My Uncle Herman is an extraordinary man. Born in Lebanon to two holocaust survivors that had fought their way to British Mandate lands in the hope of getting to the UK, he went on to be a highly respected immunologist at Oxford University, he has invented vaccines and conducted life changing research. At Ben Gurion he is regularly asked why he was born in Lebanon. He informs them that he wished to be close to his mother. Occasionally this gets a smile. Not often. His Jewish life has been, let’s say, on the lite side, yet despite doing very little, he identifies proudly as a Jew. So I was a little surprised at my dad’s funeral nearly 19 years ago, to be asked by Herman ‘Debbie, should I stay outside because I’m a Cohen’. Firstly I was pretty astonished to discover he was a Cohen, then I was amused that this was the one thing he had decided to worry about in his Jewish observance. I have to admit that despite the brevity of the day, I couldn’t resist teasing my Uncle: ‘Herman, if you are our hope for the Priesthood, we’re pretty much doomed’. The choices we make about what is meaningful to us Jewishly can often be irrational, but this week’s special additional portion is the Jewish example extraordinaire of this, and helps explain Uncle Hermans worry.
The Red Heffer, a pure red cow, with not one hair a different colour, that has no blemishes and has never worked a day of its life, is sacrificed and entirely burnt. It’s ashes are mixed with water and then become a mixture that is used in ritually purifying the Israelites from Tumat -Met – an impurity caused by contact with dead bodies. This impurity is particularly problematic for those in charge of leading the rituals of the ancient Temple, and hence the taboo on Cohanim entering cemeteries. The law seems to me to be a clever bit of public health policy on the part of the Israelites. Touching the dead is likely to be dangerous, so let’s encourage people to not do that with an overly complicated, difficult to source, ritual.
It makes the pure impure and the impure pure. The torah itself describes this ritual as a chok – a law that cannot be explained rationally. And yet for hundreds of years plenty of Rabbis have tried to do just that. My own gloss is the public health one. Ramban, a 13th century Catalan, suggests that the ashes and water purifies a person by removing their association with sin. But he doesn’t explain how! Sforno, from 16th century Italy, presents a more symbolic suggestion. He argues that the cedar wood added to the fire represents pride, and the hyssop represents humility. The scarlet thread, which is also thrown into the fire, represents sin. This means that the final mixture represents pride, humility and sin, and the ritual itself pulls the sinner back from the evil of pride and back towards humility. The ashes that are placed on the person are a symbol of their repentance having been arrogant enough to touch a dead body. I’m not sure I’m following entirely either don’t worry.
Rabbi Joseph Becor Shor, from 12th Century France, explains it in a way that makes a lot more sense to me personally. He argues it is a natural instinct to cling to loved ones when they are gone, and to hold them for a final time, even though it might have been dangerous. He suggests that the defiling nature of corpses and the ritual itself are designed to warn Jews against becoming focused on the dead rather than on this life, and pushes us to avoid falling into ancestor worship. We know when we have lost someone that it can be a challenge to let them go. But Judaism wants us to continue living this life as well as we can for as long as we can, and this is part of that challenge. I think I’m personally most in agreement with Rabbi Becor Shor
More recently (1985), Dr Robert Kunin argued that our biblical ancestors understood the technology that could filter polluted water. He writes:
“A chemist analysing this ritual carefully soon realizes that the mixture of ashes is a mixture of granular and powdered activated carbonaceous absorbents capable of removing practically all known toxins, viruses, and pollutants, including radioactivity”
So is the ritual of the red Heffer, a Chok, an unexplainable law? Is it rooted in an ancient understanding of Science? Or is it a way to help us ritualise the need to mourn death but to continue living fully in this world? Even when we are told that something can’t be explained and we should just trust it’s the right way to go, Jewish tradition spends thousands of years turning and wrestling with the idea to try and discover how to make sense of it. Or perhaps the wrestling and grappling is the point. We want the world to make sense, even when it is dazzlingly confusing and overwhelming. We all wrestle to find how events can be meaningful to us, and Judaism never leaves us stuck with just one path or one explanation. It takes leg work to find the path that is our own, but just as Joey did today with his beautiful d’var torah, thousands of years of turning torah are there to help us find our story and our Judaism within. Like my Uncle Herman you may feel really attached to a particular thing that makes no real sense, or you may work really hard to ensure every Jewish choice you make is engaging and personal. And all of that comes to live together in community, where we work to support one another through whatever life throws at us and whatever we are wrestling with. For me the Red Heffer is a reminder that we have to embrace this life and live it as well as we can for as long as we can. I look forward to hearing what it will mean for each of you!
Shabbat Shalom
