Sunday, June 26, 2011

Chukat: The Three Patients

This is the ritual law that God has commanded: Instruct the Israelite people to bring you a completely red cow, which has no blemish and which has never had a yoke on it.

—Numbers 19:2 


In a small town with more cows than people, three locals came down with a mysterious illness. Same symptoms, same doctor, same treatment plan. But the outcomes? As different as a matzah ball and a bowling ball.

1.         Patient A was an uneducated man who trusted his doctor completely. He followed the instructions to the letter. Didn’t ask why, didn’t question the logic. Just did what he was told—and he recovered.

2.         Patient B had experience; he had worked as a paramedic. He knew enough to be dangerous. He read the prescription, nodded thoughtfully, and then edited the plan. Took what made sense, skipped what didn’t. He died. Nice guy, but not his finest decision.

3.         Patient C, also a paramedic, took a different route. He knew a bit, sure, but he also knew the doctor knew more. So, even when the treatment seemed baffling, he followed the instructions fully. He trusted the doctor, and he recovered.


King Solomon Hits a Wall

Some people approach mitzvot with a simple, unwavering faith. They don’t ask why, they just do. They follow the commandments as they are, trusting that they are good, even if the reasons are hidden. This kind of faith is like that of Patient A: straightforward, uncritical, and wholehearted.

Others are wired differently. They question, analyze, seek logic. They want to understand the “why” behind the “what.” That kind of curiosity is valuable, but it can also trip you up. Like Patient B, they may end up rejecting what they can’t make sense of—and that doesn’t end well.

King Solomon, wisest of all men, believed his vast intellect could unlock every secret in the Torah. And for most mitzvot, it did. But when he reached the Parah Adumah, the purification ritual involving the ashes of a red heifer, he was stumped.

“I thought I could fathom it, but it eludes me” (Ecc. 7:23), he admitted. Precisely because of his wisdom, Solomon struggled to accept what he could not explain.

But that was the point. In that moment, Solomon learned something deeper: The wisdom of the Torah, like the One who gave it, is ultimately beyond human grasp.

Like Patient C, who trusted the doctor’s expertise even when the treatments seemed baffling, Solomon came to a humbling conclusion: Sometimes, the wisest course is simply to rely on the wisdom of the Creator, whose ways are higher than our own.

(The Wit and Wisdom of the Dubno MaggidAdapted from Mishlei Yaakov, pp. 328-329)