Parashat Hukat, Numbers 19:1-22:1

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A time to give birth and a time to die.

Study with Baruch Sienna

This week's Torah portion begins, Zot hukat hatorah, usually rendered as "This is the ritual law..." and goes on to describe the mysterious rite of the 'Red Heifer.' Hok, or hukah refers to laws that cannot be explained by human reason, and this law is the classic example. (Another example is sha'atnez- the prohibition against wearing a mixture of wool and linen). The red heifer's ashes purify someone who, by encountering a dead body, has become impure. The term hok, (or its plural hukim), is often paired with its complement, mishpatim, rules, or judgments that do make sense and that have a rational explanation. In Hebrew, when you see something inexplicable, you can say, 'mamash parah adumah -- truly a red heifer.' In fact, this mitzvah was so puzzling that according to the midrash, even Solomon the Wise did not understand it. "I have laboured to understand the word of God and have understood it all, except the ritual of the red-brown cow" (Numbers Rabbah 19:3).

This ritual doesn't make sense. How do ashes purify? Why does the calf have to be entirely red (just three white or black hairs disqualify it)? The rabbis admitted that this was a 'decree' that we cannot understand. The unusual phrase, hukat hatorah, can also be understood to mean, "this is the statute of the law", ie. the purpose of this law is unclear. Sometimes God's decrees are not fathomable. But the real mystery and unreasonable decree is not this mitzvah, but death.

This week's entire parasha is about death. The ritual of the red heifer is followed by the account of Miriam's death at Kadesh. The rabbis connect the death of Miriam to the subsequent verse where the Israelites complain of no water. Almost every mention of Miriam in the Torah is connected to water; even her name includes the Hebrew 'yam' sea. The midrash imagines a marvellous well, that provided water during the Israelites' travels. Now, with her death, the well vanished. Instead of weeping for Miriam, the Israelites cry out for water. Rabbi Mordecai Finley suggests that the well stopped up, shocked at our lack of tears. Surprisingly, Miriam's death is noted in just half a verse; Miriam's death and all the previous elaborate ritual surrounding death seem ignored. Not having the opportunity to properly grieve, the trauma of his sister Miriam's death and the lack of water set the stage for Moses' final breakdown- hitting the rock out of frustration and grief.

Later in the same chapter, we also read of the death of Moses' brother Aaron. Here, in contrast, the Torah tells us, "All the house of Israel bewailed Aaron thirty days." This and a similar mention of thirty days for Moses (Deut. 34:8) are the two biblical sources for the thirty period of shloshim; this has personal relevance for me as this coming week I will be marking the end of shloshim for my father who passed away last month. Except for Moses (and Joshua and Caleb who will live to enter the land), the entire generation of the Exodus has now perished. Our parasha has skipped ahead since last week, and forty years have passed since the Exodus from Egypt.

This week's parasha seems to be asking, how can our life have meaning if we die? This question is a mystery like the red heifer. How can ashes purify the impure and at the same time make the impure, pure? It seems counter-intuitive; the rabbis were not familiar with toggle switch theory. In most homes, light switches have an on position and an off position; the on switches lamps on, the off switches them off. But in our home we have a staircase with switches at both ends that are very clever. These 'toggle switches' turn the light to its opposite state: if it is on, it turns it off, and if it is off it turns it on. (I can't figure out how it knows, but it works). The red heifer is a toggle switch.

King Solomon should have known about toggle switches from this folktale about him. Solomon asked his wise men (and you can imagine how wise they must have been) to give him something that would cheer him up when he was sad, but would sadden him when he was happy. Now, either thing by itself would not be that difficult, and perhaps the same thing (a piece of music, or a sunset for example) might cheer one person up, while sadden another. But it is hard to imagine the same thing having the opposite effect on the same person. They thought and thought, and finally crafted a ring for the king, with the Hebrew words, Gam Zeh Ya'avor: This too shall pass.

Further in chapter nineteen, the verse continues, "Zot hatorah ki yamut ..." This is the Teaching [concerning] a person who dies in a tent (Num. 19:14). A Chasidic commentary reads the verse: "This is the Torah: human beings die." In other words, the Torah is our response to that ultimate hukah of our death. Even if death is not understood, the rituals around death and bereavement provide great comfort and support to the mourners.

Death is a great mystery, the ultimate 'hukkah.' According to tradition, King Solomon is the author of the book of Ecclesiastes. In his old age he concludes, "There is a time to give birth and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot that which is planted" (Ecc. 3:2).

 

Shabbat Shalom

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