Sometimes We Must Dirty Our Hands
Parshat Tzav / Shabbat Parah

March 22, 2003  -  18 Adar Bet 5763

One of the strangest and most difficult rituals in the entire Torah is called the Parah Adumah, the rite of the Red Heifer. This ceremony has long been the subject of speculation and controversy among rabbis and Torah commentators. While the ceremony itself was understood to be a ritual of purification for those who came into contact with a corpse, the exact significance of this ritual eluded even King Solomon who is purported to have been the wisest of all people.

So what was the rite of the Parah Adumah really all about? Judaism is a religion which emphasizes and values the preciousness of life above all else. In ancient times, a person who came into contact with the dead was forbidden to enter the temple until he underwent a ritual of purification. By the way, we still have vestiges of this idea in the custom of washing our hands when leaving a cemetery. The ancient ritual of the Parah Adumah was an attempt to rid a person of this association with death.

It involved the sacrifice of a special red cow. The cow was then burned on the altar and its ashes were mixed with certain types of plants. This concoction was then sprinkled on the impure person in a rite of purification. The person would, then, offer sacrifices and immerse himself in a Mikvah, a ritual pool. Only then could he enter the temple and participate in Israel's religious life once again. The Parah Adumah provided ancient Israel with a transition from the impurity of death to the wholeness of life.

We read about the Parah Adumah each year just before Passover because this was a time when people anticipated entering the ancient temple in order to make a Passover sacrifice. Until the person was in a state of purity, however, he couldn't offer sacrifices. Today we no longer have a sacrificial cult and we no longer have a Temple in Jerusalem so we don't worry about these matters. But for our ancestors this was a matter of vital importance.

The Rabbis, however, were mystified by this ritual. They explained that the rite of Parah Adumah was a khok, a statute, or a law for which there was no apparent rational explanation. They obeyed it not because it made sense, but because God said so, plain and simple. Many of the commandments in the Torah were easily understandable. The sages recognized that this was one of the few passages that must be accepted on blind faith.

But what really troubled the sages was the fact that this rite had a contradictory affect on people. While the Parah Adumah purified those who were impure, it rendered those who were pure, impure. The person who had contact with a corpse would come to a priest to be purified through the ashes of the Parah Adumah. But the priest who conducted this ceremony automatically contracted the impurity as a result of his participation in this rite. Before he could enter the temple precincts again, the priest had to undergo yet another rite of purification.

Not only was the meaning of this strange ritual incomprehensible, then, but it seemed to be counter-intuitive and contradictory. Why should something that makes one person pure, make another impure?

Now, if King Solomon couldn't solve this riddle, I'm not going to attempt to do so this morning either. But I'd like to suggest to you that this ancient ritual was not so different from life itself. What purifies one person often makes the next person impure. And too often, in an attempt to do what's right, we have to dirty our hands. Maybe that's the real lesson of the Parah Adumah.

There are many examples of this, but the one that comes to mind this morning is war. America is now engaged in a war to rid the world of a mad tyrant, a man who has practiced genocide against his own people and would think nothing of releasing weapons of mass destruction against the other nations of the world if he could. It's not difficult to understand why our president has chosen to go to war against Sadaam Hussein. Even those nations and individuals who disagree with the president and oppose the present military effort readily acknowledge that the present regime in Iraq is a danger to the entire world and must go.

They simply disagree about whether this is the right time for a military intervention or whether we should allow "diplomacy' to takes its course and UN weapon inspectors to do their job.

Like the Parah Adumah, war is sometimes necessary and even mandated according the principles by which we live. If you stand for something then you have to be willing to defend it and fight for it. Force is sometimes necessary. Hopefully the course we have chosen to follow will improve the lives of the Iraqi people and restore some semblance of security to the world.

But I have to wonder, what affect will it have in the long run upon us and upon our nature? Like the Parah Adumah, I would suggest that the very course of actions that we must take may purify the impure but in the end it will make us, the pure, impure. We need to acknowledge this basic truth of life. There is a price that we pay every time we raise a gun or take up arms in this world of ours. Not that we shouldn't when it is necessary or called for. But we must do so with a full recognition of what is at stake.

The ritual of the Parah Adumah probably came closer than almost any other ritual in Judaism to our pagan roots. There's something almost magical about slaughtering a cow and sprinkling its ashes mixed with water on someone's head. The Rabbis suggested that this ceremony was somehow connected with the Egel Hazahav, the Golden calf. Israel had fashioned an idol and now they used the same animal to purify themselves. Because the Golden Calf was male and the Parah Adumah hade to be female, the Rabbis said, "Let the mother come and repair the damage the offspring has caused."

The Torah recognized that a ceremony of purification was a necessary evil somehow rooted in idolatry. In the end the Torah allowed it, but rendered the priest who conducted the ceremony impure. What could be a more effective way to express our ambivalence about such rituals? Sometimes we must do things; they are necessary but they are not necessarily good for us.

We often talk about a just war. The president and his secretaries have repeatedly referred to our incursion into Iraq as "a just war." Maybe that is so. Jewish law also recognizes that war is sometimes not only permissible but justified and even mandated. We speak about a "Milchemet Hovah," an obligatory war, and even a "Milchemet Mitzvah," a commanded war. We are allowed to defend and protect ourselves and our interests

But what I'd like to suggest this morning is justified does not necessarily mean good or glorified. Maybe we need to change the terminology with which we speak about war. War by its very nature is unjust. Innocent people suffer. The results of war are often unpredictable. Yet sometimes we must still fight. What we have then is not just wars are necessary wars. Sometimes we have no choice but to go to war to defend our values or our wellbeing. In the end there is very little justice in war, but the war may be a necessary course of action. The outcome may be good but those who are forced to participate, like the Kohanim, are rendered impure though their actions. As a result, they are then in need of healing and purification.

I find this to be a comforting way to think about our present dilemma. As the bombs fall in Iraq, we cannot protect the innocent or avoid unnecessary suffering. Let's be honest with ourselves. We should not glorify what we have sent our young people to do. It is a necessary evil. In the end we must ask ourselves how we will restore order not only to the world but to our own lives as well. Like Golda Meir, we must remember that we are placing a heavy burden on young men and women, not only because they are in danger of being killed but because we are forcing them to become killers. Death is death even if it is for a good cause. We cannot, should not glorify the need to take the lives of others.

War has the power to purify the world of impurity. And that is something we must sometimes do. But let us not ignore this terrible truth. It renders those who are pure, impure.

As the present conflict unfolds in Iraq we must pray for our young men and women. We pray that they complete their difficult task and that they return home in peace soon. And we pray that despite what they are called on to do that they remain whole.

Shabbat Shalom