58 | JULY 11 • 2024
I
t took me two years to
recover from the death
of my father, of blessed
memory. To this day, almost
20 years later,
I am not sure
why. He did not
die suddenly
or young. He
was well into
his 80s. In his
last years, he
had to undergo
five operations, each of
which sapped his strength a
little more. Besides which,
as a rabbi, I had to officiate
at funerals and comfort the
bereaved. I knew what grief
looked like.
The rabbis were critical of
one who mourns too much
too long. They said that God
Himself says of such a person,
“Are you more compassion-
ate than I am?” Maimonides
rules, “A person should not
become excessively broken-
hearted because of a person’s
death, as it says, ‘Do not weep
for the dead nor bemoan
him’ (Jer. 22:10). This means,
‘Do not weep excessively.’
For death is the way of the
world, and one who grieves
excessively at the way of the
world is a fool.” With rare
exceptions, the outer limit of
grief in Jewish law is a year,
not more.
Yet, knowing these things
did not help. We are not
always masters of our emo-
tions. Nor does comforting
others prepare you for your
own experience of loss.
Jewish law regulates outward
conduct not inward feeling,
and when it speaks of feel-
ings, like the commands to
love and not to hate.
Halachah generally
translates this into behav-
ioral terms, assuming, in
the language of the Sefer
HaChinnuch, that “the heart
follows the deed.”
I felt an existential black
hole, an emptiness at the core
of being. It deadened my sen-
sations, leaving me unable to
sleep or focus, as if life was
happening at a great distance
and as if I were a spectator
watching a film out of focus
with the sound turned off.
The mood eventually passed,
but while it lasted, I made
some of the worst mistakes of
my life.
I mention these things
because they are the connect-
ing thread of parshah Chukat.
The most striking episode is
the moment when the people
complain about the lack of
water. Moses does something
wrong, and though God sends
water from a rock, he also
sentences Moses to an almost
unbearable punishment:
“Because you did not have
sufficient faith in Me to sanc-
tify Me before the Israelites,
therefore you shall not bring
this assembly into the land I
have given you.”
LOSING COMPOSURE
The commentators debate
exactly what he did wrong.
Was it that he lost his temper
with the people (“Listen now,
you rebels”)? That he hit the
rock instead of speaking to it?
That he made it seem as if it
was not God but he and Aaron
who were responsible for the
water (“Shall we bring water
out of this rock for you?”)?
What is more puzzling
still is why he lost control at
that moment. He had faced
the same problem before,
but he had never lost his
temper before. In Exodus
15, the Israelites at Marah
complained that the water
was undrinkable because it
was bitter. In Exodus 17 at
Massa-and-Meriva, they
complained that there was no
water. God then told Moses to
take his staff and hit the rock,
and water flowed from it. So
when in our parshah God
tells Moses, “Take the staff …
and speak to the rock,” it was
surely a forgivable mistake to
assume that God meant him
also to hit it. That is what
He had said last time. Moses
was following precedent.
And if God did not mean
him to hit the rock, why did
He command him to take his
staff?
What is even harder to
understand is the order of
events. God had already told
Moses exactly what to do.
Gather the people. Speak
to the rock, and water will
flow. This was before Moses
made his ill-tempered speech,
beginning, “Listen, now you
rebels.” It is understandable
if you lose your composure
when you are faced with a
problem that seems insoluble.
This had happened to Moses
earlier when the people com-
Healing the
Trauma of Loss
Rabbi Lord
Jonathan
Sacks
SPIRIT
A WORD OF TORAH