Pyka Family

Parashat And Sidra of Hukkath

Parashat Chukat is the 39th weekly Torah portion in the annual Jewish cycle of Torah reading.

Kach et ha-mate…vedibartem el ha-sela” – “Take a stick…and you will speak to a rock”. In the story of the water coming out of the rock, Moshe and Aharon were punished by not entering the
The Promised Land. It is hard to understand why they were punished so severely. The traditional interpretation says that because they did not exactly obey the command of the Hashem, which was to just
they spoke to the rock and it will give water. It was to teach Israel that even rock (inanimate nature) obeys G-d’s word, just as they can complain all the time? Despite this explanation, the whole story is still difficult to understand. What difference does it make if water comes out of a rock after you strike it with a stick or if you speak to it? Both things they are a miracle that must make a great impression on Israel. So why is it necessary to punish Moshe and Aharon so severely for such a trifle? And in addition – the Hashem gave him the command to take a stick with him! Moshe logically deduced from this command that he must use a stick (in Judaism it is called – “davar mitoch davar” – to understand one from the other), as in the first case when the people there was no water (this is again called “gezera sava” – as there, the same here). So he used two absolutely legitimate ways of interpreting the Oral Torah. And that was exactly the Lord’s test for Moshe.
It was about the correct hierarchy of authorities that must be set up correctly. There is G-d’s word – the command to speak to the rock, and on the other hand Moshe’s logic – what is the stick and before
it was like this. It was precisely for this that such a severe punishment followed, as it was a dangerous precedent in setting
rules of understanding G-d’s will.
People might, after the story with Moš, get the impression that there is no need to follow exactly God’s words, on the contrary, it is possible (and perhaps even desirable) to replace them with human logic and experiences.
Of course, it is generally true, and especially in Judaism, that a person in the service of G-d starts from himself – his own logic and experience in life, as these are the tools that the Lord himself gave him to equip His knowledge.
Nevertheless, and precisely for this reason, it must be borne in mind that in the hierarchy above this stands the clearly stated G-d
will, which must be the most binding thing for man. Otherwise, he himself becomes the creator of his religious experience (and there are such cases in the world), and not the fulfiller of G-d’s will.
He taught us this narrow limit with his story Moshe. Not even him in his holiness, absolute service to the Hashem, the power of his logic and enormous experiences, cannot and must not become the decisive and determining factor. This would result in a complete distortion of the foundations of the monotheistic faith as it was through Israel revealed to the world. (The Midrash, which tells about Moshe’s conversation with G-d, sounds in a similar spirit, when Moshe wished to understand the principles of G-d’s decisions. The Hashem showed him a tangled story, which sounded completely unfair and illogical – in the eyes of Moshe.
G-d asked him if he understood what had happened here and Moshe had to admit that he did not. The Hashem then added information to him, in the light of which everything was in the best order and explained that that is the logic that only He understands and determines. Moshe understood and resigned – the greatest human neither experience nor possible genius can capture G-d’s management of the world and His intentions in history of the entire world, nations or individual human destinies.) We will always be limited in our knowledge by our physical nature, our perceptions and never we cannot fully understand the meaning of things. “Vaishlach Moshe…el melech Edom” – “And he sent Moses…to the king of Edom”. There are 3 stories of conflicts with other nations in the parasha, each different from the other. The first example is the king of Edom, whom Israel asks to pass through his land. After his refusal, he undertakes to follow only the marked path, and even if the king of Edom does not agree, so Israel turns away from him and bypasses his territory. The second case is Sihon – the Amorite king who also refuses to let Israel pass through his land. Israel is fighting him and occupying his territory.
The third is Bashan king Og, with whom there was no negotiation at all about the passage, Israel straight away entered and took his land. How are these cases different? Edom was a descendant of Esau – Jacob’s brother. When the Land of Israel was promised to Jacob, the territory of Mount Seir (later Edom) was given To Esau, as his inheritance (Deuteronomy 2:5).
Because Esau (Edom) had a “bad” experience with Jacob (Israel), who took away from him birthright and the land of Israel, it will be hard to believe the Jewish people now that they only want to pass his country. This is a legitimate concern and any unnecessary bloodshed should be avoided. The situation is different
with Sihon the king of the Amorites. When he saw what happened (or didn’t happen) to Edom, and that Israel’s intention was really just to pass through, he should have to enable them.
The basic rules of human decency include what is called in Judaism – “ze nehene veze lo chaser”- to provide another with pleasure when it is at no one’s expense. His gratuitous reluctance she showed his evil nature – “rasha”, and in such a case there is no need to try anxiously avoid conflict (a rough patch for a rough bag). Israel must somehow get to their land, so when the Amorites go to war against them, they fight them and are given land that was not originally intended for them.
The third case of Og – the king of Bashan was different again. Og saw that Israel’s intention was only to pass, and that he had no chance of standing against them in war. Nevertheless, he does not try to negotiate and immediately goes on the attack. This gives Israel additional “unplanned” territory. For Israel, it was also a certain necessity to overcome Og, because as they say – “oh le rasha oh leshcheno” woe to the villain and woe to his neighbor. We can learn from these stories that “two doing the same thing is not the same thing” – our duty is to
trying to understand the core of the problem and the motives of the people with whom we sometimes come into conflict.
We are not always right (see Edom) and sometimes we get more than we deserve for being honest in our approach we deserve (see the Amorite Sichon), and he who always walks honestly with the Hashem is protected and blessed.

Chassidic Parashat

Arrogance in Action
In our Parashat we find a detailed account of the preparation of the Parah Adumah, the red heifer. Why it worked and how it worked, we don’t know, and Rashi
reminds us that it is a Chok, a statute that we follow even without understanding it. He warns us that even contemplating the topic is forbidden. Nevertheless, we do know what happened. It was m’taher t’mayim, and m’tamei tahorim. It purified the impure and defiled the pure. Those who were Tamei (ritually impure) due to contact with the dead were purified by the Parah Adumah. Yet the Cohanim who handled it who had to be Tahor (ritually pure) to begin with, became Tamei (ritually impure) in the process.
It defies logic, but this is the nature of a Chok! Nevertheless, we know that the Torah is eternal. The Baal ShemTov taught therefore that everything in the Torah has a lesson for us in Avodas Hashem (divine service). Chassidic literature is replete with profound lessons in Avodas
Hashem drawn from the concept of m’taher t’mayim, and m’tamei tahorim. The Baal ShemTov gave this explanation when asked about the lesson of the Parah Adumah in the realm of Avodas Hashem. It comes to teach us about arrogance. Sometimes a person is very far from Hashem and is hardly involved in Torah and Mitzvos. When he turns around and wants to come close to Hashem, he may begin with non-altruistic motives. He may want to assure himself a place in the World to Come or to be accepted by certain people or even to show others how pious he really is. As he progresses in the process of Teshuva (return), he feels that he has accomplished much and is satisfied with his efforts. Nevertheless, explained the Baal ShemTov, we know that without Hashem on our side, we cannot accomplish anything at all. But for this Ba’al Teshuva, a bit of
arrogance is fine, and even if he does Teshuva for the wrong reasons, eventually he will come to serve Hashem for the right reasons. We see here m’taher t’mayim. His arrogance is actually serving to affect his Teshuva. Nevertheless, once he has reached a certain level he must serve Hashem with humility. Arrogance then would be m’tamei tahorim. On the other hand there are Tzaddikim who are already serving Hashem fully and
wholeheartedly with perfect intention. For them, arrogance spoils the Avodah, that is the explanation of m’tamei tahorim.
Even the Tzaddikim though, sometimes need arrogance. When a Tzaddik moves from one level to another in Avodas Hashem, sometimes he needs to take a leap
in order to reach a higher level. It is asked in the Talmud (Sandhedrin 37a), “Why was Man created alone? In order that he should say that the World was created for me!” This is the bit of arrogance required by a Tzaddik to dare to leap up to a new level of Avodas Hashem. This is how arrogance is m’taher t’mayim. The
arrogance can propel the Tzaddik to a previously unattainable level. The Tzaddik on the lower level is referred to as Tamei as compared to the new level which is called Tahor. Once he reaches the new level, his service must be performed with utter humility
as before. That is the meaning of m’tamei tahorim.
Piety and Obligation
The Sefer, Toldos Yaacov Yosef, written by R’ Yaacov Yosef of Polnoye, one of the earliest and most closely connected students of the Baal ShemTov, brings a
number of explanations of m’taher t’mayim, and m’tamei tahorim. The “Toldos” brings a Midrash from Bamidbar Rabbah (19:1). The Midrash, in discussing the concept of m’taher t’mayim, and m’tamei tahorim, quotes the
beginning of Parashat Chukas (19:2), “This is the statute of the Torah . . .”. The Midrash, in order to explain this statute of the Torah, brings a verse from Job 14:4. “Who will bring forth pure from impure if not the Only One.”
The Midrash continues by praising Hashem who is m’taher t’mayim. He brought forth Avraham Avinu from Terach the idolater. He brought forth the King Chizkiyahu, the almost Messiah from the idolatrous King Achav. Mordechai the Tzaddik, the Purim Hero came from the informer Shimi ben Gerah. The Holy Jewish people were born from the rest of the nations of the world, and He brought forth the World to Come as the destination and purpose of the present
physical world. Is it any wonder that the Red Heifer can m’taher t’mayim, and m’tamei tahorim.
The “Toldos” however, ignores the line of thought in the Midrash and delivers his own novel idea based on the verse from Job. A Jew endeavors every day to advance and improve his Avodas Hashem. On a given day he may choose to take upon himself a new service or custom, or to rededicate his efforts in the performance of a certain mitzvah. The goal, to create a closer connection with Hashem. This process of taking on something extra, or rededicating one’s energy in Avodas Hashem is called Chassidus (piety). It demonstrates his genuine desire to serve Hashem. Now, he has reached a new plateau. Tomorrow, his divine service begins from this plateau that was attained yesterday. The new custom or service becomes Avdus
(obligation). One begins today’s service from where yesterday’s left off. This, explains the “Toldos”, is the lesson learned from the verse in Job. “Who will
bring forth pure from impure. . .”, this is the one who each day adds to his divine service by making yesterday’s Chassidus today’s Avdus. If he doesn’t grow from
day to day, he is in essence, bringing forth impure from pure.
In Hebrew, “. . .if not the Only One”, is “lo echad”. The “Toldos” explains that the verse is asking, “Who will bring forth pure from impure”, who will be constantly
growing and proceeding in his Avodas Hashem, treating yesterday’s Chassidus as today’s Avdus? The answer is, “Lo Echad”, not one. The person who is not
content to remain in one fixed place, rather is constantly changing and growing in his Avodas Hashem, he is the one who is bringing forth Pure from Impure. From the Parah Adumah we therefore learn to be m’taher t’mayim, to grow and add on day by day in Avodas Hashem. To rest on the laurels of yesterday’s
spiritual achievements would be the act of m’tamei tahorim.
May we all continue to grow in the Path of Avodas Hashem.
Short Biography: R’ Yaacov Yosef of Polnoye (1705-1784), was one of the first and most dedicated of the disciples of the founder of Chassidus, the Holy Baal Shem Tov. He was already an accomplished scholar when he attached himself to the Baal Shem Tov, and his becoming a disciple engendered much controversy,
and he was even booted out of the city of Sharograd where he had been the Rabbi for a number of years. His book Toldos Yaacov Yosef (1780) was the first Chassidic work ever published.
In it repeats the phrase, “I have heard from my teacher”, 249 times. He is one of our foremost sources for teachings from the Baal Shem Tov.
If Only I Had Known . . .
The years 589-1038 CE were the height of the Dark Ages in Europe. For the Jewish people they were the Era of the Geonim, the period immediately following the closing of the Babylonian Talmud. We know of almost 100 Geonim by name. The reign of a Gaon was like the reign of a King. He was the epitome of wisdom and understanding and kindness. In an era of greatness, R’ Saadya Gaon of Sura (882-842 CE), (my 38th great grandfather) stood above all the rest. Once, R’ Saadya Gaon travelled to a distant town on a communal matter. He
arrived late at night, made his way to the local Jewish inn and requested lodging for a few nights. The innkeeper, not recognizing his guest, tossed a key at him and pointed to a room at the end of the corridor. The next morning, as the innkeeper made his way through the local shuk
(marketplace), he noticed that all the stores of the Jewish merchants were closed. He didn’t understand, he knew there wasn’t a holiday today. He made his
way to the Beit Knesset to find the entire community gathered to hear the famed R’ Saadya Gaon deliver a lecture. When the innkeeper saw that the distinguished sage was none other than his guest of the previous night, he became
disconsolate. “How could I have treated him so poorly”, he berated himself over and over.
At the end of the lecture, the innkeeper raced to the podium from were R’ Saadya was speaking, threw himself on the floor at his feet and began to wail, begging for forgiveness. “If I had only known who you were”, he sobbed repentfully, “I would
have served you differently.”
Some years later, a disciple of R’ Saadya Gaon discovered his Rebbe alone in his room weeping, lamenting and pounding his chest with his fists. The disciple didn’t reveal his presence, but looked on in wonderment and confusion. A short time later, he summoned the courage to ask R’ Saadya for an explanation of his unusual behavior. “I am trying to do Teshuva”, admitted R’ Saadya. “Surely”, protested the disciple,
“the Gaon is not in need of such Teshuva. The Gaon is engaged without interruption the entire day and night in Torah and Mitzvot. How could it be that
such Teshuva is required?” R’ Saadya Gaon sighed, smiled slowly and related the story of the innkeeper that had occurred years before. “You see”, R’ Saadya haltingly revealed, “when I reflect on my divine service, and what I have learned each day, I realize that yesterday I barely knew Hashem.” “If I had only known yesterday what I know now, how magnificent is the Master of the
World, how great His kindness, and how much are we required to praise Him and express our gratitude, I would surely have served Him differently!”

Zohar Hukkath

In the rich tapestry of Jewish tradition, the symbolism of the Red Heifer as a representation of the sentence of judgment is a topic that delves deep into the core beliefs and practices of the faith. The Red Heifer holds a unique and significant place in Jewish ritual and thought, serving as a powerful symbol of purification, atonement, and the consequences of one’s actions.

The origins of the Red Heifer sacrifice can be found in the Book of Numbers, where detailed instructions are provided for the offering of a red cow without blemish. This sacrifice was not intended for the forgiveness of sins, but rather for the purification of individuals who had come into contact with death. The ashes of the Red Heifer were mixed with water to create a purifying solution known as the “waters of purification,” which were used in cleansing rituals to remove ritual impurity.

The meticulous requirements for the Red Heifer sacrifice, including the specific color of the cow, the absence of blemishes, and the precise ritual procedures, underscore the importance and significance of this offering in Jewish tradition. The Red Heifer was considered a rare and precious commodity, symbolizing purity and perfection. Its sacrifice was a solemn and sacred act that carried deep symbolic meaning, representing a form of divine judgment, a purification of impurities, and a restoration of spiritual cleanliness.

The symbolism of the Red Heifer as a representation of judgment is multifaceted and profound. On a personal level, the Red Heifer serves as a reminder of the consequences of one’s actions and the need for purification and atonement. The ritual of the Red Heifer was a solemn and sacred process, highlighting the importance of personal responsibility, repentance, and the pursuit of spiritual purity.

Beyond the individual level, the Red Heifer also symbolizes the broader concept of divine judgment and accountability. The act of sacrificing the Red Heifer was seen as a means of atonement and cleansing, not only for individuals but for the entire community. It underscored the importance of facing judgment with humility, repentance, and a desire for spiritual renewal.

The symbolism of the Red Heifer as a representation of judgment also speaks to the concept of moral purity and the consequences of sin. In Jewish thought, the Red Heifer serves as a potent reminder of the need to strive for moral excellence, to confront the consequences of our actions, and to seek forgiveness and redemption. It underscores the belief that every action has consequences, and that true purification and atonement require introspection, accountability, and a commitment to righteousness.

In conclusion, the symbolism of the Red Heifer as a representation of the sentence of judgment in Jewish tradition is a powerful and complex concept that resonates with themes of purification, atonement, and accountability. Its role as a rare and sacred offering highlights the gravity of judgment, both divine and earthly, and serves as a poignant reminder of the consequences of our actions. The symbolism of the Red Heifer speaks to the enduring truths of Jewish faith, emphasizing the importance of personal responsibility, repentance, and the pursuit of spiritual purity in the face of judgment.

Czech Parashat

Parashat Chukat (Dinner 19.1-22,1)
Today’s parashat refers to a well-known event with Moses and Aaron, once upon a time while traveling in the desert. Nevertheless, to this day, it is a failure that has significantly affected these two extraordinary figures of our history. It has something to say to us as well. Let us first let the Torah speak:
“The whole community of Israelis arrived in the Sin desert in the first month. The people settled in Kadesh. Mirjam died there and was buried there. Commonwealth had no water. That’s why they fought against Moses and Aaron. The people got into a quarrel with Moses. And they said, “Would we also perish, when our brothers perished before the Lord.” Why have you brought the assembly of the Hashem to this desert? For us and our cattle to die here? Why have you brought us out of Egypt? To lead us to this evil place? To a place where it is not possible to sow grains or grow figs or grapes or pomegranates, there is no drinking water. So Moses and Aaron left the assembly to the entrance of the tent of meeting and fell on their faces. Here the glory of the Lord appeared to them. The Lord spoke to Moses: Take your staff, summon the company with your brother Aaron, and speak to the rock in front of their eyes to release water. So you take the water out of the rock and connect the community with their cattle. Then Moses took the staff, which was before the LORD, as he had commanded him. And Moses and Aaron called the assembly before the rock. He said to them, listen, rebels! Are we supposed to bring water out of this cliff? Then Moses raised his hand, struck twice with his stick into the rock and gushed out the stream of water, so that togetherness and their cattle drank. But the HASHEM said unto Moses and Aaron, Because ye have not believed me, when ye were to testify before the children of Israel, ye shall not bring this congregation into the land that I shall give them. These are the waters of Meríba (The waters of strife) because the Israelites contradicted themselves with the HASHEM, but he showed his holiness to them” (Bemidbar 20:1-13).
It’s a sad story to tell. People shouted at Moses something in a sense: that’s why we rang the keys? And Moses struck under that pressure the rock of which he was told to only talk to it. And thus he immediately lost the right to enter Eretz Yisrael. It’s a little fierce. In the Torah itself, the description of an event is a very short piece of the wine of Moses does not seem particularly significant. Why did the mistake entail such a punishment?
This wasn’t the first time Moses was asked to take water out of the rock. He should have done it before donating the Torah, as we read in Shemoth: “The Hashem said to Moses, Go out before the people. Take some of Israel’s elders with you. Also, take the stick you hit the Nile in your hand and go. I will stand there in front of you on the rock of Choreb. You hit a rock and water comes out of it, so people can drink. Moses did this in the eyes of the elders of Israel ” (Shemot 17:5-6).
These are the nuances between the first and second episodes that shed light on the differences between what was allowed to do to the Rock before the Torah was donated and what was allowed 40 years later, long after the Torah was delivered to the Jewish nation. And we have to ask ourselves the fundamental question again: what was the mistake? If it was possible to hit a rock the first time, why was it unforgivable the second time?
Rabbi Mendel(my 2nd cousin 22x removed), the sixteenth-century Rabbi of Cracow, believes that the difference is that while in the first case it was primarily about the need to procure drinking water in the desert, in the second case Moses and Aaron were also supposed to teach the nation of Israel a certain lesson. And Rashi(my 32nd great grandfather) comments that the lesson was something like this: You are to show the children of Israel that even the rock, which does not hear, does not speak and has no free will, is not subject to reward or punishment – it hears and fulfills G-d’s command. How much more, then, as reasonable beings with free will, with the possibility of receiving reward or punishment – are to obey G-d.
However, the Israelites could only get these lessons when Moses and Aaron talked to the rock, and not when they hit the rock and made it give water. The fact that they did not use this opportunity to impart moral lessons to the people indicates that they did not have more patience to continue with that difficult education work. And so Moses and Aaron had to be replaced by other people. It’s hard, after 40 years in the desert, when they taught people as kindergarten teachers – after all, they were teaching a nation of slaves, a wild mob, deprived of individual will and ability to decide. But it is true that in those 40 years, a completely different generation has risen there, which had free thinking. And Moses and Aaron should have already taught them by speaking to their morals, and not by “beating”. Rabbi Mendel also noticed a different description of how the water was supposed to come out of the rock. And in the second it is different, there it is written “and she releases water from herself”, so the water there, unlike the first case, was already part of that rock and it was enough to talk to it.
Our morality – as Rabbi Mendel said – means we are like a rock. Our heart is like a rock – locked, sealed, and there seems to be no way to break it to get information into it. We feel that perhaps the only way to achieve this is to hit. But that’s not the way – as Rabbi Mendel taught 400 years ago – you are supposed to talk to him, to your rock, to your hard heart. Water is inside, in the middle, ask your heart to give it to you. Torah has been shaping us for generations. Even our communication with each other should be easier to be worthy of Torah. So that our task does not have to be taken over by someone else, be more patient.