Drash on Parshat Chukat

Rabbi Allison RH Conyer

Temple Beth Israel, Melbourne

Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble – Unexpected Rituals for Emotional Healing

Rabbi Allison RH Conyer

Temple Beth Israel, Melbourne

What do the ashes of a red heifer and a fiery serpent have in common? Aside from appearing in this week’s Torah portion—Parshat Chukat—these unusual symbols and accounts offer profound insight into emotional and spiritual healing. They transform physical rituals into moments of inner restoration, inviting us to face loss, fear, and doubt with courage and clarity.

The parsha commences with the ritual of פָּרָה אֲדֻמָּה (parah adumah – the red heifer), whereby the cow is burned in its entirety – hide, flesh, blood and dung  – along with cedar wood, hyssop, and “crimson stuff”; its ashes are mixed with water to purify anyone who has come into contact with a dead body (Numbers 19:5–6).

What might appear to be a primitive witchcraft brew concocted to ward off evil spirits that contaminate the human soul, or some arcane mixture to ward off death’s impurity, may reveal a deeper meaning lurking beneath this unusual biblical ritual. Rashi, our most revered Rabbinic sage, connects the red heifer to the sin of the golden calf, suggesting that its ashes serve as a humbling ritual to cleanse the arrogance that once led the people to worship a false god.

Inspired by Rashi and insights from grief counselling, I offer another interpretation. The ritual of the parah adumah was designed to transform one’s spiritual state from “טָמֵא” (tamei – spiritual impurity) – feeling tainted, blemished, broken – to that of “טָהוֹר” (tahor – spiritual purity) – feeling clear, strong, whole – reflecting one’s inner journey when confronting death.

Each element of the ritual tells its own story:

The cedar wood represents strength and endurance as it stands tall and weathers life’s storms. At times, our grief can threaten to uproot our stability; and yet, we are stronger than we think, rooted in memories that enable our continued growth and life.
The hyssop represents flexibility and beauty that remains close to its source. When we deal with death, we must also be accepting of ourselves and others, moving with the everchanging flow of emotions that come with grief, remembering always that the beauty shared by those we’ve lost remain with us, connecting us to the source of love we shared.
The “crimson stuff” represents the anger that often masks our sadness – a  visceral reaction to the depth of our loss. This red thread ties us down, as our pain can hold us back, impeding our process of acceptance and healing. But just as the thread binds, so too can it be loosened. We must allow ourselves to feel the depths of grief so we can eventually move forward.
Later in the parsha, we read about הַנְּחָשִׁ֣ים הַשְּׂרָפִ֔ים – the fiery snakes (Num. 21:6) and their deadly bites to those who complained and spoke against G-d. After the Israelites begged Moses to intervene, Moses, under G-d’s direction, made a copper snake wrapped around a pole. Anyone who had been bitten and looked upon the copper snake … and anyone who gazed upon it would live (Numbers 21:8-9). Rashi suggests that “a mere glance” at the copper snake could heal a person’s potentially deadly snake bite, emphasising that healing comes not from the object itself, but from faith, opening the heart toward God. Quoting the Jerusalem Talmud, Rashi explains that only those who gazed with sincere intent were healed (Rosh Hashanah 29a).

Melbourne-based writer and commentator, Malki Rose, offers an alternative perspective highlighting the Biblical symbolism of snakes. The serpent often represents the yetzer ha’ra – the evil inclination – that fiery voice inside our head trying to lead us astray. Rose suggests that the snake, or yetzer ha’ra, represents fear or doubt, and that the copper snake becomes a mirror. God commands the people to “look it in the eye” – to confront fear head-on – to see their own anxieties, failures, and confusion – not to turn away and let fear and doubt deplete them, but to stare them down and reclaim their strength, their self-concept, and their faith.

May we all find the strength to stand tall, be flexible, expose and relinquish our anger, accept our sadness and feelings of loss, and stare our anxieties and doubt in the eye as we find ourselves and our people wandering through difficult times.