Chukat-Balak
Numbers 19:1-25:9

By Jen Smith

There are weeks when the Torah feels beautifully sophisticated, and then we turn the scroll to Chukat-Balak. One portion begins with a law that makes almost no sense, while the other features a talking donkey.

Our brilliant ancient rabbis were never bothered by this. In fact, they might even argue that if the Torah always made perfect sense, well, it wouldn’t be Torah. It would simply be information (and a lot less fun to read). Instead, Torah invites us into mystery, reminding us that sometimes, holiness can only be understood after it’s experienced.

The opening of Chukat introduces the ritual of the Red Heifer – Parah Adumah, perhaps the most famous chok, or a commandment whose reason remains beyond human understanding. Those who prepare their ashes become ritually impure, while those who are purified through the same ashes become clean. It sounds almost paradoxical.

King Solomon, considered the wisest of all people, famously declared,

I thought I could become wise, but it remained far from me. (Ecclesiastes 7:23)

The Midrash suggests he was speaking specifically about the mystery of the Red Heifer, suggesting that even wisdom has limits. For those of us who like answers this feels unsettling. We want life to make sense, for suffering to have an explanation, to understand why good people struggle while difficult people thrive, and we often yearn for an immediate response to our prayers.

Chukat begins by gently reminding us that faith is not about having all the answers. Faith is learning to move forward without them. And our Jewish mystical tradition offers a beautiful lens through which we might understand this concept better.

The Kabbalists teach that before creation there was only the Infinite, Ein Sof, a boundless Divine light beyond human comprehension. Creation itself required tzimtzum, or God’s self-contraction, making space for a world that could exist independently.

The rabbis explained that if all of this sounds a little trippy, it is because our finite human brains were never meant to fully grasp the Infinite, and thus, every encounter with God is necessarily mysterious. And the Red Heifer becomes a symbol of this truth: there are real things in life that just can’t be explained. Not every blessing arrives wrapped in certainty, and often, holiness requires us to trust the process before we understand.

If Chukat teaches us to live with mystery, then Balak teaches us to look for blessing in the most unexpected places.

Balak, King of Moab, hires a prophet, Balaam, to curse the Israelites. However, instead of raining terror, every curse spoken magically becomes a blessing.  Balaam’s curses become more frantic, lashing viciously at the Israelites, and yet, God transforms them into words of hope.

One of these blessings has echoed through Jewish history for thousands of years:

Mah tovu ohalecha Ya’akov, mishkenotecha Yisrael – How beautiful are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel.

One of Judaism’s most beloved prayers was created not by Moses, nor Aaron, nor any other Israelite. Instead, it came from someone who tried to curse us!

And I think there is some profound wisdom in this irony: sometimes God speaks through someone we do not outwardly trust, or someone outside of our community. And sometimes, it is our opponents who reveal something beautiful about us that we’ve forgotten to see ourselves.

The Hasidic masters taught that every person carries a nitzotz Eloki, a Divine spark. Our spiritual work is to recognize those sparks wherever they appear, and especially in the most unlikely of places. This isn’t a moment of naïveté in the Torah; Balaam’s intentions were undoubtedly corrupt. Even so, God refused to give Hatred the final word.

What Balaam meant for harm became blessing, and what others intended as fear transformed into praise. We see this pattern throughout Jewish history, as we have discovered that adversity is transformed into resilience, suffering into compassion, and wisdom from questions that once felt unanswerable.

There is another subtle thread connecting these two portions, as both Chukat and Balak ask us to loosen our grip on control.

The Israelites cannot fully understand the Red Heifer; Balaam cannot control his words as he speaks, and Balak cannot dictate the future. Even Moses, nearing the end of his life, learns that leadership doesn’t mean getting everything you want, it means inspiring people to see that they have all that they need. Sigh, Mick Jagger was right.

And maybe that is one of Torah’s deepest lessons: Our task is not to control every outcome; Our task is to become a vessel worthy of blessing.

The Kabbalists describe blessing as shefa, or divine flow. Like water, shefa cannot be forced. But when we cultivate humility, gratitude, compassion, and openness, we widen the channels through which that blessing can flow into and enter our lives.

So maybe that’s why these two portions are paired together sometimes. While one teaches us to accept and live together with the mystery of the Infinite, the other teaches us to recognize blessings wherever they may be hiding. Ultimately, we are reminded that these two concepts are often inseparable.

The greatest gifts in our lives are rarely the ones we planned, and often we don’t notice the moments that shape us most profoundly until after we have lived through them. In a strange poetic twist, the Torah reminds us that becoming more interested in asking better questions than uncovering every answer is part of growing up.

This week, Chukat-Balak invites us to hold mystery without fear and to seek blessing without cynicism. It also invites us to remember that the Infinite Divine is always speaking – sometimes through paradox, sometimes through talking donkeys, and sometimes through the very experiences we never would have chosen.

May we have the wisdom to embrace what we cannot fully explain, the humility to recognize blessings whenever they appear, and the openness to become channels through which God’s goodness and eternal blessing continues to flow into the world.

Shabbat Shalom.