Nothing if not mysterious: Chukkat 5785

Life is nothing if not mysterious. The unknown and the uncertain far outweigh what we believe we understand and live by. We often experience events that are unforeseen and sometimes less than fortuitous, jarring our sense of security and serenity. Though this week's parashah dwells on one of the laws of the Torah called a chok—a law without rational explanation—it actually tells us much about human life.

The Torah states explicitly zot chukkat haTorah—this is the law of the Torah regarding all matters of life. Things we think we understand are never fully understood by humans. Every layer of scientific discovery, every fresh advance, reveals for us the specter of untold new mysteries of which we were previously quite unaware. The nature of all life is a chok. So too is the Torah, when we look at life through  the mitzvah and mystery of the parah adumah. 

From the Torah’s viewpoint, we humans have a limited ability to understand and rationalize our existence and purpose. “No living creature can see Me” is interpreted in Jewish tradition to mean “No living creature can ever understand fully the world, nature and logic of the Creator of us all”. Man is doomed to wander in a desert of doubt, without ever being able to find the way on his own. Every frustration and disappointment stems from this hard fact of life. 

Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto in his immortal work, Mesilat Yesharim, compares life to a gigantic maze from which, without direction or guidance, one can never emerge. I remember that once when I visited the grounds of a royal palace in Europe, I tried my luck at entering the maze of tall hedges. Many other people were there with me. Suffice it to say that after 40 minutes none of us had found our way out. Some people were bemused by their predicament. Others were visibly frustrated and almost angry in their inability to escape. Some even panicked. Eventually a guard entered the maze and guided us safely out. 

Rabbi Luzzatto made the point that, if one stands on a high platform that overlooks the maze and maps it out in one’s mind, negotiating the maze then becomes possible, even simple. That high platform is the Torah, which allows us to deal with the maze of life. That is the ultimate lesson of this week’s parsha. Life is a chok—a confusing maze of events, personalities and forces. Why this maze is constructed as it is, why it is even needed, is a chok—something that lies beyond our level of comprehension. But how to negotiate the maze, how to stand on the high platform overlooking and informing about it, that is within our grasp and abilities. And that is really the chukkat haTorah that is granted to us.  

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

 For "Spiritual Mysteries in the Real World", Rabbi Wein's devar Torah on parashat Chukkat last year, click here

Spiritual mysteries in the real world: Chukkat 5784

The Torah interrupts its narrative of the events that befell the Jewish people in the desert with a description of a commandment that admittedly lies beyond any rational human logic and understanding. Even the great King Solomon, the wisest and most analytical of all humans, was forced to admit that comprehension of this parsha was beyond even his most gifted intellect. So, if the Torah is meant to instruct us in life and its values, to improve and influence our behavior and lifestyle and to help us achieve our goal of being a holy people, why insert this parsha in the Torah when it can seemingly have no practical impact on our daily life or broaden our understanding of God’s presence in our lives? 

Though there is a section of Mishna devoted to the laws and halachic technicalities of the sacrifice of the “red heifer” it does not deal with the underlying motives for the existence of this commandment. Nor does it explain why this parsha is inserted here, right in the middle of its narrative of the events that transpired in the desert to the generation of Jews who left Egypt and stood at Mount Sinai. 

Both the Mishna and non-rabbinic sources provide a historical record that describes the actual performance of the commandment in Temple times. They remind us of our necessary obedience to God’s commandments even if they are not subject to human understanding. Even so, we still demand at least a glimmer of comprehension in order to make this parsha meaningful to us. 

The Torah seems to point out the reality that human life is always irrational and that human behavior frequently defies any logic or good sense. How could the generation that left Egypt and witnessed the revelation at Sinai complain about food when there was an adequate supply from Heaven? How could they prefer life in Egypt or even in the desert to living in the Land of Israel? And how could Moshe’s and Aharon’s own tribe and relatives rise against them in defiant and open rebellion? Are these not at heart bafflingly irrational decisions with a terrible downside to them? Yet they happened—and continued to happen constantly in Jewish and general life throughout history. Despite our best efforts and our constant delusion that we exist in a rational world, the Torah comes to inform us here that this is a false premise. 

If everyday life defies logic and accurate prediction, is it not most unfair and indeed illogical to demand of Torah and God that they provide us with perfectly explicable commandments and laws. The Torah inserts this parsha into the middle of its narrative of the desert adventures of the Jewish people to point out that the mysteries of life abound in the spiritual world just as they do in the mundane and seemingly practical world. 

One of the great lessons of Judaism is that we are to attempt to behave rationally even if, at the very same time, we realize that much in our personal and national lives is simply beyond our comprehension.

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein