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Last week, (parshat Korach), we concluded that everyone must want to be the Cohen Gadol (high priest), even though in reality only one person can perform the task. The high priest may never leave the Temple (except to go home), and we also must wish to cleave to the One above all the time, even though this is virtually impossible. In fact, we have to be involved in the physical creation, elevating and refining it, and none of us can do that while cleaving to G-d. Our job is to do mitzvoth and to learn Torah hour by hour, day by day, week by week, while occasionally also throwing all caution to the wind and going “all out” in our service of G-d. Our physical mitzvoth and Torah learning refine and elevate the world. However, we also need the occasional experience of G-dly revelation in order to maintain our motivation and inspiration.
This theme continues into this week’s parsha, Chukat. King Solomon, wisest of all men, investigated the mitzvah of parah aduma (red heifer) that appears in our parsha and failed to understand it. But eight generations earlier, Moshe received this mitzvah and did understand it. Moshe was the one who first received the commandment to compose the ashes of the red heifer, which are used to purify us from the impurity associated with death, and it was he who first put it into action. In fact, the ashes of all subsequent red heifers (there have been nine of them so far, and a tenth will be enacted when the Meshiach arrives) contained the ashes of Moshe’s first red heifer. What Moshe didn’t understand was, how could there be any rectification for death. Physical death is the separation of the body from the soul. Spiritual death is the separation of the soul from the One above, and Moshe couldn’t see how it might be possible to correct this problem.
There are two questions regarding the red heifer. One, why was it necessary for the ashes of Moshe’s initial red heifer to be present in all subsequent red heifers. Two, why was Moshe granted understanding of this mitzvah, something that even the wisest of all men, King Solomon, was denied?
By way of explanation, the red heifer was given from Above as an atonement for the sin of the golden calf. In fact, that is why the red heifer is a female sacrifice, while all other offerings are male. As the sages said (Midrash Tanhuma on Chukat, ch. 8), “Let the female cow come as an atonement for the sin of the calf.” The sin was committed with a calf, so let a mother cow be the atonement.
If it weren’t for the sin of the calf, there would be no such thing as death. At the time the Torah was given, all spiritual impurity was erased from the world, leaving the creation similar to the time of Adam, the first man, during which there was no death (before he and Chava sinned by eating from the tree of knowledge). At the giving of the Torah, all spiritual impurity was again erased, but the sin of the calf brought it back again, and death followed as a result. Where we find disconnection from G-d, we also find death. And, as Rashi tells us in his commentary on the Torah, death will be present in the world until the advent of the messianic era. It is only with the arrival of the Jewish messiah that all impurity will be cleansed from the world, once and for all, and therefore death will be erased. Until then, Rashi explains, G-d applies the atonement for the golden calf slowly, generation by generation. And that is why a little bit of the original ashes of the red heifer must be present in every subsequent red heifer; the long-term atonement for the golden calf takes place year after year until the meshiach arrives.
However, you could ask, that only explains why we need the ashes of the red heifer throughout Jewish history, until meshiach arrives. Why, though do we specifically need the ashes of the original red heifer, first offered by Moshe? The answer lies in the unique quality of Moshe – his ability go give of himself totally and unqualifiedly. It was Moshe who taught all Jews the quality of mesirat nephesh, or unequivocal self-sacrifice. Without thinking of himself at all, Moshe demanded from G-d to take his name out of the Torah unless G-d accepted the erev rav, or mixed multitude of Jewish converts who came out of Egypt with the exodus (and who were responsible for the golden calf). Without thinking of himself and his own spiritual status, he demanded equal acceptance for every Jew. Since then, his style of selfless commitment to the Jewish people and to the One above has been part of the Jewish self-preservation in every generation. We don’t only think about ourselves. We take every Jew in every generation into account. In that sense, Moshe is with us throughout Jewish history, and that is why the ashes of the original red heifer, offered by Moshe must be included in every red heifer that is offered until and including that of the Meshiach.
In order to clarify the quality of self-sacrifice, it’s helpful to look closer at the details of the red heifer. The priest (or whoever performed the process) took some of the ashes of the red heifer and sprinkled them on the person who had become contaminated by contact with death. The person receiving the sprinkling then became pure, but the one doing the sprinkling became impure. In other words, the “sprinkler” gave up his own spiritual status in order to lift up another Jew and connect him to G-d. (Of course, this was temporary, since he subsequently also attained purification). Similarly, in our generation of spiritual isolation and absence of connection, it’s sometimes necessary to temporarily give up our own spiritual status and focus on another Jew. Once he is connected, we can then go back to our own needs. But, we can’t be satisfied until every Jew is connected. That’s the quality of selflessness that was bequeathed to us by Moshe Rabeinu. It’s not something that we can put in action at all times, but nevertheless, it’s there in potential in the Jewish soul when we need it.
Returning to the original point, none of us can maintain selflessness and mesirat nephesh forever. We’re not on the level of the Cohen Gadol, who cleaved to G-d at all times. Our main avoda (service) is to refine and elevate the physical world, and that’s why we plug away at Torah and mitzvoth, day after day, week after week, and year after year. However, there is one time of the day that we can give ourselves away completely, forgetting about ourselves and our egos and connecting with the One above. That time is during tefila, or prayer in the morning. That’s the time that we can meditate on G-dliness, arouse the dormant love for G-d that is in our souls, and connect to Him with our hearts, our souls (G-dly and natural), and with the very essence of our being. Afterward, we can proceed to the Beit Midrash (house of Torah study) or to work, and go through the daily routine. It’s not the time for cleaving to G-d, but if we managed to pray with some mesirat nephesh during morning prayers, then the daily routine becomes imbued with self-sacrifice and connection with G-d. Just as the ashes of the original red heifer permeated all red heifers to come, so our prayers at the beginning of the day penetrate and permeate all of our avoda for the rest of the day. Even though we are involved in the physical world, we are able to connect all that we are doing with the One above as well.
From Likutei Sichot of the Lubavitcher Rebbe ztz’l, vol. 33, pp. 127-130 Rabbi David Sterne, Jerusalem Connection in the Old city of Jerusalem