Life's Passages
Wellsprings of Devotion

The conversation had repeated itself so many times, Sara could almost predict the exact dialogue.

She and Barry would be having a difference of opinion, each seeing the matter from their own perspective. He would explain to her the rational merits of his position. She would counter by elaborating on why, from her experience, he erred and it should be done her way.

Whether it was a repair project, a special favor, or a purchase for their home, the particulars didn't matter. Nor was it relevant whether it was something big or something small; the pattern consistently repeated itself.

Eventually the couple's difference of opinion would escalate into a full blown disagreement, with Barry adamantly refusing Sara's request and even dismissing it as trivial or pointless.

Invariably, Sara would end up sulking, Barry would put on a cold, indifferent demeanor, and the task that Sara had requested would remain undone.

Then one day, Sara tried a different approach.

This time, Sara didn't debate the merits of her perspective. She didn't even explain why she wanted or needed the particular thing done "her way."

Instead, Sara stated her request and then simply said: "Honey, I know you this isn't the way you see it. But please, do it just for me!"

Barry's reaction astonished her. He gazed at her rather intently and then agreeably acquiesced.

While watching Barry wordlessly doing what she had asked, Sara had time to think about her new approach.

It dawned on her that while she did not explain the logic of her request, it underlined why in fact she was expecting something of Barry to begin with. By asking Barry to "do it for me", Sara brought to light the very core of their relationship, irrespective of any specific issue. It brought to the surface a far greater bond between her and Barry than any logical discussion could ever have--their essential connection. A connection so deep it surpassed reason and logic.

This week's parshah is called Chukat, "Decree"--a word taken from its introductory sentence:

"And G-d spoke to Moses and Aaron saying: 'This is the decree of the Torah which G-d has commanded." (Numbers 10:1-2)

Rashi comments:

This is the statute of the Torah -- Because Satan and the nations of the world taunt Israel saying, "What is the commandment and what purpose does it have?" Therefore the Torah uses the term "statute." I have decreed it; and You have no right to challenge it or speculate on it.

The commandments of the Torah fall into three general categories.

1. Mishpatim, "judgments," are those laws that the human mind would have conceived on its own, even if the Torah had not commanded it. Examples are moral laws such as the prohibition against murder or robbery.

2. Eidot, "testimonials," are laws whose function is understandable even if we would not have formulated it by ourselves. Examples are laws that celebrate or remember a particular event or passage of time such as the Shabbat or the festivals.

Our connection with G-d goes beyond the constructs of logic, meaning or purpose

3. Chukim, "decrees," are supra-rational laws that defy logic and must be observed with simple kabbalat ol, acceptance of G-d's will. Examples of these are the laws of ritual purity and impurity, such as the incomprehensible laws of the red heifer mentioned in the beginning of the parshah of Chukat.

The Chassidic masters tell us, however, that in truth, every mitzvah is a chok, an expression of our Creator's will. It is only that many of the mitzvot are enclothed in varying degrees of rationality. We can appreciate them in a rational context, realizing how they enhance our lives by introducing more spirituality or morality. What distinguishes the chok is that it comes to us pure, without any rational "garments." It transcends our conscious powers, and touches us to the core.

The chok introduces an element of absoluteness into our lives, bringing to light a life that is devoted to the singular fulfillment of our Creator's will. Chukim remind us that we are committed to do the commandments only and simply because we are committed to by G-d, Who cannot be grasped by any mortal intellect.

Though we need to live lives of reason, priorities and understanding, chukim remind us that we also need those moments and situations that help us reach an underlying truth. While the rational is limited to each individual's experience and conception of reality, there is a deeper, fundamental bond, an infinite bond that unites us with our Creator and His will.

And that is a bond that is not something that any circumstances--any challenges, speculations or taunts (such as described in the above-quoted commentary by Rashi)-- can ever interfere with. By performing the chukim we are showing that our connection with G-d goes beyond the constructs of logic, meaning or purpose. It is an attachment that reaches the very core of our relationship--the part of us that feels so united with G-d that we do the chukim simply because He asks us to do them.

Perhaps this is the connection of the laws of chukim to another momentous event recorded in this week's parshah--the death of the righteous Miriam and with it the departure of the miraculous well that had nourished the Jewish people in Miriam's merit.

And Miriam died there... And there was no water for the congregation (Numbers 20:1-2)

Three great providers arose for the people of Israel--Moses, Aaron and Miriam--through whom they received three great gifts: the well, the clouds of glory, and the manna. The well was in the merit of Miriam, the clouds in the merit of Aaron, and the manna in the merit of Moses.

A gulp of water is tastier than the most delectable wine

When Miriam died, the well was removed, as it says, "And Miriam died there..." and, immediately afterward, "And there was no water for the congregation." The well then reappeared in the merit of the other two. (Talmud, Taanit 9a)

Miriam's association with the thirst-quenching waters of the well that she bequeathed to her people can perhaps be understood by exploring the spiritual significance of water.

Water is tasteless, scentless and colorless. But it is also the basic requisite of life. On a spiritual level, water represents the unadorned yet fundamental and crucial kabbalat ol--our simple acceptance of G-d's will and the yoke of Heaven.

Water is unlike any other liquid. Chassidic teaching speaks of two modes of Divine service--"water" and "wine." Wine is pleasing to the eye, nose and palate, intoxicating and exhilarating. On a spiritual level, wine represents the gratifying aspect of our divine service--the joy, fulfillment, depth of understanding and meaning that we experience in our relationship with G-d.

Yet while wine can be so pleasing, to a thirsty individual, a gulp of water is tastier than the most delectable wine.

In a spiritual sense, when we recognize how much our soul thirsts for G-d, simply performing His will for no reason other than it is His will is the most gratifying experience. When we are not motivated by our personal sense of spiritual fulfillment, nor our intellectual enjoyment, but simply because we want to be attached to something greater than ourselves--we have revealed our absolute connection and bond with G-d.

Miriam demonstrated this absolute negation of reason in order to perform G-d's will from the youngest age, even while in the bitter Egyptian exile. Her heroism came to light as a youngster when she defied King Pharaoh's decree of killing the newborn boys. She and her mother risked their lives because they "feared G-d and did not act as the King of Egypt commanded them" (Exodus 1:8).

The Midrash explains that Miriam courageously confronted her own father who had separated from her mother as a result of Pharaoh's wicked decree. She convinced him that he must follow G-d's command unquestioningly, including the precept of "be fruitful and multiply" (Genesis 9:1).

The basis of her argument was that even if it didn't make sense, we must do G-d's will because it is His will, irrespective of logic or consequences.

Miriam's father recognized the truth and sincerity of his young daughter's words and the result of her actions was ultimately the birth of Moses.

Within the deep bitterness of the Egyptian exile, Miriam intuitively understood the simple truth--that our relationship with G-d is not dependent on our circumstances, personal likes or logical comprehension.

The message of Miriam's life, as reflected in the miraculous well of water that was provided for the nation in her merit, contains the same message as the chukim of the Torah. We are not in this relationship with G-d only during the good times of our lives, when we discern personal gain, growth or gratification.

Our relationship with G-d is one that can even surface in the depths of the Egyptian exile, in the depths of our personal darkness and incomprehension. Because as basic and crucial as water is for our survival, this, too, is a relationship that touches the very core of our being--the very essence of who and what we are.