Parashat Chukat: The Power of One Person

Our world is hurting so much right now. There is so much pain. So much fear. So many mourning, weeping. It is so easy to just curl up and cry. To hide.To feel a sense of futility, powerlessness, and despair. Paris. Tel Aviv. Brussels. Istanbul. Orlando. Baton Rouge. Minnesota. Dallas. Nice. One can barely keep track anymore. The news of one tragedy just morphs into the next.

What can we do? How can we make “it all” stop? How can we bring about peace, tolerance, love, acceptance, security, and safety? How can we resist the urge to become numb or apathetic to the endless barrage of attacks, murders, shootings, and memorials?

A portion of a poem by Warsan Shire reads,

later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.

 

That hurting is everywhere. And we might be tempted to shrug our shoulders and say, “Well, what can I do?” What CAN one person do?

Our Torah portion this week reminds us of the power of one person. In Parashat Chukat, in Numbers chapter 20, we learn of the sudden death of Miriam the Prophetess. Verse 1 reads,

“And the children of Israel, the whole congregation, came into the wilderness of Zin in the first month; and the people settled in Kadesh; and Miriam died there, and was buried there.”

 

Note, of course, that there is no mention of any kind of mourning ritual related to Miriam’s death, which there is for Aaron and Moses. But, it is still significant that the Torah text mentions her death at all. The very next verse then states, “The community was without water, and they joined against Moses and Aaron.”

It seems to be a non-sequitur. Miriam dies. There was no water. Yet, is there a way in which these two ideas might be connected? Our Sages and commentators throughout Jewish history have always sought to explain inconsistencies, redundancies,  or confusing content. Some of you may already have figured out the connection between Miriam and water, as this link has led to a modern addition to our Passover Seder tables.

Rashi, one of our greatest sages, addressed these verses as part of his 12th century commentaries. Rashi said, “AND THERE WAS NO WATER FOR THE CONGREGATION — Since this statement follows immediately after the mention of Miriam’s death, we may learn from it that during the entire forty years they had the “well” through Miriam’s merit.”

Let’s unpack that.

Rashi notes the same thing we do – that Miriam dies, and then there is no water. He draws the conclusion that the wandering Israelites must have had plenty of water in the wilderness up until that point, and it must have been because of Miriam. The rabbis imagined that there was a well of water, “Miriam’s Well,” which followed the Israelites throughout the land and provided a steady source of hydration. When Miriam died, the well disappeared. After her passing, the people struggled to find a new source of water.

She was one person amongst at least 600,000. Thanks to her merit and righteousness, there was a source of water with the people for nearly 40 years. One person kept so many alive and healthy for so long. Water is such a potent symbol – one of nourishment, of sustenance, of vitality, of life. Our tradition credits Miriam with being one of the key reasons our ancestors survived 40 years in the desert. And this recognition leads us to our modern ritual of the Miriam’s Cup, used at many of today’s Passover Seders.

Take a moment to think about examples in your own life. Can you think of someone who made an enormous, positive impact? Someone who nourished you and helped you grow? Someone who taught you something fundamental or changed the direction of your life? It can be someone close to you or someone in our culture.

I think of the individuals who held each other’s hands in the Pulse Nightclub and helped as many people survive as possible. I think of the citizens who walked up to members of the Dallas Police Department and gave them hugs over the past week. Sometimes, making someone’s life better is much simpler than we think.

And there are the monumental examples, as well. Just two weeks ago, we lost a luminary of Jewish thought: Elie Wiesel. One man who survived the Holocaust, one man who brought so much awareness and knowledge about the horrors of the concentration camps. One man who inspired so many to speak out against injustice and hate. One man who reminded us, “The opposite of love isn’t hate, it is indifference.” And now, of course, Elie Wiesel is gone. Will the Well of his teachings dry up? Or will we continue to find inspiration and the will to go on?

Wiesel could have easily given up, or curled up and hid, or lost himself in despair. He did not. He spoke out. He shared his story. He did what he could to change the narrative of our world. To never let us forget, and to help us promise, “Never again!” We can live in his memory, and allow his legacy to inform our choices. When we feel despair, or fear, or brokenness – we can go on. We can make a difference, rather than become indifferent. We can all strive to be that one person.

May this coming week bring no news of terror, massacre, or tragedy. May we human beings look past our differences and instead band together to promote peace. May we look out for each other, offering a hand or hug to someone in need. May each and every one of us appreciate the importance of our actions, and may we all take part in Tikkun Olam – repairing our very broken world.

Ken Yhi Ratzon – may this be God’s will. Amen.