Parashat Hukkat: Mourning Becomes Eternal

The early 20th century Jewish existentialist philosopher Franz Rosenzweig believed that the knowledge of our mortality is the ultimate negative force in our lives.  The fact that we know we shall eventually die hangs over us like a cloud, if we let it.  However, it is love that is the ultimate positive force in our lives.  It is the existence of love that allows, and even compels, us to live life in spite of the knowledge of our mortality.

Hopefully, most of us don't spend our lives constantly thinking about our ultimate end.  Rather, Rosenzweig believed that the ultimate goal is to live a life dedicated to the love of God.  This goal is achieved, in good part, by loving our fellow human beings.  In loving,  we are able to find goodness and hope. 

I agree with Rosenzweig in the power of love to create meaning in our lives in spite of the knowledge that we will die.  However, it is also true that we all eventually begin to face our own mortality as we age.  In part, this process begins as we start facing the death of those whom we love.  For if we love, we shall indeed be destined to mourn and grieve the loss of our loved ones. And this reminds us our our own eventual demise.

In many ways, I see this as being at the heart of this  week's parashah, Hukkat  (Bemidbar/Numbers 19:122:1).  The parashah begins with the description of the ritual slaughter of the red heifer by Eleazar the priest. The ashes of the heifer are then to be mixed together with water, hyssop, crimson thread and other ingredients in order to make a solution that will be used to purify those who have become tamei/ritually impure (for lack of a better translation) through contact with a corpse.  And so, our ancestors were prepared for the process of purification that would take place after literally handling death in the community and in their families.

Immediately following this we read of the death of Miriam the prophet, sister of Moses and Aaron. After her death the people cry out to Moses that they have no water to drink. This passage may well be one of the origins of the ancient rabbinic legend of Miriam’s Well.  This was a well of fresh water which would spring up by Miriam's tent wherever the people camped.  It was water from this well, a reward for Miriam's role in the redemption from Egypt, which sustained the people through their years in the desert.  However, it would seem, that the water ceased to flow following Miriam’s death.

As the people cry out for water to the bereaved Moses and Aaron, God instructs them to speak to a rock in order to bring forth water. Instead of following God's instructions, Moses and Aaron gather the people together and then Moses strikes the rock with his rod to bring forth water. It is because of this that God punishes Moses by forbidding him to enter the Promised Land.

Following this episode, we then read of Aaron’s death, for which the people mourn for thirty days.  After the period of mourning the people begin to complain again that they should have remained in Egypt rather than living such a harsh life in the wilderness. 

This parashah is one of great loss for Moses. Not only does he lose his only siblings, but he also loses the right to enter the Promised Land at the end of the journey. Suddenly, Moses comes to realize how alone he is in the world.
It is true that he has a wife and two sons, but the two people who were by his side during the journey, even when they may have disagreed, were now gone. Beyond this, the people continue to complain, and do not allow him time to grieve.

In the poetic commentary below, I imagine how Moses might have felt at the moment when he was finally left alone by his complaining people and allowed to face his loss and his grief.  I have published this poem twice before on this blog.  Yet, each time it is a little different, just as our own mourning over loss changes over time and even from moment to moment.

I first published this poem on my blog and dedicated it to the memory of my beloved father, Alvin Nathan z”l (may his memory be a blessing), whose  yahrtzeit (anniversary of his death) will be observed later this month.  Since then, other family members, friends and acquaintances, as well as so many others, have left this world.  Many of these deaths took place during July and August. Perhaps that is why each year when we reach this parashah I am drawn back to the poem.  Actually, I haven't written an original commentary on this parashah in many years for that reason.

And so, I dedicate this poem not only to the loved ones I have lost, but to the communal losses we have felt this past year.  I dedicate to the victims of war and terror attacks, including the far-too-many killed in schools, malls and movie theaters.  To those killed by hurricane, flood and tornado and to all who have left this world since the last time I published this poem.  May their memories always be a blessing.

The poem may change slightly from year to year, but it's essence remains the same.

Shabbat Shalom,

SPN

waters of grief

I am alone  they are gone

my families

those I knew in the palaces of  egypt

            and those I came to know as an adult are no more

  in what seems like a single unending moment

both brother and sister    are gone

   I had no time to mourn her

       before he then left this world

leaving me     utterly    infinitely   alone

closing my eyes   I can see water

      life-giving waters

  death-cleansing waters

water bringing death to egypt

      water gushing from the rock

          water in the tears streaming down my face

two holes pierce my heart and soul

   two wholes are no more   they are gone

       leaving me broken    in pieces        in solitude

the people      do not understand

they only want     need     desire    demand

water   food    meat

            the false comforts of egypt

I simply  want them  to leave me   alone

I want to mourn

                   I  want to wail  

          to tear at my hair  flesh  clothes

  to scream

     or simply to weep

in this moment

  I want simply to be

man brother son  human
not  leader teacher emissary prophet
but nothing in life is ever simple

I wish to drown myself

         in waters of sorrow

emerging cleansed

              perhaps someday

miriam understood

     her name meant bitter waters

    she knew the bitter and the sweet

prophet leader singer visionary

            jealous judgmental unyielding

      always passionate and caring

she received her punishment

        skin white as snow

cleansed only by isolation

    and bitter salt water tearsshe received her reward      as did the people

      as the waters of her well sustained us all

when she died    the well dried up    the water ceased to rise

       instead tears screams complaints

            flowed in torrents

     from the people

 replacing its gentle flow

    they want

        they need  more

            nothing ever enough

God said to me   to aaron

      speak to the rock

         it will give you

what     they think     they need

still in mourning

I   we cannot talk

      to people or rock

I   we can only

          scream in silence

      strike the rock

   bringing forth living water

sealing  our fate   our death

now he too is gone

    the one who was my voice before pharaoh

          with whom I could always speak from the heart

              even after he had turned away from me

          angry jealous frustrated

only to turn return
to forgive  each other

no water can cleanse my grief

through eyes filled with anger  pain   isolation

     I see red

         heifer hyssop thread

              blood life death

      mixed with miriam’s water

 divine magic

        purifying those who

touch  feel  witness     death

I cannot be purified

death has touched

not merely   my body

        but   my soul

    I thirst  for life    for water   for them

but nothing     can comfort me

I want to die

to be with them

    instead I must  be with the people

my people     no     God’s people

until we reach the jordan’s waters

  only then will I finally rest

      only then can I be me

        brother son father husband

     no longer alone

dwelling with God

      with them

 souls immersed   in holy waters

of the divine spirit         God’s shekhinah

birthing me

         into new life

     together

   with them

  with all

at One

for eternity