Much happens in Parshat Chukat, Miriam dies. Moses, still grieving for his sister and stressing under his long held burden of leading a quarrelsome, complaining group, hits the rock instead of ordering it to bring forth water, and though water rushes forth, he is told he will not enter the Promised Land. Later, Aaron dies and the Israelites are victorious in a number of battles.
Oh yes, one other thing occurs in Parshat Chukat – Moses and Aaron are instructed by G-d on how to make a special mixture from the ashes of a red heifer and water. This mixture is to be used to purify those who come into contact with a corpse. This ritual is considered to be one of the most mysterious in the Torah, for while it is designed to purify those who come into contact with a corpse, those involved in the creation of the mixture are rendered unclean for the remainder of the day.
Like many who read this text, I had always seen this as a conundrum – how can something purify some and make others unclean at the same time – especially those charged with the duty of purifying the unclean? Then, a number of years ago, a chance comment made by nationally recognized Jewish educator Harlene Appelman about the sacredness of schlepping cookies for a program by allowed me to turn the Torah just a bit and see this puzzle in a different light.
Let me begin with a story – a bit of reality, if you will. Picture a snowy, cold January Sunday morning in Syracuse. It is 8am. Though I had woken up excited about my upcoming baby/toddler group program, I have already wrestled with my son a number of times – first to get him up, then to get him to walk the dog, and then to help him to understand that “yes, life is sometimes not fair, but because mom is a Jewish educator and has a program to run this morning, you do need to leave an hour early for Sunday school.”
That argument over, we schlep three bags and a CD player out to the car and head down snowy Rt. 81 to synagogue. Once we arrive, we then schlep the materials in (not without yet another discussion first, of course) and upstairs to the room our baby/toddler group will meet in. Furniture is not arranged quite as I would like it to be, so I move chairs and tables around – along with picking up my son’s coat which he had unceremoniously dropped in the middle of the floor before heading off to hide somewhere (lest I ask him for more help).
Then it is down to the library to choose and bring up books for parents and little ones, and off to the babysitting room to gather some toys. Back upstairs, I lay out the materials in a welcoming way that invites exploration, then grab the handouts I want to copy and head off to do that. Of course, the copier jams – what else is new.
Copies made – finally – I am off to get coffee for parents, to get juice and cups for the little ones and to get a snack ready. Final room check – things look good. I pop a bit of Jewish children’s music in the CD player and the atmosphere is just right for babies, toddlers, moms and dads. Oops – forgot to grab the materials for our art project. One more trip down and up the stairs…
By now, our religious school teachers have arrived. Colleagues stop me in the hall to chat or to ask a question. One wants me to help her find the right story for her class that day – so together we head to the library. As we sign out the book, students and parents start arriving. It’s time for me to simultaneously greet all of our families and encourage those with little ones to head up to explore our space.
A child comes by who wants a hug, a parent wants to ask a question, and the temple administrator needs me to clarify plans for an upcoming program. I am now officially late for the program I had arrived to set up an hour and a quarter earlier. I come early so that I can be relaxed and organized. Yet, as often happens, I am late and more than a bit frazzled.
I had gotten up this morning eager to create a sacred space and facilitate sacred time – a special Jewish moment – between parents and their young children. But, I am not feeling very holy after the hectic pace of the last few hours.
But, then, after running up to the room, I pause outside the door and I take a peek inside. I see a mother sitting with her toddler son – together they are reading a story. A father is sprawled out on the floor with his baby, playing with a set of Jewish stacking blocks. Another mom is browsing through a set of Jewish music CDs, writing down titles she wants to purchase. Two parents are making plans to get together after the next Tot Shabbat while their children chatter about Shabbat ritual objects that fit in the puzzle in front of them.
This is the elixir I need to make me feel pure again. Fortunately, it does not take until nightfall for me to be able to feel cleansed and ready to enter this holy space. I can enter the room and join in the joy – I can see the fruits of my labor take hold in the light and conversations around me. I realize though what I had done this morning, and in the days past, to prepare for this moment might not have felt like “holy work” – and might have made me feel less than cleansed, it indeed had the opposite effect on others.
Each of us has tasks that seem less important – tasks that leave us feeling frazzled rather than refreshed and cleansed. Yet, someone needs to set the tables for the Shabbat dinner and someone needs to clean up afterwards. Someone needs to wash the clothes, clean the house and synagogue, shop for the food, and so on. If we can focus on the joy that the results of these tasks bring, perhaps we can see the holy in the ordinary. Then, Chukat will be less of a conundrum, for we will come to understand that work that may make us feel less than holy brings holiness to others, and knowing that, we can find the holiness in ourselves once again.
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