Chukat: It Is the Law

Chukat: It Is the Law
D’var Torah for Parashat Chukat: Numbers 19:1—22:1
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

This week’s Torah portion is Chukat, Numbers 19:1—22:1. These chapters contain some of the saddest and most thought provoking stories in the entire Torah. After a brief instruction about the mysterious ritual of the Red Heifer, the story gets off to a tragic start with the death of Miriam. According to the ancient rabbis, for as long as Miriam was alive, a well of water accompanied the Israelites throughout their journeys. Now that she died, this well dried up.

Then the people complain because of their thirst, and that can never lead to anything good. What happens next is crucial to the story—and in fact to the entire thread of Judaism.

It is at this point, in response to the people’s incessant mutterings, that God commands Moses and Aaron to speak to a rock and order it to give water. Instead, Moses picks up his staff and strikes the rock. Twice. Water does gush out, but Moses and Aaron are condemned for their disobedience and are told that as punishment they won’t be able to enter the Promised Land.

What exactly Moses and Aaron did wrong isn’t made so clear by the narration. Obviously the Torah wants us to think about it. Was it that Moses lost his temper? That he had anger management issues? That he disobeyed God? And were any of these so earth-shattering as to result in such severe punishment? How come Moses doesn’t get a second chance when the rest of the people do?

And what about Aaron? Not a word is said in the parashah about what he did wrong.

As always, the answers are hidden in the text itself.

Moses is ordered to speak to the rock. Moses may have been a stutterer, but his gift was words. More than any other prophet, Moses carried the word of God to the people. In his hands, the word became an Ark, the vessel in which God’s spirit dwelled. The word is God’s promise. It is holy. Yet, when told to speak to the rock, Moses instead turns on his people and mis-speaks, rebuking the Israelites with harsh words and anger. The breakdown he is suffering is complete. Through it he admits that the people—and perhaps God—have demanded so much out of him, that it might as well be arguing with a rock, demanding that it yield its water. Many times before he had felt desperation. This time it all became just too much for him to bear. At this moment, he lost the strength to be himself—the belief in himself, in his ability to continue bearing God’s word. Worse yet, he lost his faith in the strength of God’s word.

It was the loss of faith that led the ten spies he had sent out earlier to come back with a discouraging view of the Promised Land. They were punished with exactly the same consequences. Moses couldn’t receive any special treatment from God. His punishment had to be the same as theirs. It was the law.

And Aaron? What did he do wrong? Aaron was a master of self-control. When ordered to light the Menorah—the gold candelabra that symbolized God’s light—he did so with so much precision that not a muscle twitched. Not a drop of oil spilled. It was just so. Now he could do nothing but watch in horror as his brother fell. As Moses’s brother, his duty was clear—lift him! Strengthen him! Help him! Instead, Aaron merely watches as Moses picks up his staff and strikes the rock with it. Not once, but twice.

He should have intervened between these two blows. Aaron the High Priest, a man of peace, a true and loving brother, fails to help Moses. This is the very same Aaron who in last week’s Torah portion, armed only with his incense burner, “stood between the dying and the living,” putting a halt to nothing less than a plague! Yet for his own brother, he couldn’t lift a finger. That was his failure. He too at that moment lost his strength, his ability to act and do the right thing.

Each of these two brothers failed exactly where they were entrusted to succeed. Moses, the man of words, failed to speak God’s words. Aaron, who could save countless souls with his ministrations, failed to help his brother who had fallen right next to him.


We are all people of our words and actions. We are as good as our word. What we say and who define us to the world.

We all fail hundreds of time in maintaining our responsibilities. There are always consequences. It is the law. In Hebrew, it is Chukat. The law. The loss of one’s faith is serious matter, and Moses and Aaron could not be above the law

Yet there is one more treasure hidden in this Torah portion. As the story recounts the death of Aaron, it takes place on a mountaintop, in full view of the entire people. Moses takes Aaron’s priestly garments off his brother and has Aaron’s son put them on instead. Aaron dies, but not before his son becomes the next High Priest. This is the amazing lesson—a gift, really—which the Torah now gives us. For with their deaths, Moses and Aaron enable future generations to take their place. More people will now carry God’s word to the people. Generations of them. Schools and schools of them. More priests will continue bearing to God the people’s gifts—their thanks, complaints, prayers and blessings.

The history of the Jewish people does not die with Miriam, Moses and Aaron. It only begins with them and continues through the generations, each of us taking our place in turn.

It is the law.

Ken y’hi ratzon—may this be God’s will.

©2010 by Boaz D. Heilman