Parashat Chukat-Balak פָּרָשַׁת חֻקַּת־בָּלָק

​This week’s parsha includes a narrative that perplexes many of our greatest scholars.

Let’s remind ourselves of the story: The people complain that they do not have water, and once again they bemoan their having left Egypt.  “Why did you make us leave Egypt to bring us to this wretched place, a place with no grain or figs or vines or pomegranates?  There is not even water to drink!” 

In response, the presence of God appears to Moses and Aaron and he commands them to “assemble the community” and order the rock to yield its water.  But Moshe does not do as God commands; instead, he strikes the rock not once but twice, and copious water flows from the rock.  But what an enormous price to pay!

Because he struck the rock, Moshe is not allowed to enter the Promised Land.  After leading the Israelites for forty years, through so many trials and tests, how could Moses be denied entry to the land?

As Rabbi Kushner, A”H, notes in the below-the-line commentary in our Etz Hayyim, “Why should Moses, who has served God so loyally for so many years through so many trying times, be so harshly punished for what seems like a minor infraction?”

Indeed: What could have possibly been so sinful to warrant such a terrible punishment?

After 40 years in the desert with these people, we can guess that he has little patience left for their whining and their ingratitude. Also, we should not forget that Moshe has just lost his sister Miriam and was still in mourning for her.  And Miriam herself had been the person to bring water in the desert to the Israelites.  So, it makes sense that Moses would associate the absence of water with her death and feel even more powerless and distraught.  And that he would “lose his cool” as a result.

And does Moses ever lose it! Not only does he throw a tantrum, he says, “Shimu na hamorim” - listen, you rebellious ones! Shall we get water for you out of this rock?” 

We know that Moshe has a short fuse, and this incident in Chukkat is not the first where we see him display his temper.  Early in his career, while in Egypt, Moshe saw a taskmaster beating an Israelite slave and, in a moment of righteous indignation, he strikes the Egyptian, killing him.  Remember too how Moshe smashes the two tablets that contain the Ten Commandments when he saw the Israelites worshipping the golden calf, only weeks after they had left their slavery in Egypt. 

But this week’s temper tantrum has disastrous consequences for Moshe, and our sages have struggled to explain the severity of God’s punishment.  Rashi argues that striking the rock rather than speaking to it diminished the greatness of the miracle because it made it seem as though it took more power than it did.  Ramban looks at verse 10, “Shall we get water for you out of this rock?” and argues that that statement seems to be claiming that Moses and Aaron are taking credit for the miracle and not giving the credit where it is deserved, to God. 

Other scholars believe that Moshe’s sin started even earlier than when he struck the rock—that it began when he needed to be told that a miracle would occur rather than just having the faith that it would occur. And Maimonides maintains that Moshe’s sin lies in his name-calling - to Maimonides, his name calling which is really loshan hara - rebels! - means that Moses has lost patience with the people and therefore can no longer be a leader.  If we accept that interpretation, then perhaps Moses’s failure to enter the Promised Land is less a punishment and more a recognition that this new generation needed new leaders, and that Moses and Aaron are physically and emotionally exhausted and can no longer lead.

What distinguishes that one act of anger from the others we just mentioned - the killing of the taskmaster and the breaking of the tablets? Those two examples seem to flow from righteous indignation, they seem to be a response to a perceived injustice. The building of the golden calf, for example, was a direct violation of God’s will. But Moshe’s anger in today’s example seems only a result of extreme frustration and impatience, hardly qualities of a prophet.

I remember reading recently that Abraham Lincoln had a terrible temper.  I know that’s contrary to the stereotype, but he was a lot more complicated than people tend to think. In any case, Lincoln used to write incredibly angry letters to people who had let him down or failed to follow through on their commitments.  But, unlike me and maybe some of you, what Lincoln did was he sealed the letter in an envelope, and even addressed it.  But he NEVER SENT IT.  That’s an understanding of the risks of expressing one’s anger. 

Today’s modern version is email - I know it used to be called “flaming” where people sent angry emails simply because it’s so easy to do that without looking someone right in the face.  So easy to hit ‘send.’

Ben Zoma taught “Who is mighty? One who controls his impulses.”

Every day we see examples of the destructive power of rage - road rage, domestic violence, horrific acts of terror.  By the way, one reason anger grows to heat - and this was certainly true of me that time I mentioned - is that we do not share how we feel in the moment. When someone disappoints us or inadvertently insults us, we tend to keep it inside. We push it down, we wait, we chew on the wrong done to us. When we do so, the bitterness festers.  It has to come out somehow, and, invariably, it comes out in destructive ways. But the Talmud tells us that we are allowed - actually, we are REQUIRED - to rebuke those who have done wrong. But the Talmud also provides very clear guidelines about how to rebuke that person - and here the goal is not only to educate the other person but also to clear the air.  We must never heart in our hearts - lo tisneh ray’eha bilveveka; we must state the facts and not be overly emotional; we must not be judgmental or overly generalize. 

In fact, a person is judged, the Talmud says, by three things that in Hebrew sound like very similar words:  kiso by his pocket (his generosity). KOSO, literally his cup but really his APPETITES, and V’KA’ASO, his anger.  That we get angry is only human. How we express that anger is a reflection of our character. For every minute that we are angry, we lose sixty seconds of happiness that we might have had. Knowing when to get angry and how to turn anger into something constructive may be the best measure of our lies. 

This parsha is a reminder to take a breath, to have faith, to consider the world from someone else’s perspective.  I’ll end with one other Lincoln story:  at the end of the Civil War, there was tremendous pressure on Lincoln to execute the Confederate leaders.  We’re told that a woman confronted Lincoln on this issue, saying to him, “President Lincoln, shouldn’t we eliminate our enemies?”  Lincoln’s response was, “Madame, don’t we do so by making them our friends?” 

Let’s resolve to make a friend of an enemy; it may seem unselfish to do that, but it’s the best thing we can do FOR OURSELVES.