After 66 Shabbatot online, we have learned just how essential community is for sustaining and nourishing our spirits.
Parashat Chukat
Our parashah this week, Chukat, is a full one. We pick up in the fortieth year since the Exodus from Egypt---38 years after the stories we read in last week's parashah. The parashah talks about the Parah Adumah, the Red Heifer, which is needed for purification from the most severe impurities. It describes Moses' frustration with the Israelites' complaints about a lack of water, leading him to hit a rock instead of speaking to it. We read about nations that don't want to let the Israelites pass through. We learn that Aaron is old and near death, necessitating a transfer of authority to his son Eleazar. We hear of another Israelite rebellion that gets punished with a snake attack. And finally, the parashah ends with the Israelites encamping in the hill country of Moab, opposite Jericho, where they will stay through the end of the Torah. Oh, and Miriam dies.
With such a full parashah, with such extensive descriptions about how Aaron’s leadership and authority as Kohen haGadol, the High Priest, get transferred before he dies, you might expect something similar for Miriam’s death. But no. Miriam’s death merits less than half a verse. It’s barely a footnote as the scene opens on the first month of the 40th year since the Israelites left Egypt.
The ancient rabbis don’t actually like that Miriam gets so little honor, so they use an interpretive technique called “smichut parashiyot” or the principle of adjacent passages. As the name suggests, the rabbis read two adjacent texts as related rather than simply next to each other. We see this also around the Akeidah, the Binding of Isaac. The next thing that happens is that Sarah dies, so the rabbis interpret her death as having been caused by hearing that Abraham almost sacrificed her only child. We see Smichut Parashiyot with the deaths of Aaron’s eldest sons, Nadav and Avihu. They brought a strange fire to the Tabernacle, got zapped, and then the next line is about not entering the Tabernacle while intoxicated. Therefore, we should understand that Nadav and Avihu’s crime was bringing offerings while drunk.
In our text, Miriam’s death is followed immediately by the Israelites complaining about a lack of water. They also complain that there aren’t any figs or pomegranates or grain or grapes - but mostly that there’s no water. They wonder why they’ve been sent out to this wilderness to die. Using the principle of Smichut Parashiyot, the rabbis understand this lack of water as the result of Miriam’s death. They say that Miriam had access to a special well of water that traveled with her throughout the journey in the wilderness. When she died, the well disappeared, leaving the community without water.
I think the Israelites’ physical thirst is accompanied by a thirst for Miriam’s presence. She, Aaron, and Moses -- the three siblings -- serve as leaders of the Israelite community in different capacities. Moses serves as political and military leader. Aaron takes on the ritual and religious leadership. Miriam leads as a nurturer and spiritual caretaker. Upon her death, no one is left to fill that role; her love, her care, and her compassion disappear along with her well. Without that spiritual and emotional support, the sense of community crumbles. Everyone turns inwards instead of sharing her legacy with each other.
The COVID-19 pandemic, which forced us into physical isolation, could have done the same thing to our Temple Sinai community. We might have focused on our own individual needs and lashed out in frustration and fear against this community that tries to support us. Instead, we had professional and lay leadership that ensured that we could maintain spiritual and social connections even while we were physically distanced. And as important as our formal leaders are, our community has been even more blessed by all of you who stepped up to make those connections. We have thirsted for this moment of being together in-person, but we never let each other thirst for community.
On this first Shabbat back in our building, after 66 Shabbatot online, I want to thank all of you -- those who are here in person and those of you who are still joining us online -- for your patience, for your kindness, and most of all for supporting this community through this extraordinarily difficult time. You were not the rebellious, self-centered Israelites of our parashah, but instead have been the inheritors of Miriam’s legacy. Together, we have made it through the worst, and, with love and compassion and kindness, we will reach the other side stronger and full of hope with what we can create. And may the blessings that have flowed through you to our community during this wilderness year sustain and nourish you as well. Kein y’hi ratzon.
Comments