INTRODUCTION TO PARASHAT HASHAVUA
PARASHAT CHUKAT
The Victory over Sichon and Og
By Rabbi Michael Hattin
Introduction
Parashat Chukat, midway through Sefer Bamidbar, constitutes the chronological turning point of the Book. The Parasha begins with a lengthy description of the mysterious rites of the Red Heifer, a ceremony that restores a state of Tahara to an individual who has come in contact with corpse Tum'a. The Red Heifer is burned along with cedar, hyssop and scarlet, the collected ashes are gathered and combined with spring water, and the mixture is sprinkled upon the petitioner on the third and seventh days. Whatever the deeper meaning of this service, it is thematically significant, for it offers closure to the wilderness experience. The generation that left Egypt, condemned to perish for its indiscretions and tainted with the drabness of death, takes its leave in this week's Parasha; with an unexpected suddenness, the generation poised to enter the Promised Land takes its place.
In the fortieth and final year of the wanderings, as the people reach the arid wilderness of Zin, Miriam perishes, soon to be followed by her brother Aharon and eventually Moshe himself. The people of Israel, thirsty and impatient to embrace their new destiny, had cried out for water and relief, and Moshe and Aharon sought God's counsel. These two brothers, who had faithfully led the people since the Exodus, are told by God to speak to the rock so that it might give water to the parched masses, but they impetuously abrogate God's command and strike it. In consequence, they too are doomed to not enter the land of Canaan.
The Demise of Israel's Leaders
The commentaries offer a surprising array of explanations for God's unexpectedly harsh decree against Moshe and Aharon, none of them entirely satisfactory. But viewing the matter from a broader perspective, one can sense, if not justice, then at least some measure of balance to the troubling events. The demise of Miriam, the death of Aharon, and the standing sentence against Moshe all attest to their inviolable connection to the people, for the threesome had exercised prominent leadership roles ever since Israel had chafed under the Egyptian yoke.
Moshe and Aharon had at that time strengthened their flock's flagging spirits, had taken up the struggle to liberate them, and had exalted in their eventual triumph as Pharaoh finally relented and set them free. Miriam, according to persistent traditions, had been instrumental in bringing forth their young, and had continued to encourage and inspire them at the banks of the Sea of Reeds. The three had never been absent from the people's lives, had never been far from their cries, had mourned their failures and rejoiced in their accomplishments. Moshe could legitimately claim (with some consternation), that he had been appointed as their "nursemaid," to gently carry the people in his arms to the land that God had sworn to their ancestors (see Bamidbar 11:12), and the other two could rightly share that assertion. How then could they in good conscience part from the people, detachedly observe them be devoured by the unforgiving dust, and then jubilantly accompany their children to the land flowing with milk and honey? Thus, the fate of the three is sealed. Although guiltless of the people's crime of faithlessly embracing the report of the Spies, they too must perish, to remain forever with their hapless kin interred on the eastern side of the Jordan.
The Encounter with Sichon
The people, the new generation raised by God on the scarcity of the wilderness and on its promise, finally begin their relentless march to Canaan. Skirting the territory of Edom, they encounter the hostile Canaanite King of Arad, who engages them in battle. The people vanquish him, and approach the land of Moav. Encamping at the wadi of Arnon, located midway along the length of the Dead Sea, they pause. Beyond this imposing dry riverbed canyon had once stretched the Kingdom of Moav, but the Moavites had lost much of their ancestral territory to the menacing monarch that now exercised rule over these fertile lands: Sichon, the King of the Amorites.
This imposing figure had some time earlier swept forth out of the Trans-Jordanian highlands to seize Moavite territory, in a battle so fierce that it had been recorded by the balladeers of the day in lamenting stanzas brimming with exaggerated descriptions of Sichon's prowess: "The people (of Israel) traveled, and encamped beyond Arnon, in the wilderness past the border of the Amorites, for Arnon was the border of Moav, between Moav and the Amorites. Therefore, it has been recorded in the Book of the Wars of the Lord: 'Vahev was taken by storm, as were the tributaries of the Arnon. So too the rapids close by the dwelling of Ar, which are situated close by the border of Moav…'" (Bamidbar 21:13-15).
The Book of the Wars of the Lord
Offering a novel insight, the Ramban (13th century, Spain) explains that the so-called 'Book of the Wars of the Lord,' mentioned only here and presumed lost, was authored by the "wise men of those times, who would record the great battles, for such is the practice in every generation. The authors of such works would be called 'Moshlim,' for they would employ the literary techniques of parable (MaShaL) and rhetoric. They would ascribe victories, that to them appeared to be miraculous, to God, for such are truly His. The prowess of Sichon against the Moavites was wondrous in their eyes and they therefore recorded it in this work. They spoke of 'the storm' that Sichon had unleashed against the Moavite city of Vahev, against the towns that dwelt along the rapids of the Arnon…for God had destroyed it all in Sichon's sudden and violent onslaught" (commentary to 21:13).
Significantly, the Torah freely quotes from this otherwise obscure work, that at least for the Ramban is nothing more than a tract of 'secular' history devoted to descriptions of temporal rulers and their bloody military exploits. At first glance, such a citing seems jarringly incongruous, with one Talmudic sage even having the audacity to exclaim that these "verses are worthy of being burned" (Talmud Bavli Chulin 60b)! Nevertheless, the Torah records the words of these balladeers with good reason, for we shall see that their poetry sheds light on the entire theme of Parashat Chukat.
The Battle with Sichon
The people of Israel, now positioned at Sichon's gates, request permission to traverse his territory "neither turning off the main road to trample field or vineyard, nor drinking from his wells, but rather remaining on the highway until passing through" (Bamidbar 21:22). Sichon, flushed with his recent victory over the Moavites and unconvinced of Israel's benign intentions, miscalculates terribly and ventures forth to engage them in battle in the wilderness at Yahatz. "Israel vanquished him by the tip of the sword and inherited his territory, from the Arnon to the Yabok, to the land of Amon, for the border of the Ammonites was secure. Israel took all of these cities and dwelt in all of the Amorite towns, in Cheshbon and its satellites. For Cheshbon was the capital of Sichon King of the Amorites, who himself had battled the earlier King of Moav and seized his lands to the Arnon. Therefore the balladeers ('Moshlim') say: 'come to Cheshbon, for Sichon's city shall be built and established. A fire has gone forth from Cheshbon, a flame from Sichon's city, it has consumed Ar of Moav and the governors of Arnon's heights. Woe is Moav, the people of Kemosh are lost, for he has rendered his sons refugees and given his daughters as captives to Sichon the Amorite King…" (Bamidbar 21:24-29).
Thus, the initial victory of Sichon over Moav had been so astounding, that the chroniclers of the day had described it as a 'storm,' and a 'fire' that had laid Moavite territory waste and established Sichon as the uncontested ruler of the region. His expansive kingdom now extended along the entire upper half of the Dead Sea, continuing along the banks of the Jordan all the way up until the modern day Golan Heights, where it bounded the lands of his even more sinister kinsman, Og King of the Bashan. Who could dare to dispute Sichon's ascendancy or to challenge his dominion? Who would dare to cross his path without showing deference to his supremacy?
The Destiny of Israel
Enter Israel, the people of God, a nation never well known for its martial traditions or menacing military might. Confronting Sichon's bellicose belligerence with a softly worded request for passage, they are summarily rebuffed and instead attacked with force. In a showdown so often played out over the course of their drawn out and almost surreal history, the people of Israel remarkably prevail. The regional superpower is toppled, his iron grip is broken, and the surrounding nations look on in disbelief.
The Torah's decision to record the words of the balladeers is an emphatic declaration that Israel's history is unlike the history of any other nation. It exists in a dimension that is only partially explicable in terms of power politics and global alliances, for its true destiny transcends them all. When God wills it, Moses the Lawgiver trounces Sichon the Tyrant, the selfsame chieftain who had only a short time earlier dispensed with the respectable Kingdom of Moav as so much dry kindling. When God wills it, neither the force of the Pharaoh nor the strength of Sichon, nor even the authority of Og can prevail.
"The people (of Israel) turned and headed northward by way of the Bashan, but Og the King of the Bashan sallied forth with all of his people to battle them at Edrei. God said to Moshe 'Do not fear him, for I will give him and all of his people into your hand. You shall do to him as you did to Sichon the King of the Amorites, who dwelt in Cheshbon.' The people of Israel smote him and his sons and all of his people completely, leaving not a remnant, and they inherited his land…" (Bamidbar 21:33-35).
Of course, with the downfall of these two, the gates to Canaan were thrown wide open. The Canaanite and Amorite city-states that dotted the lands west of the Jordan were thrown into a panic by the Israelite victory. The triumphant words that the people had sung on the shores of the Sea of Reeds some forty years earlier, concerning the "trembling chieftains of Edom and Moav, the Canaanites who would melt from fright" (see Shemot 15:14-19), were now coming true, bolstered immeasurably by the Israelite triumph. But all of it was for only one reason: that "God would rule forever and ever" (IBID). The purpose of the Israelite victory was not to cross the Jordan in order to found an empire after the storied example of Sichon or Og, but rather to craft a state predicated upon the bedrock of the Torah, the principles of ethics and morality, the rule of God.
In the Biblical books, the remarkable victory over Sichon and Og looms very large. Moshe refers to it in the Book of Devarim (2:31-3:17), Rachav, the Givonites and Yehoshua all recall it in reverent tones in the Book of Yehoshua (2:10, 9:10, 24:8), Yiftach the Judge mentions it as an expression of God's might (Shoftim/Judges 11:20-21), Yirmiyahu the prophet of the First Temple's destruction paraphrases it to predict Moav's imminent fall at the hands of the King of Babylon (Yirmiyahu/Jeremiah 48:40-47), and Nechemia who is active at the end of the Biblical period mentions it to an audience that still remembers (Nechemia 9:22).
The most famous reference of all, however, is that of the Psalmist who sings of the victory over Sichon and Og as part of the Great Song of Thanksgiving preserved in Tehillim 136:19-20:
"He guided His people
through the wilderness, for His mercy endures forever.
He smote great kings, for His mercy endures forever.
He killed mighty kings, for His mercy endures forever.
Sichon King of the Amorites, for His mercy endures forever.
Og King of the Bashan, for His mercy endures forever.
He gave their land as an
inheritance, for His mercy endures forever.
An inheritance for his
servant Israel, for His mercy endures forever.
He remembered us in our
lowliness, for His mercy endures forever.
He redeemed us from our
oppressors, for His mercy endures forever.
He gives food to all flesh, for His mercy endures forever.
Praise the Lord of the Heavens, for His mercy endures forever!"
Sichon and Og in Context
Within the narratives of Parashat Chukat, the battles against Sichon and Og must be understood as the convincing demolition of the attitude of the Spies. Their defeatist stance had been wholeheartedly endorsed by the victors' parents, the generation of the Exodus, in their mistaken belief that they were too weak to ever prevail against the Canaanite armies. The generation nurtured in the wilderness, imbued with trust in God's providence and confidence in His help, are abruptly introduced in this week's Parasha, and just as suddenly and surprisingly prevail against the Amorite Kings.
A Talmudic tradition that on surface reading seems to belong to the genre of the fantastic, captures their astounding transformation: "Og the King of Bashan uprooted a mountain three Persian miles square, lifted it over his head, and prepared to throw it upon the people of Israel. The Holy One blessed be He brought 'kamtze' (ants?) that chewed a hole in it, and the stone instead lodged around his neck. When Og attempted to lift it off of his neck, his teeth were extended in either direction and he was unable to do so!" (Talmud Bavli Berakhot 54a-b). Here we have all of the trappings of a fairytale: an imposing giant, his nefarious scheme, and the unexpected appearance of tiny, seemingly powerless creatures that in the end bring about the titan's utter downfall as his threatening incisors are magically neutralized.
A Closer Reading of the Talmudic Tale
It is the identity of the mysterious 'kamtze' that is most intriguing. This word is often translated as 'ants,' but in proper Aramaic the word actually signifies 'grasshoppers,' the very same creatures whose swarms can decimate fields laden with harvest and reduce them to stubble. In the context of the wilderness narratives, however, the 'grasshopper' has a more innocuous connotation, for it expresses a notion of minuscule insignificance and associated feebleness: "The Spies spoke to the people of Israel disparagingly of the land that they had toured. They said: 'the land that we have traversed is a land that consumes its inhabitants, and all of the people who dwell there are of fantastic proportions. There we saw the primeval giants, the children of Anak of the 'Nefilim.' We were as grasshoppers in our own eyes, and so were we in theirs as well!" (Bamidbar 13:32-33).
In effect, the Talmud's tale relates a much more profound truth. The people of Israel, who as freshly freed slaves had perceived themselves as helpless Lilliputians incapable of exercising will or confronting destiny, were proverbial grasshoppers, just as the Spies had perceptively remarked. Forty years later, however, a new generation was poised to enter the land, to finally slay the proverbial giants that had laid their ancestors low. Og the King of Bashan was not only a colossus in the corporeal sense, but also a looming reminder of the people's earlier insecurities and inability to trust in God's salvation. This time, though, the 'grasshoppers' miraculously prevail, and remarkably ensnare the ominous Amorite king.
Lest there be any doubt concerning this reading, two lines of evidence support it. Firstly, the Aramaic translation of the verse in Bamidbar expressing the Spies' insecurities reads 'We were as grasshoppers in our own eyes' as 'keKimtzin,' the same word as the passage in the Talmudic legend. Secondly, Og is the only Biblical figure described as one of the primeval giants (see Devarim 3:11), just as the Spies had described all of the land's inhabitants, for he is an archetype for their invincibility.
In many ways, then, Parashat Chukat serves as the turning point of Sefer Bamidbar, for in its narratives the people of the Exodus and their leaders pass on, to be substituted by their more resilient and faithful offspring. Israel emerges as a people ready to settle its land, to exercise its national will, and to prevail. How much there is for us to learn from its transformation!
Shabbat Shalom
Chukat | The Striking of the Rock
- Introductory Lessons
Rav Michael Hattin
In memory of Rabbi Aaron M. Wise z"l.
21.09.2014
Introduction
Parashat Chukat opens with the ritual of the Para Aduma, or Red Heifer. According to the proscriptions of the Torah, one who has come in contact with a human corpse is deemed tameh, or ritually unfit to enter the precincts of the Mishkan or the Mikdash. In order to emerge from this state of tum'a, the said individual must first be sprinkled with the Mai Chatat, or Waters of Purification. After its slaughter outside of the camp and the ritual sprinkling of its blood, the body of the red heifer is set alight. As the bonfire burns, cedar wood, hyssop and crimson are added to the flames. The resulting ashes are collected and are then combined with spring water; a bundle of hyssop is dipped into the mixture and, with it, the individual is sprinkled on the third and seventh days. After immersion in a mikva at the conclusion of the rite, the person returns to a state of tahara or ritual fitness, and is again able to enter the Tabernacle or Temple area.
In the very next section, the Torah relates that "the entire congregation of Bnei Yisrael came to the wilderness of Tzin in the first month, and encamped at Kadesh. There, Miriam died and was buried…" (BeMidbar 20:1). As the commentaries point out, at this juncture the Torah begins to narrate events that took place at the conclusion of the period of wandering, which had commenced almost forty years earlier. In fact, the Ibn Ezra (12th century, Spain) points out, the Torah records not a single event or prophecy that occurred in the intervening thirty eight years since the Exodus from Egypt! This remarkable observation highlights the appropriateness of the section concerning the red heifer serving as the transitional narrative, as the Torah proceeds from the account of the generation of the Exodus to the story of their children, who now stand ready to enter the Land.
The Linkage of the Red Heifer
As Rashi explains, the emphatic expression 'the ENTIRE congregation of Bnei Yisrael came to the wilderness of Tzin in the first month' implies that the congregation of which the Torah now speaks was whole and complete, for 'the generation of the wilderness had perished, while this new generation had been separated for life.' In other words, the rite of the red heifer, necessary to effect the change of state of one who has come in contact with the corpse, to allow reentry into the life-giving presence of God, is here presented as the linking passage between the generations. Those who had left Egypt had been condemned to their sad fate and had passed on; their children now stand ready to cast off the 'death' associated with their passing as they solemnly prepare to perpetuate life in the new land that beckons.
The preceding introduction, offering a somber study in contrasts between parents and offspring, dissipated potential and realization, sheds light on the events that follow, which are among the most inscrutable in the Torah. "The congregation did not have water and they gathered against Moshe and Aharon. The people strove with Moshe, exclaiming 'if only we had perished along with our brethren, before God! Why then did you bring God's congregation into this wilderness, to die along with our flocks! Why then did you take us out of Egypt to bring us to this evil place! It is not a place of sowing, nor of figs, grapes or pomegranates, and there is no water to drink!' Moshe and Aharon left their presence to go to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, and fell upon their faces in supplication. God's glory then appeared to them" (BeMidbar 20:1-6). Following a well-worn script rehearsed at every previous occasion of discomfort and deficiency, the people cry out in bitter complaint and bemoan their sorry state. The faded memory of the Egyptian bondage, more attractive with each passing year, is ironically recalled by the people to serve as a source of comfort for their parched condition.
Moshe's Failure
"God spoke to Moshe and said: 'Take the staff and, together with Aharon your brother, gather the people. Speak to the rock in their presence and it will give forth its waters; you shall extract water for them from the rock and provide water for the congregation and its flocks.' Moshe took the staff from before God's presence as he had been commanded. Moshe and Aharon gathered the congregation in front of the rock, and he said to them: 'listen you rebels! Shall we extract water for you from this rock?' Moshe lifted up his hand and struck the rock twice with his staff. The water poured forth from the rock and the congregation and its flocks drank. God spoke to Moshe and Aharon: 'because you did not trust in Me, to sanctify Me in the eyes of Bnei Yisrael, therefore you will not bring this congregation into the land that I have given them.' These were the Waters of Struggle, at which Bnei Yisrael strove with God, and He was sanctified by them" (BeMidbar 20:7-13).
Commanded to speak to the rock, Moshe instead strikes it, and in consequence is denied entry into the very land that he had so desired to see. What is the meaning of this inexplicable series of verses? How are we to understand God's unusual directive to speak to the rock and Moshe's failure to fulfill His words? Is God any less sanctified by a rock that miraculously gives forth water under blows than by one that is addressed? Is there any indication in the text that the people were even aware of God's directive to Moshe, that they should be less impressed by His ability to bring forth water from the rock only after Moshe strikes it? The commentaries have advanced a myriad of explications to address God's command and Moshe's downfall, with Ibn Ezra adducing no less than eight possibilities, and Rashi, Rambam and Ramban advancing more. The plethora of interpretations is a sure sign that the text is too intentionally obscure to furnish us with a definitive answer.
The Precedent at Chorev
Let us take the liberty of offering a different reading, one that is in consonance with the theme of the 'generations' explicated above. Although most readers are familiar only with the account of Moshe striking the rock that our parasha preserves, there is in fact an earlier one that the Torah records in the Book of Shemot. After the people had successfully traversed the sea of Reeds as their Egyptian overlords were swept away by its waters, the people entered the hostile and foreboding wilderness of Shur. There they found no water and cried out, and God sweetened the bitter waters of 'Marah' for their consumption. The people continued on to the wilderness of Seen, entering its vast, inhospitable confines a short and arduous month after their exodus from Egypt.
After securing the provision of miraculous manna to assuage their hunger and to sustain them, the people commenced travel in accordance with God's command and encamped at Refidim, "and there was no water there for the people to drink. The people strove with Moshe saying: 'give us water to drink!' Moshe said to them: 'why do you strive with me, and why do you assay God?' The people thirsted for water and railed against Moshe, saying: 'why did you bring us forth from Egypt, to kill us, our children and our flocks by thirst?' Moshe cried out to God saying: 'what shall I do for this people, for soon they will stone me!' God said to Moshe: 'pass before the people and take the elders of Israel with you. Take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile and go. Behold, My presence is before you there at the rock in Chorev; strike the rock so that water will pour forth, and then the people can drink.' Moshe did so in the presence of the elders of Israel. The place was therefore called 'Masah uMeriva,' for Bnei Yisrael strove with God and tried Him, saying: 'is God in our midst or isn't He?'" (Shemot/Exodus 17:1-7).
Comparisons and Contrasts
The conspicuous parallels with our passage are undeniable. In both cases, the people enter a barren and arid wilderness, bemoan their predicament and threaten to come to blows with Moshe. In both cases, it is a parching thirst that provokes tempers and incites the people to cry out against God. In both cases, the people present the soothing mirage of the sojourn in Egypt as the most attractive alternative to perishing in the wilderness. In both cases, water is miraculously brought forth from adamant rock and the people's thirst is quenched.
There are, of course, three glaring contrasts that separate these two events removed from each other in time by a period of almost forty years. In the first case, Moshe alone is to secure God's beneficent gift of free-flowing water in the presence of the elders of Israel. In our parasha, on the other hand, the miracle is to be done by both Moshe and Aharon in the presence of all of the people of Israel. Even more startling, at Refidim, Moshe is specifically commanded to 'strike the rock,' while at Midbar Tzin he and Aharon are told to 'speak to the rock.' How are we to understand these two episodes that the Torah clearly wants us to correlate? How are we to interpret the fact that the entire experience of the wilderness is effectively bracketed by these two incidents, the former taking place just as the people begin their journey into its unforgiving maw and the latter unfolding as they finally emerge alive from its lethal embrace?
The Symbolism of Rock and Water
The key to unraveling the matter perhaps lies in correctly interpreting the divergent symbology of rock and water. These two primary elements, both lying at the core of the events, are related by a process that transforms one into the other. As the Ramban parenthetically remarks in our parasha, the expression that the rock 'will give forth its waters' implies that the water is to emerge from the essence of the rock itself. It is not to straightforwardly emerge from the ground beneath, after the manner of a concealed underwater spring (commentary to BeMidbar 20:8). Thus, the Torah does not speak of two unrelated substances that share only wildly contrasting properties, but rather of two materials that are inextricably bound up together by the matrix of transformation. In the presence of God's command, the inanimate, unyielding rock, devoid of any natural moisture, is to undergo a metamorphosis and become flowing, life-giving water. What is the significance of this sequence?
In scattered references throughout the Hebrew Bible, the human heart is occasionally compared to the impervious rock. Capable of inattention, indifference, and insensitivity to the word of God, the human heart can become a hardened organ, a vital structure that defines a life of self-centeredness and inability to feel other's pain. Unyielding as rock, hard as adamant stone, the human heart can condone acts of injustice and commit deeds of cruelty that even the most vicious of carnivores could not conjure up. It is not without cause that the brutal Pharaoh's intransigence in the early chapters of the Book of Shemot, the same Pharaoh who could enslave a nation and cast their male offspring into the Nile to die, is characterized by the Torah as possessing 'hardness of heart.' Yet, that same human heart can become softened and sensitive, animated and concerned, full of compassion for the plight of another and touched by the spirit of contrition. The hard and deadened heart can also be a life-giving fountain, a source of vitality and vigor, a wellspring and reservoir of love and benevolence. In the frame of reference of the Torah, it is the word of God alone that has the ability to effect such a profound transformation.
Yechezkel's Vision
When sincerely touched by God's healing message, the human being can marshal the strength necessary to overcome the lethargy and lifelessness of a detached and insensitive heart and to initiate the process of moral and spiritual renewal. Thus, the Prophet Yechezkel who witnessed the moral and spiritual degradation that led to the destruction of the First Temple, looks forward to better days, when God will gather the scattered remnant of His people from the four corners of the globe and bring them to their land. At that time, says God, "I shall sprinkle you with pure water and you shall become pure, pure from all of the defilement of your idolatry and transgressions. I shall give you a new heart and shall place a new spirit within you; I shall remove the heart of stone from your being and give you in its place a heart of flesh. I shall put My spirit within you and shall cause you to follow My statutes and to observe and fulfill My laws. You shall dwell in the land that I gave to your ancestors, and you shall be My people and I shall be your God…" (Yechezkel/Ezekiel 36:24-28). Here again, there is a conscious nexus suggested between the life-giving waters and the heart of stone that is transformed. But how is that heart to be touched?
The Two Models
It seems that the Torah provides us with two possible models for transformation. In the first model, employed at the commencement of the journey into the wilderness, the rock is struck in order to change it into water. There is an element of force and a threat of violence that causes the rock to transform. Moshe hits the rock and, in a sense, it is coerced to provide water. The object rock is treated as a hard and unyielding substance that must be smashed in order to force compliance.
The second model, in contrast, raises another possibility. The rock can be coaxed to give forth water, not by intimidation and overwhelming force, but rather by words of encouragement and inspiration. There is no directive to strike the rock as Moshe stands at Mei Meriva, addressing a generation tempered by the experience of the wilderness, but only the command to speak. "Speak to the rock and it shall give forth its waters…."
As the people left the land of Egypt, broken by centuries of oppression and conditioned by the harsh and brutal language of slavery, they embarked on a journey that was meant to remake them into a 'kingdom of priests and a holy nation.' Their vocabulary at that early stage of their development did not contain profound words of spiritual sophistication, nor were their minds full of sweet visions of ethical refinement, for the dehumanized slave is taught early on to surrender any goals more exalted than self-preservation. At that point, God's directive to transcend bestiality and to overcome insensitivity was perceived as a harsh imposition, as a form of coercion against which the scarcely-freed slaves chafed. For them, the path to transformation, to change hearts of rock into springs of water, had to be accompanied by the blows of scarcity and deficiency, by the experience of a wilderness arid and inhospitable, by a journey across an expanse that held no promise of life-giving waters. God commands Moshe to strike the rock to indicate to the ELDERS that their role will be to initiate the difficult process of the people's change through seemingly harsh acts and threats of punishment. Sadly, the people, here personified by the unyielding rock, are to be objects in the process, for their gross immaturity can allow for no other approach.
But, as we all know, this method is not ideal, nor are its effects long-lasting. Perhaps it is sometimes necessary to shock a hardened heart out of its coarse and unfeeling stupor, but it is no way to raise a person to become sensitive, compassionate or gentle. Thus, as the experience of the wilderness draws to a close, and the new generation stands prepared to take its place in the Land, Moshe is again bidden to drive home the lesson of adamant hearts becoming thinking, feeling hearts that can beat with compassion and spirituality. But this time, no force is to be used on the people, no assault is to be made on their indifference through blows. That same rock, if it is sensitive and open to change, can be made to become water through words, through God's transforming message, and this approach alone carries the hope of effecting real and long lasting change.
Moshe's act of indiscretion, is characterized by the Torah as failing 'to sanctify God' in the eyes of the congregation. It is so called because rather than indicating to the people that they could change through yielding to God's word, Moshe reinforced the message that force alone can ensure compliance with God's Torah. But, as we have seen and as we know, this approach has limited success and never produces meaningful life-long results. Only by opening our minds to hear God's word, by being sensitive to the message of spiritual transformation that the Torah unfailingly affirms, is there the possibility of changing hearts of stone into life-giving springs of water.
Shabbat Shalom
Chukat | Yearning for the Land
- Introductory Lessons
Rav Michael Hattin
21.09.2014
INTRODUCTION
Last week, we read Parashat Korach that detailed the aborted revolt against the leadership of Moshe and Aharon. That episode unfolded in the wake of a lengthy series of failures and setbacks that had plagued the people almost from the moment that they had journeyed forth from Mount Sinai in the direction of the Promised Land. The people's unwarranted bout of complaining (11:1-3) was followed by their insatiable appetite for meat (11:10, 31-35), and Moshe's leadership was sorely tested in the process (11:11-30). Next, Miriam and Aharon spoke ill of their humble brother and the prophetess was temporarily expelled from the camp (12:1-16). The devastating sin of the spies followed (Chapters 13-14), and after a fleeting interlude in which God extended to the people the assurance of a brighter future (Chapter 15), Korach and his cohorts then arose from their midst to destructively fan the flames of revolt.
While throughout all of these episodes the people of Israel pressed forward geographically in their march through the wilderness, there was no sense of progress or of advancement. The dusty and desolate hills hemmed them in, the foreboding and unforgiving landscape consumed them, and in that windswept wasteland they found their end.
Parashat Chukat opens with the mysterious ritual of the Para Aduma, or Red Heifer (Chapter 19). According to the proscriptions of the Torah, one who has come in contact with a human corpse is deemed tameh, or ritually unfit to enter the precincts of the Mishkan or the Mikdash. In order to emerge from this state of tuma, the said individual must first be sprinkled with the Mai Chatat, or Waters of Purification. After its slaughter outside of the camp and the ritual sprinkling of its blood, the body of the red heifer is set alight. As the bonfire burns, cedar wood, hyssop and crimson are added to the flames. The resulting ashes are collected and are then combined with spring water; a bundle of hyssop is dipped into the mixture and, with it, the individual is sprinkled on the third and seventh days. After immersion in a mikva at the conclusion of the rite, the person returns to a state of tahara or ritual fitness, and is again able to enter the Tabernacle or Temple area.
A NEW GENERATION
It is in the very next section that the Torah relates that "the entire congregation of Bnei Yisrael came to the wilderness of Tzin in the first month, and encamped at Kadesh. There, Miriam died and was buried…" (Bemidbar 20:1). As the commentaries point out, at this juncture the Torah abruptly begins to narrate events that took place at the CONCLUSION of the period of wilderness wandering, some thirty eight years after the events of the previous chapter! In fact, as the Ibn Ezra (12th century, Spain) indicates, the Torah records not a single event or prophecy that had occurred in the intervening decades, almost from the time that the people had expectantly marched forth from Sinai until their arrival in the wilderness of Tzin.
Thus, we know a lot about the period associated with the Exodus and the arrival and encampment at Sinai, we know a fair amount about the successful second march towards Canaan that provides the narratives for the latter part of Sefer Bemidbar, but we know almost next to nothing about the intervening period – from the debacle of the Spies until the people's arrival at the wilderness of Tzin – a span of almost four decades. The great majority of the Torah's narratives and commands, the numerous chapters that comprise four of the Five Books of Moses (excepting, of course, Sefer Bereishit), are thus properly compressed into the astonishing time frame of TWO YEARS: the year of the Exodus and the year of the Entry. The intervening period, during which a generation came of age, lived out its useful years and unceremoniously perished, is thus shrouded in utter gloom.
ECHOES OF EARLIER EPISODES
How appropriate, then, that the section concerning the red heifer serves as the transitional narrative, as the Torah seamlessly proceeds from the account of the generation of the Exodus to the story of their children, who now stand ready to enter the Land. As Rashi (11th century, France) explains, the emphatic expression "the ENTIRE congregation of Bnei Yisrael came to the wilderness of Tzin in the first month" implies that the congregation of which the Torah now speaks was whole and complete, for "the generation of the wilderness had perished, while this new generation had been separated for life" (commentary to 20:1). In other words, the rite of the red heifer, necessary to effect the change of state of one who had come in contact with the corpse, to allow reentry into the life-giving presence of God, is here presented as the linking passage between the generations. Those who had left Egypt, condemned to their sad fate in consequence of the sin of the spies, had passed on. Their children now stood ready to cast off the 'death' associated with their passing, solemnly preparing to perpetuate life in the new land that beckoned.
But as we read the account of our Parasha, we come across some narratives that sound painfully familiar, so that on surface reading we may in fact wonder whether a transformation of the people has in fact been effected at all. Though thirty-eight years have passed and the ungrateful generation of the Exodus has expired, their children seem to echo and even to amplify the unappreciative tone of their parents.
The particular episode in question concerns the march towards Canaan, as the people skirt the territory of the hostile king of Edom who had refused to allow them passage through his land:
They journeyed forth from Mount Hor by way of the Sea of Reeds in order to circumvent the land of Edom, but the people's patience wore thin enroute. The people spoke out against the Lord and against Moshe (saying): "Why have you taken us out of the land of Egypt to perish in the wilderness, for there is neither bread nor water and our souls have become disgusted by the insubstantial bread!" God sent forth the stinging serpents against the people and they bit them, so that a great multitude among Israel perished. The people approached Moshe and they said: "We have sinned by speaking against God and you, pray to God so that He might remove the serpents from us!" and Moshe prayed on behalf of the people. God said to Moshe: "Fashion a form of a fiery serpent and place it upon a mast, so that anyone who had been bitten may see it and live". Moshe fashioned a serpent from copper and he placed it upon a mast so that if a man had been bitten by a serpent he would look at the copper serpent and live…(Bemidbar 21:4-9).
Here, we have all of the elements of a typical wilderness moment: the people suffer some real or imaginary discomfort, they cry out bitterly against God and/or hapless Moshe while invoking fond memories of Egypt, the Divine response is immediate, harsh and corrective, and the people then continue on their scornful way until the next calamity.
In fact, our Parasha preserves another example of this pattern, in the very section that had earlier introduced us to this new generation, now poised to enter the Promised Land:
The people of Israel – the entire congregation – came to the wilderness of Tzin in the first month, and the people dwelt in Kadesh. There Miriam died and there she was buried. There was no water for the congregation, so they gathered against Moshe and Aharon. The people strove with Moshe and they said: "If only we had died with our brethren before God! Why have both of you brought the congregation of God to this wilderness to die there, we as well as our cattle? Why have you taken us out of Egypt to bring us to this evil place? This is neither a place of planting, nor of figs, grapes or pomegranates, nor is there any water to drink!" Moshe and Aharon came from before the congregation to the opening of the tent of Meeting and they fell upon their faces, and the glory of God appeared to them…(Bemidbar 20:1-6).
SIMILAR SENTIMENTS
For the purposes of comparison, consider the earlier events of Parashat Behaalotkha and Shelach, the sorry episode of the misplaced desire for meat and then the debacle of the spies. In both situations, the people experienced the distress of the wilderness, became irritated and upset, and lashed out at their leaders and at God. And in both situations, the results for the people were disastrous:
The mixed multitude that was in their midst acquired a desire, and the people of Israel also cried out and said: "Who will feed us meat? We remember the fish that we ate in the land of Egypt for nothing, the squash, the melons, the leeks, the onions and the garlic! But now our soul is dried up, and we have nothing to hope for except the manna!"…The meat was still between their teeth and had not yet dissolved when the wrath of God burned against the people, and God smote them with a very great strike. They therefore called that place the "graves of the desire" for there they buried the people who had desired… (Bemidbar 11: 4-6; 33-34).
The entire congregation lifted up their voices and the people cried that night. All of the people of Israel complained against Moshe and Aharon, and the whole congregation said to them: "If only we had died in the land of Egypt or else in this wilderness, if only we had died! Why does God bring us to this land to die by the sword, so that our wives and children will become spoils, is it not better for us to return to Egypt?!" Each one said to his fellow: "Let us appoint a leader and return to Egypt!"…God said: "they will not see the land that I promised to their ancestors, all those who have incensed Me will not see it!" (Bemidbar 14:1-4; 23).
COMPARISONS AND CONTRASTS
What then is the fundamental difference between these two generations of Israel? Why did the generation raised in the wilderness in the shadow of their parents' destructive lack of trust merit to enter the land, even as their hurtful words and deeds so seem to mirror the earlier crimes? Perhaps the answer is to be found not in a COMPARISON between the episodes, but rather in the CONTRASTS. Note for instance that while the indiscretions near Edom certainly seemed to recall earlier gripes, the Divine rage that followed – in the form of the fiery serpents – elicited an unprecedented response from the people: they admitted their indiscretion and repented! As the Torah narrates: "God sent forth the stinging serpents against the people and they bit them, so that a great multitude among Israel perished. The people approached Moshe and they said: "We have sinned by speaking against God and you, pray to God so that He might remove the serpents from us!" and Moshe prayed on behalf of the people… (Bemidbar 21:6-7). And while there seems to have been an act of repentance after the episode of the spies as well (see Bemidbar 14:40), the hollowness of that gesture quickly became apparent. Though at that time the people mouthed the words "we have sinned," their subsequent deeds made it clear that they were prepared to accept neither the Divine judgment nor Moshe's leadership (Bemidbar 14:41-45). Here, however, Israel approaches Moshe of their own volition, admits their wrongdoing, and then acknowledges Moshe's authority by imploring him to pray on their behalf.
As for the plaint concerning the lack of water, on the surface it resembles earlier events in which the people bemoaned their wilderness trials. But reading the text carefully, we note that the sentiments expressed are not so much about wistful hopes of a departure from the wilderness and a speedy RETURN to Egypt, but rather about their growing impatience with that life of wandering, their mounting anticipation to leave it behind forever and their fervent wish to instead ENTER and to settle the new land. When the people say "Why have you taken us out of the land of Egypt to perish in the wilderness, for there is neither bread nor water and our souls have become disgusted by the insubstantial bread!" they mention their fears of dying in the wilderness like their forebears, who consumed the miraculous manna associated with that place for almost forty years. How much more would they prefer to be already engaged in the productive pursuit of cultivating their own bread on the slopes of Canaan! In other words, when Israel complains about the manna this time around, it is not a spiteful and impulsive desire for more tasty cuisine that motivates them but rather an expectant wish to finally enter the land that God had promised so that they might enjoy more tangible fare.
And when they cry out for water and exclaim "Why have you taken us out of Egypt to bring us to this evil place? This is neither a place of planting, nor of figs, grapes or pomegranates, nor is there any water to drink!," they pointedly refer to the land that they so want to already enter, a place of cultivation and abundant produce, a place of luxuriant fruits. Of course these "figs, grapes and pomegranates" recalls exactly the expedition of the spies so many years earlier, for they too had brought back "a cluster of grapes borne on a pole by two men, as well as pomegranates and figs" (Bemidbar 13:23). What Israel therefore now demands as they enter the wilderness of Tzin is to finally enter the land that the spies had so glowingly described but ultimately rejected! Note that in neither of these situations, do the people state any explicit desire to go back to Egypt and to its imagined luxuries, as was the case in the earlier set of complaints.
In other words, superficial resemblances notwithstanding, Israel has indeed developed and matured over the course of the wilderness wanderings. Aforetimes, the challenge of traversing the wilderness elicited from them only deep-seated dread and a misplaced yearning to return to the oppressive certainties of slavery and servitude. "Let someone else make the decisions!," the people seemed to say, "and may God stop troubling us with His incessant demands that we live consciously and purposefully!" But now, tempered by four decades of having to daily summon forth trust and fortitude, the people of Israel crave to enter the land so that they might finally implement the lessons that they have acquired through so much hard effort. "Enough of this barren landscape" they now cry out, "let us already enter the land so that we might embrace our God-given destiny!" What a transformation indeed.
Shabbat Shalom
The Death of Aharon
Rav Michael Hattin
21.09.2014
INTRODUCTION
Parashat Chukat, midway through Sefer BeMidbar, constitutes the chronological turning point of the Book. The Parasha begins with a lengthy description of the mysterious rites of the Red Heifer, a ceremony that restores a state of Tahara to an individual who has come in contact with corpse Tuma. The Red Heifer is burned along with cedar, hyssop and scarlet, the collected ashes are gathered and combined with spring water, and the mixture is sprinkled upon the petitioner on the third and seventh days. Henceforth, the individual is permitted entry into the sanctified precincts of the Tabernacle and can once again partake of the holy sacrificial meats. Whatever the deeper meaning of this service, it is thematically significant, for it offers closure to the wilderness experience. The generation that left Egypt, condemned to perish for its indiscretions and tainted with the drabness of death, takes its leave in this week's Parasha; with an unexpected suddenness, the generation poised to enter the Promised Land takes its place.
In the fortieth and final year of the wanderings, as the people reach the arid wilderness of Zin, Miriam perishes, soon to be followed by her brother Aharon and eventually Moshe himself. The people of Israel, thirsty and impatient to embrace their new destiny, had cried out for water and relief, and Moshe and Aharon sought God's counsel. These two brothers, who had faithfully led the people since the Exodus, are told by God to speak to the rock so that it might give water to the parched masses, but they impetuously abrogate God's command and strike it. In consequence, they too are doomed to not enter the land of Canaan.
MIRIAM'S DEATH
In essence then, the Parasha describes the completion of the wilderness era, as the entire adult generation of the Exodus, including its illustrious and faithful leaders, passes from the scene. Miriam's death is narrated first, but the Torah offers us scant details about the event:
The people of Israel, all of the congregation, came to the wilderness of Zin, and the people dwelt in Kadesh. Miriam died there and there she was buried. The congregation had no water, and they gathered against Moshe and Aharon…(BeMidbar 20:1-2).
All we know is that her demise takes place during the final year of the wanderings, that at the time the people are located at Kadesh in the wilderness of Zin, and that in the aftermath of her death the people thirst for water. Rabbinic tradition attempted to fill in for some of the obscurity by explaining the linkage between these seemingly disparate elements:
Rabbi Yose bar Yehuda says: The people of Israel had three excellent leaders – Moshe, Aharon and Miriam. Three good gifts were extended to the people of Israel on their behalf – the well, the clouds, and the manna. The well was provided due to the merit of Miriam, the clouds of glory because of Aharon, and the manna on account of Moshe. When Miriam died, the well disappeared, as it says: " The people of Israel, all of the congregation, came to the wilderness of Zin, and the people dwelt in Kadesh. Miriam died there and there she was buried". Immediately afterwards, the text states: "The congregation had no water, and they gathered against Moshe and Aharon…" When Aharon died, the clouds of glory disappeared…when Moshe died, all three were gone… (Talmud Bavli, Tractate Ta'anit 9a).
As Rashi explains, this mysterious well was a "rock from which would issue forth water. It would roll along and accompany the people of Israel (in their wanderings from place to place). It was the very rock that Moshe struck, for it had initially refused to give forth its water on his behalf, since Miriam had died" (commentary to above passage from Tractate Ta'anit 9a). In other words, the Sages drew a connection between the fragments mentioned in the text: during the final year of the wanderings, Miriam died. As a result, the miraculous well dried up and the people became thirsty. But because the well only provided its waters on her behalf, it remained deaf to Moshe's entreaties (as God had commanded him to "speak to the rock" – BeMidbar 20:8), and so he struck it and, in the process, sealed his own fate. By ascribing the well to Miriam's merit, the Sages are indicating the profound impact that she her guidance had on the people of Israel. The life-giving waters that refreshed them during the entire course of their wilderness wanderings were understood by the Sages as metaphors for her inspiring words and deeds, just as surely as Miriam's impassioned song at the Sea of Reeds had lifted their flagging spirits and given them hope (see Shemot 15:20-21).
INTIMATIONS OF MOSHE'S DEATH
While Moshe's actual death is not narrated until the very completion of the Torah (Devarim Chapter 34), his active leadership of the people of Israel is terminates in our Parasha, as his loyal protיgי Yehoshua becomes more and more active in handling the affairs of the people. While Moshe continues to act as the formal leader of the people of Israel until the moment of his death, the transition to new leadership is now well underway. As for the manna – the ongoing and tangible expression of the needed sustenance that only God's laws communicated by Moshe could provide – it does indeed cease falling as soon as the people traverse the river Yarden, just more than a short month after the death of Moshe:
The people of Israel encamped at Gilgal and they celebrated the Pesach on the fourteenth day of the month at evening time in the plains of Yericho. On the morrow, they ate of the produce of the land, matzot and roasted grain, on this very day. The manna ceased on the morrow when they began to eat of the produce of the land, so that the people of Israel no longer had the manna. They therefore at of the new produce of the land of Canaan during that year (Yehoshua 5:10-12).
THE DEATH OF AHARON
It is, though, the death of Aharon that is most intriguing. While yet located at Kadesh, with Moshe and Aharon already condemned to die because of their failure at the waters of Meriva, messengers are sent to the king of Edom requesting passage through his territory. Now the kingdom of Edom was located to the southeast of the Dead Sea and the people of Israel had to traverse that land if they were to go from Kadesh in the southern Negev over to the Transjordan. But the Edomites responded threateningly: "Edom said to them: you shall not pass through me, lest I come out and attack you by the sword…Edom went out to meet them with a powerful force and a strong display. So Edom refused to let Israel pass through his borders, and Israel turned away from his territory" (BeMidbar 20:18-21).
The people therefore journeyed from Kadesh a short distance to Mount Hor (as of yet, unidentified with certainty), and it was there that Aharon was informed of the bitter news:
Moshe said to Moshe and Aharon at Mount Hor, on the border of Edomite territory: Aharon shall be gathered to his people, for he will not enter the land that I have given to the people of Israel, for you both abrogated My words at the waters of Meriva (BeMidbar 20:22-24).
CONTRASTS TO MIRIAM AND MOSHE
But in glaring contrast to Miriam who perished without so much as a mention of any offspring or apprentice taking her place, Aharon's demise is marked by a remarkable description of succession. And in glaring contrast to Moshe who died and was buried while entirely shielded from Israel's saddened eyes, Aharon passes from this world in the full view of the entire congregation of Israel:
"Take Aharon and El'azar his son, and ascend with them to Mount Hor. Remove Aharon's vestments and place them upon El'azar his son, and Aharon will then be gathered and die there". Moshe did just as God commanded, and they ascended Mount Hor in the presence of the entire congregation. Moshe removed Aharon's vestments and placed them upon El'azar his son, and Aharon died there at the summit of the mountain. Then Moshe and El'azar descended from the mountain. All of the congregation saw that Aharon had perished, and the entire house of Israel then mourned for Aharon for a period of thirty days (BeMidbar 20:25-29).
The commentaries are uncharacteristically silent about the significance of this passage, leaving us to speculate as to why Aharon's demise was marked in this way. We may approach the matter from the national as well as from the personal perspective. Recall that last week's Parasha described the aborted rebellion of Korach and his cohorts, who so viciously opposed the appointment of Aharon to the priesthood. Could it be that this week's lengthy description of his succession, carried out according to God's command under the watchful gaze of the entire congregation of Israel, was meant to dispel any lingering doubts among the people concerning Aharon's election and concerning the legacy of the priesthood that was to be passed on to his descendents only? Of course, that would imply the unlikely scenario that some factions in Israel still had reservations about the appointment of Aharon even some forty years after Korach and his band had been so soundly defeated!
THE PERSONAL DIMENSION
Perhaps, then, it is better to consider the matter in accordance with its personal dimension. In other words, what transpires in this passage is not so much for the benefit of the people of Israel as much as for the benefit of Aharon himself. As Rashi (11th century, France) so poignantly describes:
(God said to Moshe to) "take Aharon" meaning with comforting words. Say to him: "Happy are you to see your crown given over to your son, something that I will not merit"…Moshe clothed him with the garments of the high priesthood, and then removed them from him to give them to his son El'azar while he looked on. He said to him: "enter the cave", and he entered. There he saw a bed prepared and a candle lit. He said to him: "ascend to the bed", and he ascended, "straighten your arms", and he straightened them, "close your mouth", and he closed it, "shut your eyes", and he shut them. Moshe immediately desired just such a death for himself…
In essence, Aharon merited to not only have the precious opportunity to survey his life and its accomplishments before leaving them behind forever, but to actively observe his own funeral while he was yet alive! Our passage effectively describes all of the trappings of a well-attended burial processional – loving family, tearful mourners, and a moving if somewhat detached eulogy provided by the narration – except that the "deceased" is not yet gone. Thus, the text stresses that the entire congregation gathered to escort him on his final way, that his beloved brother Moshe who had stood by his side since the time of the Exodus led him as he ascended the mountain for the last time, and that his precious son and successor accompanied him as he prepared to die.
While yet fully cognizant and in possession of all of his faculties, Aharon transferred his illustrious responsibilities, symbolized by the golden and bejeweled vestments of his office, to his own son. The Torah records no final words that Aharon uttered as he left this world behind, but under the circumstances, no words would have been necessary or even appropriate. The entire episode transpires in profound silence as the three take their leave from the people, and the people look on in sadness and in gratitude. No doubt they reach out to touch him as he floats by them led away by some mysterious necessity. His eyes meet theirs and fill with tears, but sad and knowing smiles are simultaneously exchanged.
In narrating the death of Aharon, the Torah seems to be indicating to us the value of conscious living. Aharon dies prepared, but his death is described against the backdrop of his life's mission fulfilled. For almost forty years he has served the people well, occasionally faltering and failing them in the process, but always recovering because he truly has their best interests at heart. He leaves them and reunites with his God not only satisfied with his accomplishments and possessed of the people's love and respect, but also secure in the knowledge that his own son will perpetuate his legacy. These are the real "clouds of glory" that the Sages insist dissipated with Aharon's passing, as he ascended to meet his Maker and to experience the unparalleled glory of His unfiltered presence. Who indeed, to paraphrase Rashi's words, could ask for a more meaningful and "painless" death?
Shabbat Shalom
Overcoming the Divine Silence
Rav Michael Hattin
21.09.2014
INTRODUCTION
Last week, we read Parashat Korach that detailed the aborted revolt against the leadership of Moshe and Aharon. That episode unfolded on the heels of a lengthy series of failures and setbacks that had plagued the people almost from the moment that they had journeyed forth from Mount Sinai in the direction of the Promised Land. The people's unwarranted bout of complaining (11:1-3) was followed by their insatiable appetite for meat (11:10, 31-35), and Moshe's leadership was sorely tested in the process (11:11-30). Next, Miriam and Aharon spoke ill of their humble brother and the prophetess was temporarily expelled from the camp (12:1-16). The devastating sin of the spies followed (Chapters 13-14), and after a fleeting interlude in which God extended to the people the assurance of a brighter future (Chapter 15), Korach and his cohorts then arose from their midst to destructively fan the flames of revolt. While throughout all of these episodes the people of Israel pressed forward geographically in their march through the wilderness, there was no sense of progress or of advancement. The dusty and desolate hills hemmed them in, the foreboding and unforgiving landscape consumed them, and in that windswept wasteland they found their end.
Parashat Chukat opens with the mysterious ritual of the Para Aduma, or Red Heifer (Chapter 19). According to the proscriptions of the Torah, one who has come in contact with a human corpse is deemed tameh, or ritually unfit to enter the precincts of the Mishkan or the Mikdash. In order to emerge from this state of tum'a, the said individual must first be sprinkled with the Mai Chatat, or Waters of Purification. After its slaughter outside of the camp and the ritual sprinkling of its blood, the body of the red heifer is set alight. As the bonfire burns, cedar wood, hyssop and crimson are added to the flames. The resulting ashes are collected and are then combined with spring water; a bundle of hyssop is dipped into the mixture and, with it, the individual is sprinkled on the third and seventh days. After immersion in a mikva at the conclusion of the rite, the person returns to a state of tahara or ritual fitness, and is again able to enter the Tabernacle or Temple area.
It is in the very next section that the Torah relates that "the entire congregation of Bnei Yisrael came to the wilderness of Tzin in the first month, and encamped at Kadesh. There, Miriam died and was buried…" Bemidbar 20:1). As the commentaries point out, at this juncture the Torah abruptly begins to narrate events that took place at the CONCLUSION of the period of wilderness wandering, some thirty eight years after the events of the previous chapter! In fact, as the Ibn Ezra (12th century, Spain) indicates, the Torah records not a single event or prophecy that had occurred in the intervening decades, almost from the time that the people had expectantly marched forth from Sinai until their arrival in the wilderness of Tzin.
THE TRANSITIONAL NARRATIVE
Thus, we know a lot about the period associated with the Exodus and the arrival and encampment at Sinai, we know a fair amount about the successful second march towards Canaan that provides the narratives for the latter part of Sefer Bemidbar, but we know almost next to nothing about the intervening period – from the debacle of the Spies until the people's arrival at the wilderness of Tzin – a span of almost four decades. The great majority of the Torah's narratives and commands, the numerous chapters that comprise four of the Five Books of Moses (excepting, of course, Sefer Bereishit), are thus properly compressed into the astonishing time frame of TWO YEARS: the year of the Exodus and the year of the Entry. The intervening period, during which a generation came of age, lived out its useful years and unceremoniously perished, is thus shrouded in utter gloom.
How appropriate, then, that the section concerning the red heifer serves as the transitional narrative, as the Torah seamlessly proceeds from the account of the generation of the Exodus to the story of their children, who now stand ready to enter the Land. As Rashi explains, the emphatic expression "the ENTIRE congregation of Bnei Yisrael came to the wilderness of Tzin in the first month" implies that the congregation of which the Torah now speaks was whole and complete, for "the generation of the wilderness had perished, while this new generation had been separated for life" (commentary to 20:1). In other words, the rite of the red heifer, necessary to effect the change of state of one who had come in contact with the corpse, to allow reentry into the life-giving presence of God, is here presented as the linking passage between the generations. Those who had left Egypt, condemned to their sad fate in consequence of the sin of the spies, had passed on. Their children now stood ready to cast off the 'death' associated with their passing, solemnly preparing to perpetuate life in the new land that beckoned.
THE LACK OF DIVINE COMMUNICATION
It is, however, astounding that the events of the entire lengthy period from the time of Korach's revolt until the arrival at Midbar Tzin some forty years later are passed over by the Torah in utter and complete silence. According to a Rabbinic interpretation of a passage in Sefer Devarim, this textual silence was matched by a pronounced lack of direct Divine communication as well.
The background to the Rabbis' comments is as follows: In Sefer Devarim, aged Moshe, his life ebbing away, recounts the history of Israel. He remembers well the sending of the Spies, the promise and the disappointment, and God's stern sentence against the people:
None of these men, this evil generation, will live to see the good land that I swore to their ancestors to give them…your young children, whom you said would be taken as spoil, the children who know not yet how to tell good from evil, they will enter it. I will give it to them and they will inherit it…(Devarim 1:35,39).
Moshe then recalls the journey from Kadesh Barne'a whence the Spies had been initially sent, to the brook of Zered at the gateway to Canaan from the east. A distance that could have easily been traversed in a period of days stretched out interminably to become almost forty years. Wistfully, Moshe remarks:
The days that transpired from the time that we journeyed forth from Kadesh Barne'a until we had traversed the Wadi Zered were thirty eight years, until the demise of all of that generation, the adult males of military age, from the midst of the camp, just as God had sworn to them. The hand of God was also against them to destroy them from the midst of the camp until their utter passing. So it was that after all of the men of war had died from the midst of the camp, that God spoke to me saying: "Today you pass by the border of Moav at Ar. You shall come near to Bnei Amon but you must neither harass them nor assail them, for I will not give you any of the land of Bnei Amon as your possession, for I have given it to the descendents of Lot…"(Devarim 2:14-19).
And commenting on the juxtaposition of Moshe's description of that generation's passing with the account of God's communication to him concerning the people's journey at the edge of the land of the Ammonites, the Rabbis declared:
(God told Moshe): Say to them words of rebuke! Namely that "it is only on your account that He speaks with me," for thus have we found that during all of the thirty eight years that the people of Israel were estranged (from God), He did not communicate with Moshe, as the verses state: "So it was that after all of the men of war had died from the midst of the camp, that God spoke to me saying…" (Sifra, Dibura Dindava Section 1:13).
GOD FINALLY SPEAKS
In other words, the Rabbis understood that Moshe's joining together of the account of that generation's death with his report of God's words to him concerning Bnei Amon indicated that God spoke to him only after all of those who had gone forth from Egypt had already perished. It was as if, the Rabbis declared, God deigned to speak to Moshe only on account of the people of Israel: if they were distanced and estranged from Him, then Moshe could not be close. If they were doomed to die, then Moshe too had to experience their grief. Hence the implied rebuke to the people, for though they may have imagined that righteous Moshe's relationship with God was steadfast and secure, little did they realize that it was only on their account that the Deity communicated with him at all!
In a parallel passage from the Talmud Bavli Tractate Ta'anit 30b, Rabba bar bar Channa relates in the name of Rabbi Yochanan that the day of renewed communication became a joyous holiday in ancient Israel – the fifteenth of Av:
Said he: it was the day that those condemned to perish ceased dying, for the master has taught that as long as that generation of the wilderness had not died out, there was no Divine dialogue with Moshe, as the verse states: "So it was that after all of the men of war had died from the midst of the camp, that God spoke to me saying…" (This implies that only now) He spoke to me!
It is true that Rashi there attempts to mitigate the harsh implications of this tradition by remarking that God in fact did speak to Moshe during this period, but without the characteristic singular focus and affectionate tone. He places the emphasis upon the word "me": "So it was that after all of the men of war had died from the midst of the camp, that God spoke to ME saying…" This implies, Rashi remarks, that God may have in fact communicated to Moshe during all of those intervening years, but His words to him lacked the qualities of intimacy and immediacy, what the Torah elsewhere calls a "face to face" communication (see Bemidbar 12:6-8). But the fact remains that the text records very few interactions between the Deity and Moshe during this period.
ANOTHER STRIKING DEFICIENCY – THE MITZVA OF CIRCUMCISION
Significantly, according to a Talmudic tradition preserved in Tractate Yevamot 72a, there were other striking deficiencies during these thirty eight years: while the Torah reports in Sefer Shemot (Chapter 12) that the people of Israel were circumcised on the eve of their departure from Egypt, and Sefer Yehoshua (Chapter 5) indicates that the generation that entered the land fulfilled the rite soon after they traversed the River Yarden, during the intervening four decades of wandering, Israel abrogated the command of circumcision!
Why weren't the people circumcised? It may be because they suffered weakness due to journeying, or it may be because the northern wind did not blow. Thus have we learned: "or all of the years that the people of Israel were in the wilderness, the northern wind did not blow on their account." Why not? It may be because the people were in a state of reproach, or it may be because it would have scattered the Clouds of Glory…
It is not within the scope of our textual investigation to ascertain the scientific basis of this curious tradition. For our purposes, what is significant is to recognize that by ascribing the negation of the rite of circumcision to the rigors of the wilderness wanderings or else to the absence of the "northern wind," the onus for the omission is clearly removed from the people of Israel, and seemingly placed on God. Since the fundamental objective of the wilderness experience was to nurture the people's recognition of their necessity to rely upon God, their travels were conditioned by inexplicable Divine fiat and by no other discernable criterion. When the Cloud of Glory unexpectedly lifted off of the Tabernacle, the people of Israel grudgingly followed, and where it just as abruptly came to rest, there they set up camp until the next round of journey (see Bemidbar 9:15-23). This inherent uncertainty and instability that characterized their nomadic lives therefore made the fulfillment of the commandment of circumcision impossible, lest it lead to endangering the well-being of the newborn children. Alternatively, according to the view that it was the absence of the curative northern wind that made circumcision hazardous, it was God Himself, alone marshaling the forces of nature and bending them to His will, who decided in accordance with His inscrutable wisdom to hold back the therapeutic effects of this directional breeze. Consequently, the people of Israel were denied the opportunity to perform an ancient command that they would have otherwise apparently fulfilled with fervor.
This mysterious "state of reproach" mentioned by Talmud Yevamot in connection with the cessation of the northern wind corresponds exactly to the withholding from Moshe of Divine communication that was mentioned by Talmud Ta'anit. Both traditions correspond to the associated omission from the text of any significant narrative from this lengthy period.
ASSEMBLING THE ELEMENTS
Earlier, we noted that as long as the people of Israel were in the wilderness, God addressed Moshe in a tone that lacked tenderness and warmth. Now, we have also learned that during this very same period, they did not observe the command of circumcision. What is most remarkable, though, is the realization that these are the very same thirty-eight years that the Torah highlights by its deafening silence. Recall that the vast majority of the Torah's narrative events and commands are associated with either the first year after the Exodus or the final year before the Entry. In other words, the intervening vacuum of thirty-eight years constitutes the futile and fruitless lifespan of a generation that was condemned to die, ultimately perishing in a bleak and austere wilderness that quite literally swallows them up without even a textual trace. And what is the singular event that triggers this tragic and fatal chain? It is the sending of the Spies!
TURNING THEIR BACKS ON CANAAN
In essence, then, we may follow the course of events as follows: when the people of Israel portentously turn their backs on the land of Canaan, notwithstanding God's longstanding oath to secure it for them, they suffer in turn His harsh reprimand. Of course, there is the EXPLICIT statement of His displeasure and disappointment: that generation will surely perish! But what is even more painful is the subtle but stark realization by the people that there will be no clemency for their indiscretion, no moderation of their sentence, and no hope for pardon. God's oath of a bountiful land will instead be fulfilled to their children, who will be nurtured on the steadfast trust that only the experience of the wilderness can provide.
In the meantime, then, God words to Moshe are curtailed, His expressions of affection and love now replaced by stony silence. Likewise, the 'northern wind' ceases to blow, its healing breezes desist and die away, and in their place uncomfortably hovers the stale and suffocating feeling of God's distance and utter remoteness. To their dismay, the people of Israel realize that what yesterday was palpably within reach is today unachievable. Turning to the sole remaining comfort of God's guiding laws, they soon become aware that one of the most solemn and meaningful of their national rituals can no longer be performed without great and intolerable danger: the command of circumcision. The mark that had set them apart on the eve of their national awakening as they prepared to leave Egypt, the ancient expression of their national identity and God's perpetual covenant, THE SIGN THAT HAD BEEN TRANSMITTED TO THEIR FOREFATHER AVRAHAM AS GOD LOVINGLY EXTENDED TO HIM THE ETERNAL PROMISE OF THE LAND OF CANAAN, was now, like the precious earth that beckoned sadly from beyond the sands of the Sinai, past their grasp forever.
While the narrow and formal mitzva act of circumcision clearly devolves upon individuals and is completely independent of any actual geographic link to Canaan, its ideal conceptual fulfillment nevertheless implies a national identity and its corollary of an autonomous existence in a homeland. Therefore, when the people of Israel readied themselves to leave Egypt by transcending their individuality to forge a national identity, it necessarily followed that they had to perform circumcision, although they had neglected the command for some time. With bodies marked with the seal of God's covenant, and minds seared with its eternal promise, they ventured forth to secure the land and the mission that He swore to their ancestor Avraham.
But when the Spies (and the people of Israel in turn) rejected that future by loudly and vociferously declining God's gift of Canaan, it necessarily followed that His denial of their entry into the land would be accompanied by the onset of circumstances that would render the command of circumcision incapable of being fulfilled. Could it be that the people angrily rebuffed the "land flowing with milk and honey," first promised to their forebear and sealed by solemn oath, but yet continue to observe the ancient rite of circumcision, a command that so fundamentally depends upon an awareness of their national mission and the organic and historic connection of that mission to the soil of Canaan?
God, in His mercy, spared them the unbearable pain of explicitly renouncing their offers of fulfillment. Instead, He precipitated conditions that would make circumcision impossible. Thus, the north wind ceased to blow, Moshe's prophecies were brusquely bestowed, and the people of Israel entered the gaping jaws of a wilderness that would swallow up any memory of their lives. The linkage of the events is anything but arbitrary, for all of them together delineate the people's anguished "state of reproach" and poignantly describe the distress of Israel's transitory estrangement both from God as well as from Canaan's fertile expanse. However, all hope was not lost, for the children of that generation would yet grow to maturity and merit to graciously accept the gift of the land.
CONCLUSION
As the people near the Promised Land, now skirting the territory of their long-lost kin, the Divine dialogue with Moshe is suddenly renewed. God reassuringly speaks to him and the people realize that the curse of the wilderness is finally lifting. This time, their march towards the land will be successful, and though they soon learn that beloved Moshe will remain behind, they are nevertheless consoled by God's renewed interest in their fate. In the end, able Yehoshua will take the place of his mentor, and Israel will cross over the Yarden and encamp at Gilgal. There, they will complete their journey by once again practicing the command of circumcision:
At that time, God said to Yehoshua: "make blades of flint and circumcise the people of Israel on a second occasion". Yehoshua made blades of flint and circumcised the people of Israel at the 'Hill of Foreskins.' This is the matter concerning the circumcision performed by Yehoshua. All of the people who had left Egypt, the males of military age, had perished in the wilderness on the journey after having left Egypt. All those who had left (Egypt) were circumcised, but all those who had been born in the wilderness while traveling, after the Exodus from Egypt, were not. For forty years the people of Israel trekked through the wilderness, until those adults of military age who had left Egypt and had not hearkened to God's voice perished. God had sworn to them that He would not show them the land that He had sworn to their ancestors to give us, a land flowing with milk and honey. Their children who became established in their place were therefore circumcised by Yehoshua…God said: "on this day I have rolled off the shame of Egypt," therefore they called that place Gilgal until this very day (Yehoshua 5:2-9).
Shabbat Shalom
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