Bamidbar 19:1 – 22:1
Mortality and Miriam as Prophet
If I were to name one consistent theme in Parsha Chukat, it might be seen as a treatise on death and dying. We begin with the ritual of the ritual of the Red Cow, without blemish to be slaughtered by a priest outside the camp, ritually doing a purification offering, then ritually burning the carcass, storing the ashes to be used in the waters of lustration. These waters of lustration are used in a purification ritual for those who encounter death.
This is followed by the death of Miriam at Kadesh. It was the 40th year in their wilderness journey. Miriam, Moshe’s sister had been there for Moshe all along the way. It was she who watched her baby brother, ensuring that she could be there to see him rescued by Pharoah’s daughter. Miriam led the women, timbrels in hand, as they crossed the Reed Sea. It was she that the water followed through their journey in the desert. Though given little space in a Torah written by men in a patriarchal system, it is clear she really was a prophet of the highest order. Besides Miriam, according to the Torah: Women’s Commentary, the only women whose death were recorded were Sarah, Rachel, and Rebekah’s nurse Deborah. In these last three stops, we see the death of Miriam and Aaron in this parsha, then Moshe himself. In six of seven mentions of Miriam in Torah, she is mentioned as a leader. All this suggesting it seems to a more elaborate tradition that has not been preserved.
In contrast to her innocent death, Aaron and Moshe’s death are a result as it is told are a punishment for the incident at Meribah where Moshe seems to take credit for the well after striking the rock in his frustration because the people, fearful from their lack of water, cry out to Moshe. Hashem says to hold out his cane and the water will come forth. Instead, he rebukes the people and strikes the stone. Now here I tend to take some issue. Yes, he spoke in anger and struck the stone. But come on, Moshe and Aaron had just lost their beloved sister, who in my mind’s eye, had been the silent force behind her brothers. I’m no stranger to grief, and I know that a common emotion accompanying the grieving process is anger. He may have been leader and held to a higher standard, but he was a human being, as was his brother Aaron. Perhaps we read it as a punishment when indeed they were both quite old. After all, Moshe was 120 when he dies soon after.
The parsha goes on to see the death of Aaron, another rebellion of the people followed by an attack of snakes, headed off by a copper serpent in the hands of Moshe, and a series of battles taking them to the border of the promised land.
Throughout this parsha, we are dealing with our finite human life on earth. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks of blessed memory reminds us according to Abraham, we are mere dust and ashes. Blood represents life, and the heifer like blood is red, but reduced to ashes. Water on the other hand, represents life. The ashes are dissolved in “living water” and from water comes purification or new life. In our parsha, one is impure for seven days. But with Aaron, the mourning lasts for 30 days. This verse is one of two which provides for the Biblical precedent of shloshim.
Today, we see remnants of these old traditions in our grieving process. In the first seven days, we sit shiva, and ingathering of friends and loved ones to care for those mourning, a gentle reminder that they are not alone. Nearing 76 years of age, I’ve seen a lot of death in a lifetime. When my beloved Skip passed away, I was in a sort of haze, not sure if life would ever continue. It was that circle around me, those who knew and loved me, who helped hold me up until I was strong enough to do it myself. At the time, I hardly knew they were there, but in retrospect, I know what a real blessing they were. They were my waters of lustration, bringing life in the face of death. It was they who enabled me to see life ahead despite the suffocating grief in the face of one I loved so deeply. Grieving of course does not end in a week or a month, and the work continues. But they enabled me to see a future of possibility beyond the depths of despair.
Also however, my own mortality looms. After the loss of Miriam and Aaron and fully knowing that he (Moshe) would be dying soon, I wonder what was Moshe thinking? At the age of 76 in July, I know I often think about that real possibility my days are numbered on this earth. But until that happens, I have today, this day in which I am fully alive! I think of how I use my time. Despite my infirmity, there is much still to be done. No, it will not be completed, but making use of that time between now and then is the very essence of life itself.
From the Unetaneh tokef prayer during the High Holy Days, we are “a fragment of pottery, a blade of grass, a flower that fades, a shadow, a cloud, a breath of wind.” We pass on, but Hashem is life forever. It is not for us to complete the job, neither myself nor the greatest among us. Nevertheless, it is our job to move us towards that promised land, that better world for us all.
L’chaim! Baruch Hashem! ֿ
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