Numbers - Cycle One - 1901-2201 - Chukath
It’s not easy climbing out of ourselves, out of our suffering. But only then can we take the divine spark and mix it with running water or flow, can we sprinkle this medicine on our skin, on our own play of light. In short, it is our responsibility to stop the cycle of suffering so we can stay on the path to purification and enlightenment.
Chukath begins with the sacrifice of the red cow. In the very first line the importance of this cow is repeated three times. Its blood is the life spark. Its red color represents the depth of that spark, one so intense that it has surfaced to the skin. Not Aaron, but Eleazar is to witness the sacrifice. Then, we are to take the ashes, mix them with running water and sprinkle ourselves with it. If the goal of Torah is divine consciousness (and it is) this is certainly the way. But God doesn’t intend the water, the ashes, or ourselves to always be in physical form; just our eternal prayer (the ashes), the sparkle of reflection (the water), and our openness to heart/light (our beings). In other words, this action is important because it shows the eternal cycle of enlightenment, beyond our finite selves.
Now, let’s look at Miriam’s death. Our suffering and grief is symbolized by drought. We want God to end our suffering for us, to do our work, to fix our pain. So, Aaron hits the rock with his staff, the one that had once grown nuts and leaves, and water flows. God gifts consciousness to the Israelites. But we simply use it to satisfy. We swallow God. We don’t praise Him. We limit the gift, limit Him. No wonder God is angry. No wonder the site is later called the waters of dispute.
As a result, Aaron has to die. Compromised by God in Korach for the sake of peace, he can no longer satisfy God’s will and sanctify Him. In all, however, his life’s work was a sacrifice and now, to continue his work, he himself is the sacrifice. His death is not a punishment. It’s the logical step on his path.
How bad the Israelites must feel. Their high priest is dead. We immediately have the losing battle with the Canaanites. There’s guilt, grieving, more battles within ourselves, suffering so extreme it drives us mad with snake bites. This exile, this separation from God, this obsession with pain, finally brings us to that edge where epiphany becomes experience and visualization. It’s as if that person poisoned by his or her own suffering isn’t us but someone else. Suffering finally reveals itself as merely a flash from our eyes, a photo that’s easy to delete. Suffering, we realize, is nothing but a delusion; a human conception and tool to handle our very condition. Suffering is not the pain itself. It just wears that mask. We are ready to approach the well.
The well has such depth and force it rushes out as music and song. Once again, even the words are about alchemy; light getting closer in the form of princes (out of reach) to leaders (here with us) to staffs (that which we hold). The well is dug, then sunk, then carved out, a sign of our ability to regain consciousness once lost.
Now we are enlightened, or so we think. We kill not only our enemy (Og) but everyone who gathers around him. We create a victory without humility. This forebodes disaster. This is because vanity is just one more form of suffering. And suffering will, as always, prevent our going forward on the path to enlightenment. For now though, may we bless the images of ourselves that have suffered, and accept our responsibility to cut loose from them. May we bless the images of ourselves that will get beyond suffering, delusion that it is. In Chukath we must accept that there isn’t a lack of delusion without delusion. There isn’t a God without distance from God. All is necessary in the big story.
Finally, in Chukath, suffering is human, not Godly. In fact, it only separates us from God, from His light. And it’s His light that can heal, that we want to know. God, throughout Torah, seems to barely tolerate suffering. Therefore, it is not our responsibility to cater to it either. On the contrary, we are to fill ourselves with the water of life because only then can we merge with the divine, can we be that source of healing. If others see this as a “taking on” of suffering, it is only their human perspective. What we are really “taking on” are the ashes of the red heifer and running water; life spark merged with light flow. That purification brings about a radiance at the core, a vibration that shows suffering as a whole new conception, not cathartic, not even ours to own, beyond human definition, beyond even pain, and is, itself, a face of God.
Chukath begins with the sacrifice of the red cow. In the very first line the importance of this cow is repeated three times. Its blood is the life spark. Its red color represents the depth of that spark, one so intense that it has surfaced to the skin. Not Aaron, but Eleazar is to witness the sacrifice. Then, we are to take the ashes, mix them with running water and sprinkle ourselves with it. If the goal of Torah is divine consciousness (and it is) this is certainly the way. But God doesn’t intend the water, the ashes, or ourselves to always be in physical form; just our eternal prayer (the ashes), the sparkle of reflection (the water), and our openness to heart/light (our beings). In other words, this action is important because it shows the eternal cycle of enlightenment, beyond our finite selves.
Now, let’s look at Miriam’s death. Our suffering and grief is symbolized by drought. We want God to end our suffering for us, to do our work, to fix our pain. So, Aaron hits the rock with his staff, the one that had once grown nuts and leaves, and water flows. God gifts consciousness to the Israelites. But we simply use it to satisfy. We swallow God. We don’t praise Him. We limit the gift, limit Him. No wonder God is angry. No wonder the site is later called the waters of dispute.
As a result, Aaron has to die. Compromised by God in Korach for the sake of peace, he can no longer satisfy God’s will and sanctify Him. In all, however, his life’s work was a sacrifice and now, to continue his work, he himself is the sacrifice. His death is not a punishment. It’s the logical step on his path.
How bad the Israelites must feel. Their high priest is dead. We immediately have the losing battle with the Canaanites. There’s guilt, grieving, more battles within ourselves, suffering so extreme it drives us mad with snake bites. This exile, this separation from God, this obsession with pain, finally brings us to that edge where epiphany becomes experience and visualization. It’s as if that person poisoned by his or her own suffering isn’t us but someone else. Suffering finally reveals itself as merely a flash from our eyes, a photo that’s easy to delete. Suffering, we realize, is nothing but a delusion; a human conception and tool to handle our very condition. Suffering is not the pain itself. It just wears that mask. We are ready to approach the well.
The well has such depth and force it rushes out as music and song. Once again, even the words are about alchemy; light getting closer in the form of princes (out of reach) to leaders (here with us) to staffs (that which we hold). The well is dug, then sunk, then carved out, a sign of our ability to regain consciousness once lost.
Now we are enlightened, or so we think. We kill not only our enemy (Og) but everyone who gathers around him. We create a victory without humility. This forebodes disaster. This is because vanity is just one more form of suffering. And suffering will, as always, prevent our going forward on the path to enlightenment. For now though, may we bless the images of ourselves that have suffered, and accept our responsibility to cut loose from them. May we bless the images of ourselves that will get beyond suffering, delusion that it is. In Chukath we must accept that there isn’t a lack of delusion without delusion. There isn’t a God without distance from God. All is necessary in the big story.
Finally, in Chukath, suffering is human, not Godly. In fact, it only separates us from God, from His light. And it’s His light that can heal, that we want to know. God, throughout Torah, seems to barely tolerate suffering. Therefore, it is not our responsibility to cater to it either. On the contrary, we are to fill ourselves with the water of life because only then can we merge with the divine, can we be that source of healing. If others see this as a “taking on” of suffering, it is only their human perspective. What we are really “taking on” are the ashes of the red heifer and running water; life spark merged with light flow. That purification brings about a radiance at the core, a vibration that shows suffering as a whole new conception, not cathartic, not even ours to own, beyond human definition, beyond even pain, and is, itself, a face of God.
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