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 as G-d had commanded, and though water rushes forth, he is told he will not enter the Promised Land. Later, Aaron dies and the community mourns.
Oh yes, one other thing occurs in Parshat Chukat – Moses and Aaron are taught, at the beginning of the parsha, 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 corpse. This ritual is considered to be one of the most mysterious in the Torah, for though it is designed to purify those who come into contact with a corpse, it will also render those who have touched the mixture to purify others unclean for the remainder of the day.
Like most, 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 by nationally recognized Jewish educator Harlene Appelman allowed me to turn the Torah just a bit and see this puzzle in a different light.
Let me begin with a story that though now more than a few years old, continues to always come to mind when I think of this parsha. Picture, if you will, a snowy, cold January Sunday morning in Syracuse. It is 8am. Though I had woken up excited about my upcoming baby/toddler group session, I have already wrestled with my pre-teen 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 roads to synagogue. Once we arrive, we schlep the materials in (not without a “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 somewhere (lest I ask him for more help).
Back downstairs I go – to the library to choose and bring up books for parents and little ones, and then to the babysitting room to gather some toys. Back upstairs, I lay out the materials in an engaging way, then grab the handouts I want to copy and back downstairs I go. Of course, the copier jams – sigh.
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. I do a final room check and pop a bit of Jewish children’s music in the CD player; the atmosphere is just right for babies, toddlers, moms and dads. Oops – forgot to grab the materials for our art project so I make yet another trip down and up the stairs.
By now, other 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 is time for me to go up to greet the early arrivals to my group.
As I head upstairs (again) to do so, a child comes by to share a hug, a parent has a question, and the temple administrator needs me to clarify plans for an upcoming program. I am now officially “late,” despite having arrived well over an hour and a half early so that I could be relaxed and organized.
I awoke eager to 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.
Yet, as I run upstairs and towards the room, I pause outside the door and I take a peek inside. I see a mother sitting with her toddler son as they share snuggles and 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, I do not need to be coated in a mixture of ashes, nor does it take until nightfall for me to be able to feel cleansed and ready to enter this holy space. I can take a breath, enter the room and join in the joy as I see the fruits of my labor take hold in the light and conversations around me.
I realized then and still recall today that though what I had done that morning, and in the prior days of preparation had not always felt like “holy work,” it had a different effect on the people in this room, and on those I had helped and hugged throughout the morning.
As we move through our days each of us must complete tasks that seem less important; jobs that do not leave us feeling purified. Yet, someone needs to set the tables for the Shabbat dinner and someone needs to clean up afterwards. Clothes need to be washed, groceries purchased, homes, offices and synagogues cleaned, bills paid, and plans made.
Perception is critical. If we “turn our view” just a bit and focus on the joy that comes from these seemingly mundane tasks, perhaps we will see the holy in the ordinary. Then, Chukat will be less of a conundrum, for we will come to understand that every aspect of our days offers the potential to help us find the holiness in ourselves once again.
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