The Jewish nation has spent the last nearly two years in a high state of alert and war. Those in Israel have experienced what we in the diaspora cannot imagine, and we in the diaspora have tasted much that we had assumed had been expiated by western idealism (snort). Needless to say, perspectives have shifted.
Throughout all of this, we persevere, and now we have come again to a parsha that is laden with history. Parshas Chukas is most famous for its focus on the red heifer. However, other than teaching us, directly, about the importance of observing chukos, laws for which we have no rationale, this parsha contains a fascinating reminder of the national journey and how rarely it was smooth. Taken together, the second section of Parshas Chukas draws a global picture of the challenge of being a nation dedicated to maintaining emunah and bitachon.
Following the precise directions for the service of the red heifer, the parsha records a series of short but detailed events. Miriam dies, and with her death, the source of water disappears. This brings the first complaints. The cry of the people is answered with a miracle as Moshe and Aaron bring water from the rock. This is followed by their interaction with the Edomites, who are left in peace even after they were inhospitable.
Let us pause and take that apart:
The people were disheartened by the loss of one of their
spiritual leaders. They saw the physical effect her death had on their world,
and they were shaken. They were unable to see a way to bring back something attached
to someone on such a spiritual high; they were unable to envision that they could
strive toward such collective merit. They received a miracle, but that miracle came
at a price in which they learn that even their greatest can make a mistake.
This was followed by a confrontation with an enemy who did not show them
respect and from whom they turned away and avoided. And while they went around
Edom because Hashem commanded them not to fight with Edom due to their
relationship, it felt, perhaps, as if they were avoiding defeat. Certainly, one
can imagine, their rerouting around Edom felt like a disheartening delay.
The Torah then continues with Aaron’s less shocking death (less shocking because Hashem prepared the nation that he would be gathered to his fathers). He transfers his office to his son, but his loss is devastating to the people, as was Miriam’s. Shortly thereafter, they are involved in a skirmish with a group whom the Midrash explains were Amalekits dressed as Canaanites. These soldiers of the king of Arad manage to take captive(s) but are then defeated. Regardless of this victory, however, the people complain once again about their lack of provisions – more specifically about their boredom with the manna. The consequence of this complaint – snakes - is also resolved with a miracle, that of Moshe’s snake-enhanced staff that ends the plague per Hashem’s word.
Seen together, we once again see how the loss of a great leader, the trauma that loss causes to the people, is not just on the metaphysical realm, where a channel to holiness has closed, but on the morale of the people as a whole. The first sign of this shift is, interestingly, in the language used to describe the skirmish with the men of the king of Arad:
“Then Israel made a vow to Hashem and said, ‘If You deliver this people into our hand, we will
proscribe their towns.’ Hashem heeded
Israel’s plea and delivered up the Canaanites; and they and their cities were
proscribed. So that place was named Hormah” (Bamidbar 21:2-3).
Why are they making a vow to Hashem, and why one worded like a bargain? Why are they ignoring who they are and the fact that Hashem has promised to be with them. The answer is, perhaps, that they no longer felt certain. They were recovering from the mortality of those who seemed like pillars of existence to them.
When there is a lack of morale, when people are stuck in a “why us” mindframe, there is often a waning of emuna and bitachon. When there is a lack of morale, the people complain: “Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread and no water” (Bamidbar 21:5). When there is a lack of emuna and bitachon, the problem goes deeper: “and we have come to loathe this miserable food” (ibid.).
The plague of poisonous snakes that followed was not because they complained of physical discomfort, of being hungry and thirsty. Hashem had heard this complaint before. The plague of poisonous snakes was direct result of the viper of despair that they had allowed to grow within their midst from the death of Aaron.
National tragedies, complaints, wars, and miracles – a rather startling combination repeated twice, repeated throughout history. Alas, within all that is occurring in the third decade of the 21st century (or the 9th decade of the 58th century, depending on the calendar), it seems that Parshas Chukas has great resonance. The question is how we hear it? History may repeat itself, but our response in each repetition is what becomes significant. It is up to us to avoid “vipers of despair,” and to reach for new opportunities to develop a connection to Hashem.
