SALT | Chukat 5785

MOTZAEI

We read the opening section of Parashat Chukat in the Beit Ha-kenesset twice each year: on Shabbat Parashat Chukat, and on Shabbat Parashat Para, before the month of Nissan. This section deals with the purification process required of someone or something who/that had become "tamei" (ritually impure) through contact with a dead body before they could enter the Mikdash or be used with sacrificial meat and the like. This process involved the ashes of the "para aduma," the red heifer, that were prepared specifically for this purpose. We conduct a special reading of this portion before Pesach to commemorate the orders that were issued that time of year during the period of the Mikash for everyone to undergo purification to enable his offering of the korban pesach.

In Orach Chayim 685, the Beit Yossef cites one version of the text of Tosafot in Masekhet Berakhot 13a that considers this reading of Parashat Para a Biblical obligation, akin to the reading of Parashat Zakhor, which we conduct on the Shabbat before Purim. The Beit Yossef proceeds to question this equation. As we read in Parashat Zakhor, the Torah clearly requires us to recall the incident of Amalek's attack against us, a requirement understood by the Gemara as involving verbal mention. Parashat Para, by contrast, appears to have no source calling for its annual reading according to Torah law. This reading appears purely commemorative in nature, as we said, established by Chazal to recall the preparations required during the time of the Mikdash in anticipation of Pesach. What Biblical source could there be for this obligation of reading Parashat Para?

The Steipler Gaon zt"l points to a verse at the conclusion of Parashat Metzora as the possible source for this Biblical obligation according to [this version of] Tosafot: "You shall put Benei Yisrael on guard against their uncleanness, lest they die through their uncleanness by defiling My tabernacle which is among them" (Vayikra 15:31). Though the Malbim understands this verse as requiring the kohanim to warn Benei Yisrael against walking onto the Temple grounds while in a state of "tum'a," the Steipler argues that the responsibility rests upon the community's religious authorities (Bet Din). The community fulfills this obligation through the public reading of the relevant Torah portion, Parashat Para, prior to Pesach.

Lest one thing that nowadays we continue this practice merely as commemoration, the Steipler adds that the Biblical obligation remains even in the post-Temple era. Since the Mikdash may be rebuilt at any moment, the requirement exists as much today as then to prepare ourselves for the korban pesach. For this reason, Tosafot maintain that the annual reading of Parashat Para constitutes a Biblical requirement even nowadays.

SUNDAY

Parashat Chukat concludes with Benei Yisrael's military victory against their threatening assailant, Og, king of Bashan. The Midrash presents a somewhat bizarre account of the events that occurred during this battle. Og, an enormous, powerful giant, lifted a mountain the size of the entire Israelite camp and sought to drop it upon them and destroy them. Suddenly, millions of tiny ants gnawed right through the uprooted mountain turning it into a doughnut shape. It then collapsed around Og's neck.

The depth of this story, which, were it not to have been included in the Gemara and Midrash, would have sounded almost like a fairy-tale ("chas ve-shalom"), is revealed to us by the Maharal of Prague, in his work, "Gur Aryeh." Og sought to destroy Am Yisrael with his physical strength, symbolized by the large, imposing mountain in his hands. His plan is foiled by ants - tiny, powerless creatures whose strength lies solely in their mouths. Benei Yisrael, too, have little hope should they rely on their physical strength; their might stems from their mouths, their spiritual world. (See the famous Targum Onkelos on Bereishit 2:7 which associates the power of speech with man's spiritual essence.) Armed with only physical power, Og simply could not match the spiritual might of Am Yisrael.

This explanation may also shed some light on a different passage in the Midrash, cited by Rashi in his comments to 21:34. God told Moshe not to fear Og, suggesting a degree of apprehension on Moshe's part. Rashi explains that many years earlier, Og had informed Avraham Avinu of his nephew's capture, an act of kindness that could have potentially lent the giant the upper hand in battle against Am Yisrael. God therefore reassures Moshe that he has nothing to fear.

Leaving aside the obvious question of why a single kind act (which, according to the Midrash, Og performed for personal interests) should grant a wicked king military victory over Am Yisrael, a different question arises, as well. In the end, of course, Benei Yisrael defeated Og; apparently, this merit did not suffice. So, where did Moshe go wrong? If this act of kindness rendered Og deserving of victory, then why did he lose; if it did not provide him with sufficient merit, then what was Moshe worried about to begin with?

The answer is that Og attacked Benei Yisrael with a "mountain." He didn't approach the battle with the merits to his name in mind. He depended entirely on his physical strength and afforded no meaning or significance to spirituality. Any merits he carried were therefore of no avail in this campaign. Og and his army fell prey to the "mouths" of Benei Yisrael, the force of their prayers and Torah learning.

MONDAY

As the Ramban notes, the issue of Moshe's sin in Parashat Chukat, on account of which God denied him entry into Eretz Yisrael, has troubled scholars throughout the ages. Each approach raises its own questions; our job is to resolve these difficulties to the best of our ability in an attempt to understand each view.

As we know, Rashi sees Moshe's having hit, rather than spoken to, the rock as his disobedience to which God refers. Whereas he was instructed to produce water by speaking to the rock, he hit it, instead. Several later commentators rejected this approach for two basic reasons (beyond the question that arises according to virtually all explanations: for this he deserves to die??). First, thirty-nine years earlier, in a similar situation recorded at the end of Parashat Beshalach, God specifically instructed Moshe to extract water from a rock by hitting it. In light of this precedent, Moshe had good reason to believe that he should smite the rock now, too. Secondly, God tells Moshe to assemble the people and take his staff. For what purpose was he to take his staff if not to smite the rock?

Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky zt"l explained that Moshe sinned with regard to his primary mission as transmitter of the "mesora," the tradition of Sinai. Moshe Rabbeinu taught us first and foremost to meticulously obey the word of God without introducing any deviations based on our own intellectual reasoning. Though logical deduction and rational thought are needed to determine the precise application of the Torah's laws in given situations (known to us as the "Torah she-b'al peh"), the laws themselves must remain eternally binding and unchanged. Moshe deviated ever so slightly from the divine command using his deductive reasoning: for what other reason would the Almighty have him bring his rod? But this is precisely what he, the one who brought us the Torah, was to teach us not to do. God had to punish Moshe severely in order to reinforce this message that may have been lost as a result of this incident: we must obey every word of God's law, down to the last detail, whether we understand it or not.

This explanation beautifully connects this incident, arguably the central feature of Parashat Chukat, with the opening section of the parasha, that of the para aduma. Chazal speak of the halakha of the para aduma as the paradigmatic "chok," a law whose logic eludes us. Though we must invest maximum effort into knowing and understanding God's laws, there is much about the Torah that we don't and will likely never fully comprehend. But Parashat Chukat tells us that the mitzvot constitute "chukat ha-Torah," the statute of the Torah, that binds us eternally and calls upon us to demonstrate unwavering obedience to the Almighty.

TUESDAY

Among the ways by which one can contract tum'a (ritual impurity) from a dead body is "tum'at ohel," by being situated under the same roof as the corpse, as discussed in Parashat Chukat. The Torah introduces this institution by writing, "This is the law ['Torah'] concerning a person when he dies in a tent… " (Bemidbar 19:14). In a famous out-of-context extrapolation of the verse, Chazal (Shabbat 83b) learn from here that "the words of Torah are retained only by one who kills himself over them." The Rambam elaborates on this comment in Hilkhot Talmud Torah 3:12: "The words of Torah are not retained in one who is slack regarding them, and not in those who study out of luxury, eating and drinking, but rather in one who kills himself over them and denies himself physically at all times, who does not allow his eyes to sleep or eyelids to slumber. The sages said as an allusion: 'This is the Torah concerning a person when he dies in a tent' - Torah is retained only by one who kills himself in the tents of the scholars."

Although, as the Rambam clearly points out, Chazal employed this verse as merely a subtle allusion to the idea they wished to convey, the syntax and context of the verse likely contribute to the message for which it was drafted. Today we will consider the significance of the term "tent" in this verse. The Rambam indicates that the textual allusion to physical exertion in Torah study uses the word "ohel" as a reference to the beit midrash - the study hall. Chazal define "ohel" in this manner in other contexts, as well. In Parashat Toledot, the Torah describes Yaakov Avinu as a "dweller of tents" (Bereishit 25:27), which, according to Chazal, Targum Onkelos and Rashi, means a diligent student of Torah. (Rashbam and Ibn Ezra interpret the phrase as referring to Yaakov's career as a shepherd.) Later, in Parashat Ki-Tisa, we read of Yehoshua who "would not budge from inside the tent" (Shemot 33:11), which Chazal understood as a description of his assiduous Torah study (see Menachot 99b, Temura 16a). What is it about a tent that renders it an appropriate symbol for total immersion in Torah study?

The Pardeis Yoseif explains that a tent, as opposed to a house, points to transience and impermanence. One who pitches a tent intends to take it apart and relocate in the near future. Chazal here teach us that this level of "killing oneself" over Torah, the preparedness to forego on physical delights for the sake of the maximum quantitative and qualitative effort in Torah learning, requires one to see his surroundings as a tent. Only one who views his world as transient, who firmly believes in an ultimate destiny and purpose beyond the immediate gratification of the physical world, can minimize his indulgence and "kill himself" over Torah.

Generally speaking, one invests maximum time and energy into that which he deems most critical and with the farthest reaching ramifications. The less importance one affords to material pursuits as opposed to spiritual endeavors, the more likely his achievement in Torah study becomes. We say every night before shema, "For they are our lives and the length of our days - and in them we shall engage day and night." If one views Torah as his very life, as the most basic purpose of his existence, then he will surely engage in them at every spare moment.

WEDNESDAY

Parashat Chukat records Benei Yisrael's brief "shirat ha-be'eir," the song sung in honor of the well that accompanied them through the wilderness: "Spring up, O well - sing to it - the well which the chieftains dug, which the nobles of the people started with maces, with their own staffs. And from the wilderness it was given to them, and once it was given to them, it descended with them into the valley, and from the valley it ascended with them to the high places… " (21:17-19; translation based on Targum Onkelos).

Already in the writings of Chazal we find these verses viewed as speaking about the Torah and Torah study. (See, for example, Eiruvin 54b, Or Ha-chayim, and many others.) Indeed, the association of water with Torah is well documented both in Chazal and subsequent works of "derush" (homiletics).

We may suggest, however, that a particular relationship exists between Torah and the well as presented by the nation in this song. The song focuses on two elements of the well: its having come into existence through the work of the national leaders, and its miraculously having accompanied Benei Yisrael wherever they went in the wilderness, from the deepest valleys to the highest mountain-tops. In this sense, the well accurately represented Benei Yisrael's spiritual "water," the Torah, the singular strength of which perhaps lies in these two characteristics. First, just as the task of digging the well was not left to the peasants or lowest echelons of society, but rather to Moshe and Aharon (Rashi), so is Torah entrusted with the scholars and sages in every generation. Its success has been guaranteed by the constant supply of brilliant minds prepared to devote their lives to unearthing the divine wisdom in the ancient texts and transmitting the sacred knowledge to the rest of the people. The scholarly wells of Torah have been dug by the spiritual chieftains and nobles throughout the ages, ensuring the successful perpetuation of tradition and transmission of our eternal heritage with absolute integrity and authenticity. Secondly, Torah is unmatched among religious codes in its resilience. It continues to pass the tests posed by time and the vicissitudes of change. It has risen together with Benei Yisrael to their glorious eras and golden ages, just as it accompanies the nation to the lowest valleys, serving as a source of comfort and strength during periods of darkness.

The song of the well is thus one and the same with the song of Torah. Both celebrate the eternity and constancy of God's relationship with His people, one which manifests itself in His ongoing provision of "water," in both senses of the word.

THURSDAY

Parashat Chukat records the death of Miriam, the sister of Aharon and Moshe: "… they stayed in Kadesh; Miriam died there and was buried there" (20:1). The Gemara (Avoda Zara 29b) associates the word "sham" ("there") in this verse with the same word in the context of the "egla arufa," the calf brought as atonement by the elders of a city near the scene of a murder: "There, in the valley, they shall break the heifer's neck" (Devarim 21:4). Through the exegetical device of "gezeira shava," Chazal learn from here that just as a prohibition exists against deriving any benefit from an "egla arufa," so may one not derive any benefit from a dead body. The Rishonim debate as to whether or not this prohibition applies as well to the remains of gentiles. Whereas the Shut Ha-Rashba makes no distinction between Jewish and gentile bodies in this regard, Tosafot (Bava Kama 10b) limit the prohibition to benefit from the remains of Jews. A major controversy exists among the authorities in this regard. The Shulchan Arukh (Y.D. 349:1) applies the prohibition to gentile bodies, while the Shakh sides with Tosafot, that only benefit from Jewish bodies are forbidden. The Vilna Gaon (in Bei'ur Ha-Gra) observes that the Rashba himself, in his commentary to Bava Kama, adopts Tosafot's position, and thus the ruling follows this view, that one may derive benefit from the remains of gentiles. The Pitchei Teshuva cites a third position, that of the Even Shoham, who claims that benefit from Jewish bodies constitutes a Biblical prohibition, whereas a rabbinic prohibition forbids deriving benefit from the remains of gentiles.

Another important issue relevant to this halakha involves the precise definition of the word "remains" with regard to this prohibition. For example, may one wear a wig made from someone's hair after death? The Rambam and Semag rule that one may derive benefit from hair taken from a dead body, while the majority view among the Rishonim forbids doing so. The Shulchan Arukh adopts the latter, stringent view, while the Shakh (in Nekudot Ha-kessef) follows the lenient position of the Rambam and Semag. Moreover, based on the Gemara in Arakhin 7b, the Shulchan Arukh (Y.D. 349:2) rules that accessories such as jewelry and the like worn by the individual upon his passing become forbidden, unless the deceased had, prior to his death, given explicit orders to give them away. The Acharonim debate as to the extent to which a given accessory must be attached to the individual's body to become forbidden. The Rema allows benefit from all items worn by the deceased unless it was tied onto the person's body. If it was merely placed or loosely fastened, no prohibition applies. The Pitchei Teshuva cites a more lenient view, that of the Bekhor Shor, who restricts this prohibition to items meant to become part of the person's body, such as a wig, false teeth, etc. Jewelry attached - even firmly - to the individual's body do not become forbidden upon his/her death. The Gesher Ha-chayim rules even more leniently, permitting any items that are not situated permanently on the individual's body. Accessories that one frequently removes (including false teeth, for example) would be permitted.

In light of this discussion, a serious problem seems to arise in contemporary times concerning pacemakers implanted in cardiac patients. In 1978, a cardiologist from Bnei-Brak brought the issue before Rav Eliezer Waldenburg of Jerusalem (as recorded in Tzitz Eliezer 14:83). He explained that given the exorbitant cost of these machines, refraining from retrieving them from the remains of deceased patients for use in others would present a severe financial burden upon the medical establishment. Rav Waldenburg ruled that, strictly speaking, there is room for leniency in this regard. He noted that the Bekhor Shor (cited briefly above), permitted those items not attached as part of the individual's body when leaving them would incur serious financial loss. He explained that the entire issue of accessories on the deceased's body arises only once we assume that the hair itself is forbidden. According to the Rambam and Semag, who allow deriving from benefit from the hair of the deceased, a position adopted as authoritative by the Shakh, one cannot possibly prohibit the use of accessories merely attached to the body. Thus, in situations of serious financial loss, we may rely on the minority view of the Rambam and Semag. Rav Waldenburg applies this argument to the case of the pacemaker, apparently assuming (quite reasonably, it would seem) that we should not view the machine as part of the individual's body, as we would a false tooth, for example, but rather as a foreign object. Rav Waldenburg addresses a different issue, as well, that of "nivul ha-meit," the prohibition against desecrating a body after death. Though this lies beyond the scope of our discussion, Rav Waldenburg documents proof of the fact that under certain conditions, financial considerations would allow surgical procedures after death.

In conclusion, however, Rav Waldenburg suggests that patients receiving a pacemaker should sign a document stating that they merely borrow the machine from the medical agency until death, at which point they authorize its immediate removal from the body. In this manner, as we saw above, the object is certainly permitted to be used.

We should note that this ruling is not universally accepted. Rav Yitzchak Weiss forbids the removal of pacemaker after the patient's death - Minchat Yitzchak 7:101.

FRIDAY

Earlier this week we discussed Rashi's position that Moshe sinned at Mei Meriva in that he hit, rather than speaking to, the rock. Today we will address this view further based on a brief passage in Divrei Shaul, by Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson. Rav Nathanson claims that having grown in the supernatural conditions enjoyed by Benei Yisrael in the wilderness, the new generation credited Moshe himself with the comforts their enjoyed. (See, for example, Devarim 8:15-16.) God bid Moshe to speak to the rock so as to demonstrate to the people that God Himself provides for them. Instead, Moshe smote the rock, reinforcing the mistaken notion that he personally has been supplying the people's needs.

As mentioned, Rav Nathanson presents this analysis very briefly, allowing room for elaboration. We will attempt here to explain more fully the approach he cryptically posits.

The incident of Mei Meriva marks our first encounter with the new generation, the children of the generation of the spies who had left Egypt. After a 38-year lapse in the narrative, we now read, for the first time, of the nation born and raised within the protective clouds of glory, who knew no food other than manna and no water other than that which flowed from the miraculous well of Miriam (see Rashi, 20:2). For them, this existence was a natural one, for it was all they knew. In another year, however, they would enter Eretz Yisrael, the clouds would disappear, the manna would stop, and they would have to depend on rainwater. More importantly, they would have to turn to the Almighty and beg for His indispensable assistance as they build their nation in the Promised Land. This required a fundamental change of perspective. Somehow, they would need to recognize God's Hand that has provided for them throughout their lives and learn to work on their own while asking for His help.

The loss of Miriam's well upon her death provided the perfect opportunity for this critical educational lesson. For the first time in 38 years, the question arose: how do we get water? When the "well runs dry," where do we go to quench our thirst? God ordered Moshe to seize the opportunity, to gather the people and "speak" to the rock. In a brief but revealing passage, the Yalkut Shimoni says, "The Almighty said to Moshe Rabbeinu and Aharon Ha-kohen, 'Speak to the rock - teach them one chapter, and that will produce water from the rock.'" The Netziv explains that Moshe and Aharon were to demonstrate the appropriate procedures for times of drought: extra learning and prayer. (In fact, the work, "Binyan Efrayim" records that during times of drought in Nevarduk, Rav Yisrael Salanter and Rav Yitzchak Blazer would first teach a chapter before conducting the special prayer service; the author notes that Rav Issar Zalman Meltzer did likewise.) Mei Meriva was thus to have begun "Sefer Devarim," if you will, the process of religious preparation for Benei Yisrael's entry into the land.

Unfortunately, however, Moshe hit the rock, instead. Upon seeing this spectacle, the people likely thought that Moshe's staff has entered the scene as the replacement for Miriam's well. When they need water, they figured, they would ask Moshe and he will crack open some rock in the wilderness. Moshe and Aharon thus missed a critical educational opportunity. Rather than training Benei Yisrael in an awareness of God, they instead reinforced the "wilderness" mentality with which the people had lived since infancy. While we will never fully understand God's judgment and how "the punishment fit the crime," this approach at least sheds new light on this most difficult narrative in the Torah.

This analysis does leave open one question, which we leave to the reader's consideration: how can we explain, in light of the above, Moshe and Aharon's shocking exclamation, "Listen, you rebels, shall we get water for you our of this rock?!" (20:10)? 

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