The Riddle Of The Red Heifer: Parshat Chukat
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
July 10, 2019
The mystery of the Red Heifer (“Chukat,” Numbers 19:1—22:1) is fated to remain a mystery. Though the sacrificial ritual is explicitly ordained in the Torah, its procedure outlined and its purpose explained, by early Rabbinic times (1stcentury CE) the rules have become mystified enough to cause endless arguments and divisions that have not been resolved to this day. It is said that even God, in the Heavenly Abode, studies and reviews this portion, as though within it lie hidden the deepest secrets of Creation and Destruction.
The purpose of the ritual of the Red Heifer was to purify a person who had come in contact with a corpse. For the living, death was synonymous with impurity, making this ritual necessary if one was to return to a state of sanctity and wholeness. And yet, even as the sacrifice fulfills its healing purpose, the priest who offers it becomes impure himself and has to undergo his own ritual of purification.
How does the Red Heifer both purify and defile? What power is hidden within either the animal or the ritual that can do both at once?
The ritual of the Red Heifer is said to have been performed nine times during Temple days, with one last offering yet to come at some point in the future—signifying the arrival of the Messiah. Understandably, the timing of this ultimate event remains shrouded in mystery, though there have been attempts, both in Israel and elsewhere, to genetically engineer a perfectly red heifer and thus hasten the coming of the Messiah.
Of all the questions of faith, the riddle of the Red Heifer is considered the most impenetrable, the one that must never be questioned. And as such, it is best understood symbolically.
Like every other religion, Judaism has practical, real-world aspects; and yet at its innermost core, like all other religions, like God Himself, Jewish faith is fundamentally unfathomable. It defies reason; it makes miracles possible. It transcends death.
Of all the commandments in the Torah then, this ultimate act of faith, the Ritual of the Red Heifer, the one that permits us to rise above death itself, must stand alone. Inexplicable, as vast and infinite as God, it becomes the essence of Faith itself, containing within it all the elements that enable human beings to rise from the dust and achieve the great potential embedded with each of us.
What would life be like without Faith, this Torah portion seems to be asking us. And then it answers its own question. In the verses and chapters that follow come several events of rebellion and dissatisfaction, of envy and war, of death and destruction.
Chronicling the journey of the Israelites in the Wilderness, Parshat Chukat (“The Law Of The Torah”) relates some of the last steps of their path toward the Promised Land. Yet, as the portion ends, the Israelites find themselves still homeless, still unrooted—and worse, surrounded by enemies, seemingly entrapped in the land of Moab, an enemy of the Israelites described as both inherently immoral and vastly dangerous. They may be as close to the conclusion of their travails in the wilderness as can be, yet the end is not yet in sight, and in fact things are about to get much, much worse.
Hungry and thirsty, the Israelites take to complaining bitterly.
Then tragedy strikes, in the form of the death of Aaron the High Priest.
Even Moses, the most patient and compassionate defender and protector of the Jewish People, momentarily loses his faith—and along with that, his God-granted privilege of leading the people. Beset by a thirsty and exhausted congregation, Moses yells at his people and even resorts to a violent act of impatience and anger. Ordered by God to speak to a rock and command it to produce water, Moses strikes the rock instead with his staff. Water flows forth, but the damage is irreparable. Moses’s loss of faith, this display—in plain sight of the entire people—of disbelief in the power of God’s word, will result in terrible punishment. Moses will see the Promised Land, but he will not enter it. He will die in the Land of Moab, his deathplace unknown, the robe of leadership stripped from him and given to another.
Life without faith, this Torah portion tells us, is meaningless. It’s exhausting and draining. Scoffers may scoff, but it is faith that gives us our strength to go on, to persevere despite the setbacks we may suffer along the way. Our faith enables us to rise, time and time again, from failure, from persecution, from destruction and exile. Our faith gives us more than mysterious and antiquated rituals. It enables us to imagine a better place and strengthens us along the way there. Despite the vast distances of time and space that may lie between us, our faith has the power to unify us, to turn us from a rabble, a sheperdless herd, into an Eternal People, champions of freedom, progress and civilization.
We don’t really need to understand the mystery behind the ritual of the Red Heifer. We just need to keep it as a symbol before our eyes, as a symbol of our Faith. There are other rituals that we can follow, other traditions that will inspire us, that will give meaning to our existence and infuse purpose into each step forward that we take.
There is no escaping the harsh realities of life. No one—not even Moses—is entitled to more than is ordained for us by powers we do not understand. But what we can do is to rise from hopelessness and despair. We can find beauty in harsh landscapes; we can enjoy moments of light and joy even when surrounded by the darkest nights. We can find the strength to go on living even when we find ourselves deep in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
Our Faith is the guarantor of our continued existence.
And that is the meaning of the riddle of the Red Heifer. Hidden within its mysteries lies the secret of our survival.
And perhaps, when the time is ripe, also of the redemption of all humankind.
Kein y’hi ratzon—may this be God’s will.
Ramat Gan, The State of Israel
© 2019 by Boaz D. Heilman
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