A Matter of Trust- Vayakhel/Shabbat Parah 5785

Of all the 613 mitzvot, the ritual of the parah adumah, the red heifer, is the example par excellence of a mitzvah whose reasoning remains unclear. We’re to perform this ritual when someone comes in contact with tumat meyt– the impurity conveyed when one touches a corpse- but the reasoning behind it is mysterious. But why do we do it? The rabbis say, in so many words, “because it’s there and it says so”. It is, as the old Billy Joel song goes, “a matter of trust”. 

Why do we read this passage today? It’s found at the start of parshat Chukkat in the middle of the book of Numbers, not in the book of Exodus which we’ll be completing next week. As you might have guessed, it has to do with Pesach. We’re now three weeks out (!), and Shabbat Parah always occurs the week before Shabbat HaChodesh which is right before the start of the month of Nissan. In the days of the Temple, the priest would use the ashes of the red heifer to purify people who were in a ritually impure state, which would have prevented them from being eligible to eat the Pesach sacrifice.

How is this ritual performed? The whole procedure, from beginning to end, lasts seven days. As the Jewish Study Bible explains:

“…the affected person or object is sprinkled on the third and seventh day with a prepared mixture of fresh water and the ashes of a red cow, cedar wood, hyssop plant, and red dye. [Working] essentially on the principle of sympathetic magic, the red-colored ash mixture absorbs the corpse pollution” and acts as a kind of ritual detergent which on the seventh day renders the person or object pure. 

Paradoxically, while the person who undergoes the ritual moves from a state of impurity to purity, the priest who administers the ritual and touches the ashes themselves is then rendered impure, and has to undergo a separate purification ritual.

The Tosafot, the medieval commentators on the Talmud, in tractate Avodah Zarah compares in striking language the ritual of the red heifer to a lover’s kiss- it can’t be explained, but can only be experienced. Think about that for a moment; you can explain the mechanics of the action, but the feelings that it elicits can only be known through doing it yourself.

Moving between states of purity and impurity are part of life’s rhythms. As we learn in the book of Leviticus, our human physiology for both females and males makes us susceptible to different types of temporary impurity which can be dealt with. However, the ritual of the red heifer is in the realm of life and death. Ritually speaking, there is no greater state of impurity than that brought about by coming in contact with death. Many kohanim today in some communities observe the custom of not entering a cemetery except upon the death of their parents, for whom they are obligated to do this. 

On the other hand, many hold that certain categories of purity and impurity are currently moot because the Beit HaMikdash is no longer standing, and ergo we are all considered to be in a permanent state of impurity.

The cleansing nature of the parah adumah relies on the trust of the person undergoing it. It’s not as simple as immersing in a mikveh, which is the traditional way of dealing with impurity and, I would argue, is more experiential and physically cleansing. It’s this trust, furthermore, that serves to build relationships between the Israelites and foster community. This is brought to the fore in light of the approach of Passover, which is the only time of the year when every Israelite household was obligated to bring a sacrifice and partake in eating it. 

G-d asks the Israelites to put their full faith and trust in Them throughout the Torah, but we know that humans repeatedly withdraw that trust. G-d trusts the first humans in the Garden of Eden to not eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, yet we do. G-d trusts us not to go out to gather manna on Shabbat after crossing the Red Sea, yet we do. At the revelation at Mount Sinai the Israelites say “na’aseh v’nishmah”- “we will do and we will hear”- when asked if they’ll keep the commandments, but quickly build the Golden Calf. 

And yet, part of the evolution of the Israelites in the book of Exodus is learning to develop that trust that is essential to their relationship with the Divine. In parshat Vayakhel, which we read today, it seems that this trust is growing. The Israelites engage in the communal work of building the mishkan, the portable tabernacle, and they don’t yet know just how to use it. That question- how to commune with the Divine- is one of the central questions of Leviticus. At this point, the Israelites set about a task that they trust will lead to greater divine connection.

Rabbi Haim Ovadiah writes: “We read the description of the red heifer’s ritual – Parashat Parah, before the month of Nissan, with which arrive Passover and the story of the Exodus, to remind us that we want to be redeemed, that the world is imperfect and we can make it better. However, whereas the Exodus was brought about miraculously, this time it is up to us. We should cure ourselves from our spiritual impurity of despair and apathy, and start our journey, our pilgrimage to redemption, by embarking on a path of positive actions, loving ourselves and extending love to others.”

I echo Rabbi Ovadiah’s sentiments- it is up to us. Performing mitzvot and honoring the best in each other is our own “ritual detergent”- all the more so in this uncertain time. When we shake off the impure malaise and despair with which the world can taint us, we prepare ourselves to be our best selves, armed with the trust that G-d finds our actions to be worthy. As we gear up for Pesach together in the coming weeks, let’s lean into that trust so that we may enter into Passover, the season of our freedom, with pure hearts and in good spirits.