Parshat Hukkat: Parah Adumah – the spiritual big bang. And Moshe strikes out

The purification ritual known as Parah Adumah, using the ashes of a red heifer, is considered the Torah’s greatest mystery. No explanation is given, nor is there any inherent logic to this exotic ceremony. Especially bizarre is the fact that contact with the ashes of the Red Heifer “purifies the defiled, and defiles the pure” (מטהר טמאים ומטמא טהורים), ie. the individual Jew or resident alien (Bamidbar/Numbers 19:10) who is tam’ei – ritually impure – is purified in this process, while the kohen who administers the ritual becomes thereby tam’ei himself, albeit of a less intense nature.

I am as confounded by this mystery as anyone, and have no intention here of offering a key to its understanding. Yet there are some questions – rhetorical perhaps – and textual hints that may offer a better window into the nature of Parah Adumah.

I would like to suggest that prior to the introduction of the Red Heifer, the Israelites were not in a state of tum’ah. They were neither tahor (ritually pure) nor tamei (ritually impure). After all, who among them had not previously had contact or been in the presence of a corpse – kohanim included? And if such contact would have rendered them tam’ei then who purified the first kohen so that he, in turn, could purify others?

Can it be – and I am suggesting this is the case – that the Israelites first became susceptible to ritual impurity with the introduction of the first Red Heifer? That prior to the Parah Adumah the Israelites were in a state of ritual pre-birth – neither tahor nor tam’ei – very much alive yet not yet finished with their spiritual gestation?

וְיִקְח֣וּ אֵלֶ֩יךָ֩ פָרָ֨ה אֲדֻמָּ֜ה תְּמִימָ֗ה אֲשֶׁ֤ר אֵֽין־בָּהּ֙ מ֔וּם אֲשֶׁ֛ר לֹֽא־עָלָ֥ה עָלֶ֖יהָ עֹֽל
“And they shall take unto you a red (adumah) heifer, perfect (temimah), which has no blemish, upon which no yoke has ever been placed”
(Numbers 19:2)

What other creature is red, perfect (as in temimah which also means innocent), and upon which no yoke (indeed no physical, psychological, emotional or spiritual trauma) has been inflicted? Is this not the perfect description of a newborn child – red, pure/innocent, not yet violated by the mundane?

Would it then not make perfect sense that the red heifer becomes a proxy for the nation of Israel, a nation which is being ritually born at this very moment, and thereby undergoing the transformation from pre-tahor/tam’ei to a state of tahor? That only now, do all prior contacts with the ritually impure become irrelevant as the Israelites enter en masse (for at least this brief moment) into a state of tahor, or absolute ritual purity?

Otherwise how else to explain verse 9:

וְאָסַ֣ף | אִ֣ישׁ טָה֗וֹר אֵ֚ת אֵ֣פֶר הַפָּרָ֔ה וְהִנִּ֛יחַ מִח֥וּץ לַמַּֽחֲנֶ֖ה בְּמָק֣וֹם טָה֑וֹר וְ֠הָֽיְתָ֠ה לַֽעֲדַ֨ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֧ל לְמִשְׁמֶ֛רֶת לְמֵ֥י נִדָּ֖ה חַטָּ֥את הִֽוא:
“And a tahor man shall gather the ashes of the heifer and place it outside the camp in a pure place”?

Where would such a pure man be found if everyone would have been a priori tam’ei because of prior exposure to the dead?

So what we have here, it seems, is the moment of spiritual birth for the Israelite nation. The physical birth began with the Exodus and continued into Sinai. But the spiritual birth takes place here in Parsha Hukkat with the transference of purity to the entire nation via the proxy of the red heifer. The people find that they are now, for the first time, tahor pure. After this reality sets in, and the remedy for future impurity to come is thereby made available.

… AND MOSHE STRIKES OUT 

Even Moshe was human. And thank God for that. Because we have only one God, and heaven forefend that we deify flesh and blood.

What is it that makes us human?  For one thing we humans all make mistakes.  And the Torah is unsparing when it comes to cataloguing the errors, crimes and misdemeanors of our greats.  Indeed, it is this that shows how great they were – human beings, capable of peccadillos small and large, transcending their human condition to accomplish nearly superhuman feats.

What else makes us human?  The fact that we age.  And with the onset of old age not only does our energy ebb, but often our patience and our capacity to judge situations clearly.  Indeed, in our advanced years we earn the right to evaporate from center stage, and are obligated to pass the baton on to a new generation of leaders who are neither exhausted mentally and physically, nor rigidly rooted in ways and means that are no longer suited to contemporary needs.

In Devarim/Deuteronomy 34:7 we are told

וּמֹשֶׁ֗ה בֶּן־מֵאָ֧ה וְעֶשְׂרִ֛ים שָׁנָ֖ה בְּמֹת֑וֹ לֹא־כָהֲתָ֥ה עֵינ֖וֹ וְלֹא־נָ֥ס לֵחֹֽה
Moses was 120 years old when he died, his eyes were not dim nor his strength weakened.

Yet, while this is declared regarding his physical condition, the Torah paints a somewhat different picture regarding Moshe’s temperament in old age.

Parshat Hukkat tells the story of Moshe smiting the rock. For this ‘crime’, both he and Aharon are punished by being denied permission to lead the Children of Israel into the Land of Israel.

Following the death and burial of Miriam, the Children of Israel once again rise up against their leaders Moses and Aaron.

וְלֹא־הָ֥יָה מַ֖יִם לָעֵדָ֑ה וַיִּקָּ֣הֲל֔וּ עַל־מֹשֶׁ֖ה וְעַֽל־אַהֲרֹֽן
And there was no water for the community, and they gathered against Moshe and Aharon.
(Numbers 20:2)

As Yogi Berra would say; “déjà vu all over again”.

Only this time the mob expresses itself far more spiritually, as this takes place toward the end of their sojourn in the wilderness, long after the Exodus from Egypt.

Now they refer to themselves as קהל ה’ — the congregation of the Lord” (20:4). Progress indeed.

God instructs Moshe:

קַ֣ח אֶת־הַמַּטֶּ֗ה וְהַקְהֵ֤ל אֶת־הָעֵדָה֙ אַתָּה֙ וְאַהֲרֹ֣ן אָחִ֔יךָ וְדִבַּרְתֶּ֧ם אֶל־הַסֶּ֛לַע לְעֵינֵיהֶ֖ם וְנָתַ֣ן מֵימָ֑יו וְהוֹצֵאתָ֨ לָהֶ֥ם מַ֙יִם֙ מִן־הַסֶּ֔לַע וְהִשְׁקִיתָ֥ אֶת־הָעֵדָ֖ה וְאֶת־בְּעִירָֽם׃ וַיִּקַּ֥ח מֹשֶׁ֛ה אֶת־הַמַּטֶּ֖ה מִלִּפְנֵ֣י יְהֹוָ֑ה כַּאֲשֶׁ֖ר צִוָּֽהוּ׃
Take your rod and gather the community, you and your brother Aharon, and the two of you should speak to the rock before their eyes, and it will give of its water… And Moshe took the rod from before God as he had commanded him.
(20:8-9).

But now Moshe cracks, and begins to show his true feelings:

וַיַּקְהִ֜לוּ מֹשֶׁ֧ה וְאַהֲרֹ֛ן אֶת־הַקָּהָ֖ל אֶל־פְּנֵ֣י הַסָּ֑לַע וַיֹּ֣אמֶר לָהֶ֗ם שִׁמְעוּ־נָא֙ הַמֹּרִ֔ים הֲמִן־הַסֶּ֣לַע הַזֶּ֔ה נוֹצִ֥יא לָכֶ֖ם מָֽיִם
And Moshe and Aharon gathered the congregation at the face of the rock and said unto them; ‘Listen all your rebels, shall we bring forth for you water from this rock?
(20:10).

Moshe is going beyond what he was authorized to do.  He resorts to name-calling as he sarcastically vents his rage at the assembled people.

וַיָּ֨רֶם מֹשֶׁ֜ה אֶת־יָד֗וֹ וַיַּ֧ךְ אֶת־הַסֶּ֛לַע בְּמַטֵּ֖הוּ פַּעֲמָ֑יִם וַיֵּצְאוּ֙ מַ֣יִם רַבִּ֔ים וַתֵּ֥שְׁתְּ הָעֵדָ֖ה וּבְעִירָֽם
And Moshe raised his hand and with his rod and he struck the rock twice, and much water came forth, and the community and its cattle drank.
(20:11)

Interestingly, the text goes into the detail of Moshe “raising his hand” an act that is intended to humiliate even before it causes injury.

And for this seemingly minor violation, both Moshe and Aharon are punished by God: 

יַ֚עַן לֹא־הֶאֱמַנְתֶּ֣ם בִּ֔י לְהַ֨קְדִּישֵׁ֔נִי לְעֵינֵ֖י בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל לָכֵ֗ן לֹ֤א תָבִ֙יאוּ֙ אֶת־הַקָּהָ֣ל הַזֶּ֔ה אֶל־הָאָ֖רֶץ אֲשֶׁר־נָתַ֥תִּי לָהֶֽם׃
… because you did not believe in Me, to sanctify me in the eyes of the Children of Israel, therefore you will not bring this congregation into the land which I have given them. (20:12).

Such draconian punishment; denying Moshe and Aharon the right to lead a victorious Israel into the Promised Land — for what? For having struck the rock instead of speaking to it.

Conventional wisdom tells us that small infractions are greatly magnified when made by great people. And this sounds pretty clever, yet it is hardly convincing.  If the Lord exacts such retribution from his most loyal servants, surely we ordinary mortals can only despair.

Clearly the decision to prevent Moshe and Aharon from entering Eretz Israel is not simply a punishment.  It is, if you will, an executive decision based on the fact that these two aged leaders are no longer qualified to lead – certainly to lead the conquest and settlement of the Land of Israel.

But what was it they did that made God decide it was time for them to go?

Was it the fact that Moshe struck the rock?

No.

It was the fact that he struck the rock twice – and both times in a manner meant to humiliate rather than injure – and insult is infinitely worse than injury.

After all, who was Moshe hitting?  It wasn’t the rock. It was the Children of Israel.  The rock was merely their proxy. Moshe was slapping the Jewish People in the face. And this is inexcusable on the part of a leader.

Yes, it happens that a teacher strikes his pupil in the heat of momentary rage and frustration.  This is inexcusable, but can be rectified with an apology on the teacher’s part. Indeed after a single slap, such an apology proves not only that the teacher is human but that he can correct himself.

But what often happens when a teacher loses his temper and resorts to physical humiliation? The child, rather than give him the satisfaction of breaking down in tears just stands there smarting. Now the teacher really takes offense, and strikes the child yet again.  With this second slap the child is lost forever.  He will never be able to respect, let alone revere, that teacher.

Fear? Perhaps. Respect? Never! And it is likely this child has just lost all love and respect for Torah. This child has become a write-off to the Jewish People.

When Moshe slapped the Israelites by way of the rock, he should have stopped and apologized.  And if he didn’t do this of his own accord, his brother Aharon should have stayed his hand and brought him back to his senses. Indeed Aharon, the “lover of peace and the pursuer of peace” (אוהב שלום ורודף שלום) should have calmed Moshe down when he first spoke disparagingly to the Children of Israel.

Yet, neither brother rose to the occasion.  A second strike ensued, and from that moment on the Children of Israel could no longer recognized Moshe as their leader.  The damage could not be undone. Hence God finds it necessary to conclude the lives of both Moshe and Aharon in the wilderness.

Later on, in Devarim/Deuteronomy, we see ample evidence that Moshe has slipped precipitously into the cantankerousness that often accompanies old age.  He oscillates between singing his People’s praises and blaming them for all his misfortunes.

In Parshat Shelah, the story of the meraglim/spies is recorded in a crisp narrative. God orders a reconnaissance mission that ultimately turns sour.  In Devarim/Deuteronomy, however, we will see Moshe blaming it all on the Children of Israel. He is incapable of seeing his own faults and recognizing his own role in these events. He is bitter, and he revises history in order to justify his bitterness.

The lesson to us is clear.  Age alone does not qualify one for leadership.  And, indeed, age can often be the best reason to abdicate leadership. Yet we now live in a time when the single overriding criteria for ‘greatness’ in traditional Jewish society is seniority.  If a rabbi reaches the age of 99 or 103 he becomes ipso facto infallible even if he is incoherent, unavailable, detached from reality.  He becomes surrounded by self-serving panderers who put words into his mouth, and issue proclamations and dicta in his name that are questionable at best, and destructive at worst.

God decides to sideline Moshe and Aharon, not as a punishment but primarily because the time had come, and they show no signs of voluntary retirement.  Were they to enter the Promised Land, the Children of Israel would be effectively leaderless. Predators would attach themselves to these anachronisms and make a huge mess.

We are all human. And there comes a time when we just have to let go.