Chukat
Numbers 19:1–22:1
Judges 11:1–33
This week’s portion, Chukat, details what surely is one of the most inscrutable and strange rituals of biblical religion. Numbers 19 is devoted to the ritual of the parah adumah, the “red heifer.”
An unblemished, healthy cow of an unusual and symbolically significant color is ritually killed and burned along with aromatic wood and spices. The ashes are then mixed with water and used in a purification rite to ritually cleanse people who have touched a human corpse. This mixture is so powerful that the priest who performs the rite is himself rendered temporarily impure through contact with the ashes and water.
Torah teachings whose purposes are obvious and that Judaism shares with all other legal systems are called mishpatim; in rabbinic teachings these are sometimes called the “rational” laws. The chukim — the law of the red heifer is considered the ultimate example — are those mitzvot that do not appear to have a particular purpose and whose meaning, as far as we can discern, is in its performance; the fulfillment of the prescribed act is its own reward.
Yehudah HaLevi (12th century) called these commandments “divine laws” and explained that the purpose of certain mitzvot, such as the prohibition on mixing linen and wool or the laws of kashrut, is to enhance communion with God, and that they are “beyond reason” (Kuzari 1:98).
Maimonides, always a rationalist, insisted that the distinction between rational mishpatim and irrational chukim is a false one. If only we could understand the social circumstances in which they came about or their psychological underpinnings, then all would make sense; the distinction between chukim and mishpatim refers to our human understanding of the utility of the mitzvot, not to their ultimate value (Guide 3:27-32).
Maimonides’ explanation reminds me of Einstein; there is a logic and sense to everything — we just have yet to figure it out! Others teach that the chukim are acts of love; just as we honor irrational requests or apparently random quirks of family members as a way of expressing our love. We can fulfill the mitzvot in the same fashion.
We may choose to honor and take on a historical mitzvah because it is part of our Jewish identity. My personal observance of many mitzvot is motivated, in part, by my understanding that “this is what Jews do” — and my own actions, of course, contribute to the enduring validity of such a statement.
For Maimonides, the overarching purpose of the mitzvot is the perfection of the human soul. We, too, are motivated to fulfill the mitzvot because they are good for us and help us grow in holiness and character; Judaism’s strict rules about appropriate speech are sometimes hard for me to honor, but I know that the discipline that these mitzvot ask of me do indeed help me to become the person I seek to be.
A third reason Jews honor the mitzvot is because we find in them a path to spiritual fulfillment, and a route to intimacy and closeness with God. As the rabbis taught, “the reward of a mitzvah is the mitzvah” (Leviticus Rabbah 9:7).
We are not always consistent about what motivates our Jewish commitments; at different times, I can give varying explanations for my various practices. Rarely are these differing reasons exclusive; often, all three factors, to different degrees, are present for me. Yet I have also noticed that I can be quick to judge others when their motivations and reasons for fulfilling specific mitzvot strike me as inappropriate or wrong, although I may myself use a differently nuanced version of the same value in a different context. Do you ever find yourself evaluating and critiquing others’ explanations for their own choices and standards of observance?
As for the red heifer, it is reported that King Solomon could explain the basis for all of the mitzvot except this one.
Rabbi Yoel Kahn is the senior rabbi at Reform Congregation Beth El of Berkeley. He can be reached at [email protected].