and thoughts…
chukat
parasha chukat, numbers chapters 19—22
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Chukat
statute
The mitzvah of Parah Adumah, the Red Heifer.
The opening verses of this parasha focus on the mitzvah of the red heifer.
This is a point for study and conjecture. While we do not have a temple, this mitzvah cannot be executed. Which is happy news for the cow, who I’m sure would rather not be executed. Some believe that when the Third Temple is built the mitzvah of the sacrifices will be resumed. Others believe that this practice was one that held meaning for people of antiquity and is not relevant, or desired by God, in modern times. With all this said, since the time the Torah was written only 9 cows have existed that met the criteria for being used in this way. So it seems that Old Bessie is safe, at least for now.
Coming in contact with a corpse results in spiritual impurity. Fortunately, we’re given an avenue by which we can once again become spiritually pure. There’s a ritual through which we can be cleansed.
Exactly what does this ritual entail? It’s pretty straight forward. A red cow, 100% red, is slaughtered outside the camp. The kohen (priest) takes her blood with his finger and sprinkles it towards the Tent of Meeting seven times. Her body, in its entirety, including her dung, is then burned with cedar, hyssop, and red wool. Finally, her ashes are collected and used to prepare a magical cleansing water that will be used in an elaborate and lengthy purification ceremony.
After this week-long ritual is complete, you are at last, done. Finished. Fertig! You’re purified.
At worst, this sounds like a horrific way to treat an animal. At best, it seems utterly ridiculous.
I will tell you this: I’ve learned enough over the years to know that there’s a great deal I don’t know. I think that I have a pretty good understanding of the “way it all works”—enough of an understanding to know that there’s so much I don’t understand—and I have the sense to know that, just because something makes no sense to me, it doesn’t mean that it makes no sense. It just means that it’s beyond me at this time. And, side note…King Solomon, the wisest person who ever lived, is said to have claimed that this is the only mitzvah he didn’t understand.
The reasonings behind many of the mitzvot are patently obvious—don’t steal, don’t murder, don’t have sex with your grandchildren … They barely merit discussion. Even atheists are on board with them. These form the basic structure of a society. Without tacit agreement by the whole community, society would crumble pretty quickly.
Others are a matter of kindness and decency. Don’t embarrass other people. Don’t gossip, Visit the sick. Comfort those in mourning. In other words, be a nice person. These also make sense.
Some are less obvious, such as the commandment to observe Shabbat. Fail to keep Shabbat and the world will keep on turning. Clearly, only those who choose to adhere to Jewish law are going to keep this one. But, keep it or not, it’s still logical and it can be rationally explained.
Then there are other mitzvot, mitzvot that are considered to be supra-rational, beyond rational, which is a nice way of saying that they make no sense. The Red Heifer is one of these. While we’re encouraged to meditate upon them and to search for understanding, the bottom line is that we’re expected to keep them as scrupulously as we do those that are easier to comprehend. It’s explained that, had we the wisdom to see the world through the “eyes” of its creator, we’d understand.
Fortunately for us, our greatest mystics and sages have spent much time and energy studying and discussing this mitzvah, and we get to benefit from their insights.
There’s a fascinating article in the OU Torah website that goes into Rashi’s comments on this mitzvah in depth. It looks at how we might relate to it in terms of our own internal dialogue, and also looks at how the effect of our keeping such laws influences the non-Jewish world in their opinions about us and about the validity of the Torah itself. If you like mental calisthenics and philosophical meanderings, I highly recommend checking it out—it’s too deep for me to distill in this post.
For a more mystical approach, we can turn to the writings of the great Kabbalist, Rabbi Shimon bar Yocahi (known as the Rashbi). He explains the significance of each of the ingredients of this magical purifying potion. You can learn more about this extraordinary mystical giant here, in the Jewish Virtual Library. It’s worth the short read, both for the sake of historical knowledge and for an introduction into the deep mysteries that he taught.
But here at the Twisted Challah, we’re just trying to decide what to make for dinner… wink, wink…
And now that we’re armed with the knowledge of how to purify ourselves after coming into contact with the dead, we can move on through the reading.
The overarching theme of this parasha is one of tremendous sadness and loss.
First Miriam dies.
Then Aharon dies.
And between these two events that rocked the community comes the incident of Moshe and the rock.
Put yourself in Moshe’s sandals. I have to feel sorry for the guy. He’s just lost his beloved sister. He’s grieving. And still the Israelites continue to whine.
What are they bitching about now?
Water!
Miriam is gone, and so is her well.
It seems to me that Moshe’s pain over Miriam’s death was a likely factor in his momentary outburst.
I think most of us would hope we’d be given a pass for lashing out when we’re suffering a great sadness. Most of us would make allowances for someone in that situation. But Moshe is given no such pass. He’s being held to a higher standard than the rest of us.
It’s the old “the greater the power, the greater the responsibility” adage.
Moshe turned to God with the people’s complaint about the lack of water. God responded by telling Moshe to stand before the entire congregation, raise his staff, and speak to a particular rock. God tells Moshe that, when he does so, the rock will bring forth water, thereby sanctifying God’s Name.
But Moshe’s emotions are running high and he’s angry.
Instead of speaking nicely to the rock and letting God bring forth yet another miracle for these undeserving people, Moses lashed out and struck the rock with his staff. The water gushed forth, but there was no sanctification of God’s Name. What the people saw was the illusion that the water was brought forth by Moshe. They saw the water pouring from the rock because of Moshe’s fury.
And God tells Moshe that he will not live to enter the land that has been his greatest hope for all these years.
A momentary impulsive, thoughtless action committed in anger, even righteous anger, can change the course of a life.
Not too long after, Aharon dies.
None of the three children of Yocheved and Aram will set foot in Eretz Yisrael. Aharon, Miriam and Moshe devoted their lives to God and to these people, leading them out of slavery and keeping them safe on their perilous journey towards freedom, according to the word of God. And when the Israelites are finally standing in the Promised Land, these giants will not be among them.
I can imagine the sense of utter desolation, knowing that your greatest dreams and aspirations for your life will never come to pass. Knowing that the story won’t end with you living happily ever after. Knowing that God has said, “No.”
There are other events that take place in the parasha—more complaining, more sin and forgiveness, a copper snake, and more confrontations with other nations. Moshe still manages to keep himself together and continue to lead, even with the crushing emotions of his heart and soul.
The reading wraps up with the message that a single act of bullying or of being nasty can come back to bite you, years later.
Edom refuses to allow the Israelites to pass unmolested through their lands, and the people are forced to take a circuitous route. Ultimately, that’s the reason for the Edomites’ obliteration in future times.
Every choice we make, whether carefully thought through or done flippantly, matters.
The physical laws of cause and effect tell us that no action taken and no word spoken goes unnoticed. For good or for evil, the universe seeks equilibrium and it will have its due.
So, what shall we eat?
Cedar, hyssop, and red wool … can this be dinner?
I can’t promise you that a cedar plank of beets, carrots, mushrooms, and other vegetables, seasoned with za’atar (a spice blend that includes hyssop) and oven-roasted, will have magical powers, but I can promise that it will make a beautiful and impressive entrée for Shabbat. The smoky aroma and flavor imparted by the cedar makes simple vegetables truly special.
Chances are, when you think of cedar planked food, what comes to mind is grilling salmon. But, there are lots of things you can cook on a cedar plank. Cooking and serving food on a cedar plank is not only elegant and fun, it also adds a fabulous flavor to whatever is perched upon it.
Unfortunately, grilling isn’t a convenient way to prepare Shabbat dinner—a meal that requires having the cooking done in advance.
But don’t despair! while grilling is lovely, you can prepare a beautiful cedar planked dinner right in your home oven. And since everything is done in advance, it’s perfect for Shabbat. I’m going to serve them with a warm beluga lentil pilaf. It will be hearty enough to be the main event at a special dinner and will contain all the nutrients you need for a well thought out vegetarian meal. That said, you can add a portion of thickly sliced salmon fillet to each plank if you’d like. If your market doesn’t sell cedar planks for grilling, you can find them here. I would hesitate to buy them at a hardware store, because the wood may be treated chemically and not be food-safe.
We’ll start the meal with a creamy potato soup enhanced with some edam cheese (Edom … edam … I know it’s a stretch … ) and finished with a sprinkling of black lava salt—because we don’t find the idea of eating actual ashes very appealing. Follow the recipe for my Perfect Potato Leek Soup and finish each bowl with some finely shredded edam cheese and a sprinkling of black lava salt. Remember—when adding salt while making the soup bear in mind that you’ll be adding this salt at the end!
And for dessert—It just so happens that this Shabbat falls on July 4th this year. I can’t resist filling our bellies with this amazing American Flag Cake. It comes to the table as a layer cake frosted with whipped cream and finished with rings of strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries on the top. It looks festive for Independence Day. But the ooohs and aaahs come when you cut the cake, because each slice looks like an American flag. The recipe calls for baking multiple layers of basic white cake, coloring some layers red, some blue, and some left white. The magic happens with some fancy cutting, trimming, and stacking. I”ll give you my recipe for white cake, which I flavor with plenty of vanilla and a touch of almond extract, along with step by step instructions for how to put this thing together. You can even get away with using boxed cake mix for this one.
To make the beluga lentil pilaf, follow my recipe for beluga lentil stew, with the following modifications:
Reduce the amount of stock by half. Rather than ending up with a stew, we’re looking to make a pilaf. You don’t want it to be soupy. Watch the pot while the lentils are cooking and add a little more stock if it seems that they’re going dry before they’re done.
Eliminate the tomatoes from the initial recipe.
The inclusion of sweet potatoes is optional.
Leave off the egg.