrei commentary to the Sifrei Zuta) addressed the question of how we allow kohanim to be buried in cemeteries.  A kohen, of course, is forbidden from contracting tum’at meit, and thus by bringing his remains into a cemetery, one causes him to violate a Torah prohibition.  The obvious answer, as the Rivash writes, is that an individual is not bound by the Torah’s laws after death, and thus others, too, may bring a kohen’s remains into a position of tum’a.  But additionally, the Rivash writes that a person in any event becomes tamei with death, and thus there is no prohibition against bringing a kohen’s remains into a cemetery, as he is already tamei.  According to the Sifrei Zuta, of course, this assumption is incorrect, and a deceased kohen would not be considered tamei by virtue of his death.

Wednesday

            The Torah in Parashat Chukat presents the basic laws of tum’at meit, the status of impurity generated by a human corpse.  This is the strictest of all types of tum’a, in several respects, including the ability to contract this type of tum’a without direct contact.  The Torah writes that if a person dies in a tent, for example, then all people and utensils in the tent assume the status of tum’at meit, a status which they retain until they complete the weeklong process of purification outlined in this parasha.

            A famous passage in the Gemara (Shabbat 83b) comments on the Torah’s description of the case of a person who dies in a tent – “Zot ha-torah adam ki yamut be-ohel” (“This is the law concerning a person who dies in a tent” – 19:14).  The Gemara reads this verse to mean that “the Torah is sustained only in one who kills himself over it.”  The image of a person who “dies in a tent” is viewed as an allegory for one who exerts immense effort in the “tent” of Torah learning.  And the Torah here instructs that “zot ha-Torah” – this is the way of acquiring and retaining Torah knowledge, by “killing” oneself to know, understand and internalize the words and concepts of the Torah.

            We might raise the question of whether any connection exists between the message articulated by the Gemara and the context in which this verse appears.  Did the Gemara homiletically take this verse entirely out context, or, does its homiletic reading reflect an association of sorts between the message of “killing oneself” over Torah and the laws of tum’at meit?

            It is possible that Chazal here seek to draw a contrast between the image of a lifeless corpse, and the vitality, rigor and energy that must characterize the beit midrash experience and Torah life generally.  A corpse is the ultimate symbol of passivity and inaction.  It is still and motionless, and has no possibility of ever achieving or producing.  The lifelong endeavor of talmud Torah must follow the precise opposite model – that of fervor, dynamism, ambition and hard work.

            Additionally, we are bidden to transform the unfortunate reality of “adam ki yamut be-ohel” to a situation of “meimit atzmo aleha” – effort and energy in the pursuit of excellence of Torah.  The misfortunes, hardships and problems that arise all around us could easily discourage us from setting and pursuing ambitious spiritual goals; they threaten to deflate our idealism and sap our reservoirs of emotional energy and vigor.  Therefore, specifically in the context of “adam ki yamut be-ohel,” in reference to the disheartening realities of the world, our Sages remind us of the ideal of “meimit atzmo aleha,” of exerting ourselves with vigor and passion in the pursuit of religious excellence.  They exhort to withstand the natural tendency toward negativism and despair, and approach Torah and mitzvot with energy and determination despite the harsh realities that we encounter over the course of life.

Thursday

            The opening section of Parashat Chukat discusses the procedure for preparing the para aduma waters, and then discusses the laws concerning tum’at meit – the status of impurity resulting from contact with a corpse, a status which is removed through the sprinkling of the para aduma waters.  In presenting these laws, the Torah first addresses the situation of somebody who came in direct contact with a human corpse (19:11-13), followed the situation of tum’at ohel – where a person is under the same roof as a human corpse.  Regarding the first instance, the case of tum’at maga (direct contact), the Torah describes the situation in two different verses.  First, it speaks of one who “touches the dead body of any human being” (“ha-nogei’a be-meit le-khol nefesh adam” – 19:11), and requires that the individual undergo the purification process involving the para aduma waters.  Then, the Torah proceeds to specify the punishment for one who enters the Mishkan in a state of purity – kareit – and speaks of a case of “any person who touches the dead body of a human being, a person who dies…” (“kol ha-nogei’a be-meit be-nefesh ha-adam asher yamut” – 19:13).

            Rav Yitzchak Zev Soloveitchik (the “Brisker Rav”) noted that these two different descriptions refer to two different categories of tum’at meit.  The distinction between these two categories is familiar to us from the laws of the nazir, who is forbidden from coming in contact with a human corpse.  The Torah (Bamidbar 6:9-12) establishes that if a nazir accidentally becomes tamei, he is required to shave his hair, bring special sacrifices, and then begin his term of nezirut anew.  However, as the Rambam discusses in Hilkhot Nezirut (chapter 7), there are several cases of tum’at meit that do not require a nazir to undergo this procedure.  The Rambam (halakha 6) lists twelve such scenarios, including contact with a revi’it of blood or with the stone over a grave, and walking through an area where a grave had been found.  These scenarios render a person temei meit, and yet, in the case of the nazir, they do not require him to cut his hair and begin observing his term of nezirut anew.

            This distinction is also relevant with regard to the prohibition against entering the Beit Ha-mikdash in a state of tum’at meit.  The Gemara establishes in Masekhet Nazir (56b) that one is liable to kareit for this offense only if he had contracted a kind of tum’at meit that requires a nazir to undergo the process mentioned above.  If a person had become tamei in a manner that does not require a nazir to shave his hair and begin his term anew, then although he is still forbidden from entering the Mikdash, violating this offense does not render him liable to kareit.

            This distinction, the Brisker Rav noted, is reflected in the aforementioned verses in Parashat Chukat that discuss tum’at meit.  The first speaks simply of the status of tum’at meit which renders one tamei and requires the sprinkling of the para aduma waters.  This halakha applies to all forms of contact with a deceased person.  The second verse, however, deals specifically with the kareit punishment for those who enter the Mikdash in a state of tum’a, and it refers only to specific instances of tum’at meit, as discussed.  This distinction is expressed by the different formulations in the two verses –“ha-nogei’a be-meit le-khol nefesh ha-adam,” as opposed to “kol ha-nogei’a be-meit be-nefesh ha-adam asher yamut.”  The situations are described differently because the first refers to contact with any remains of a deceased human being, whereas the second refers to particular circumstances, the same circumstances that require a nazir to shave his hair and begin a new term of nezirut.

Friday

            Concluding his commentary to the opening section of Parashat Chukat, which discusses the laws of the para aduma, Rashi presents the theory developed by Rabbi Moshe Ha-darshan that associates this ritual with the sin of the golden calf.  Rabbi Moshe Ha-darshan claimed that this mitzva, which involves a cow, serves to atone for the sin of the calf, as the “mother” comes to clean the mess made by her “child.”  The para aduma – a cow – “cleans” the “mess” of the calf, her “child.”  As Rashi cites, Rabbi Moshe Ha-darshan proceeded to demonstrate how several details of the para aduma procedure symbolize various aspects of cheit ha-eigel.

            Numerous approaches have been suggested to explain this association between cheit ha-eigel and the mitzva of para aduma.  One possibility, perhaps, emerges from the Gemara’s description in Masekhet Shabbat (89a) of the background to cheit ha-eigel.  The Gemara writes that when Benei Yisrael noticed that Moshe had not returned from the top of Mount Sinai at the expected time, Satan showed them an image of Moshe lying dead in a coffin.  The people thus concluded that Moshe had died, and this led them to seek a new figurehead or deity (as they said to Aharon, “Go make for us a god [or ‘leader’]…because this man, Moshe – we do not know what happened to him” – Shemot 32:1).  Chazal generally use the term “Satan” in reference to a prevalent manifestation of the yetzer ha-ra, a natural human tendency or weakness that can lead us to wrongful behavior.  When our Sages speak about “Satan,” they alert us to common human tendencies which we must try to avoid, or overcome.  In the Gemara’s depiction of cheit ha-eigel, it appears that the “Satan” refers to the natural human tendency to “press the panic button,” to react to unanticipated circumstances with unwarranted anxiety and alarm.  The Gemara observes that cheit ha-eigel was the result (in part) of the nation’s panic in response to Moshe’s delayed return.  They rashly concluded that Moshe perished at the peak of Mount Sinai, rather than calmly and patiently waiting another day.  Among the indirect causes of cheit ha-eigel, then, was the people’s “collapse” in the face of adversity, the loss of composure and sensibility in response to unforeseen developments.

            The para aduma is used to transform a person from a condition of tum’a to a state of tahara.  Specifically, it serves to divest a person of the status of impurity obtained through contact with a human corpse, an encounter with death.  Such an encounter can leave a person rattled, despondent and pessimistic, and the process of purification from tum’at meit signifies the ability, and the need, to overcome these feelings and regain one’s vitality after the experience of encountering a corpse.  The para aduma, the instrument that restores the ritual purity that was lost through contact with death, is the “antidote” to the incident of cheit ha-eigel, to the disastrous effects of pessimism and anxiety.  The institution of para aduma bids us to ignore the attempts of the “Satan” to breed negativism and despair, to trust in the prospect of a bright future despite the gloomy present.  It demands that we respond to adversity not as Benei Yisrael did at the foot of Mount Sinai on the 16^th of Tammuz, but rather with optimism and a steady, gradual process of “purification,” moving ourselves forward with conviction and hope.  The para aduma, the “mother,” comes to clean the “mess” created by negativism and anxiety, by showing us that any state of “tum’a” has the possibility of being replaced by a regained state of “tahara.”