Sometimes
the very thing that kills also cures; that which hurts also heals; that which
causes impurity purifies. Parshat Chukkat opens with the law of the red
heifer, whose ashes are crucially necessary to removing the ritual impurity
imparted by death. Yet the one who slaughters the red heifer and reduces it to
ashes is by that service, rendered impure—this seems like the inverse. It is
surprising how often that which hurts also heals.
Following
the deaths of Miriam and Aaron, the Israelites complain yet again. This is the
their last major rebellion but this time the Israelites rebel directly against
God.
וַיִּסְעוּ
מֵהֹר הָהָר, דֶּרֶךְ יַם-סוּף, לִסְבֹב, אֶת-אֶרֶץ אֱדוֹם; וַתִּקְצַר נֶפֶשׁ-הָעָם, בַּדָּרֶךְ. וַיְדַבֵּר הָעָם, בֵּאלֹהִים וּבְמֹשֶׁה, לָמָה הֶעֱלִיתֻנוּ מִמִּצְרַיִם, לָמוּת בַּמִּדְבָּר: כִּי אֵין לֶחֶם,
וְאֵין מַיִם, וְנַפְשֵׁנוּ קָצָה, בַּלֶּחֶם הַקְּלֹקֵל.
They
set out from Mount Hor by way of the Sea of Reeds to skirt the land of Edom.
But the people grew restive on the journey, and the people spoke against God
and against Moses, “Why did you make us leave Egypt to die
in the wilderness? There is no bread and no water, and we have come to loathe
this miserable food.” (Numbers 21:4-5)
God’s response
is a combination of what we would expect and also something surprising:
וַיְשַׁלַּח יְהוָה בָּעָם, אֵת הַנְּחָשִׁים הַשְּׂרָפִים, וַיְנַשְּׁכוּ, אֶת-הָעָם; וַיָּמָת עַם-רָב, מִיִּשְׂרָאֵל. וַיָּבֹא הָעָם אֶל-מֹשֶׁה וַיֹּאמְרוּ
חָטָאנוּ, כִּי-דִבַּרְנוּ בַיהוָה
וָבָךְ--הִתְפַּלֵּל אֶל-יְהוָה, וְיָסֵר מֵעָלֵינוּ אֶת-הַנָּחָשׁ; וַיִּתְפַּלֵּל מֹשֶׁה, בְּעַד הָעָם.
The
Lord sent seraph serpents against the people. They bit the people and
many of the Israelites died. The people came to Moses and said, “We
sinned by speaking against the lord and against you. Intercede with the Lord to
take away the serpents from us!” And Moses interceded for the people. (Numbers
21:6-7)
We find
here a familiar pattern: God sends harsh punishment and the people relent—though not
before many have died—this
time asking Moses to plead their case before God. But then something unusual
happens. God instructs Moses to fashion a seraph (a snake or serpent)
and mount it on a pole. One who looks at it is healed from the bite of the seraph
serpents or snakes. Why is it a snake?
Indiana Jones, heroic rough-riding adventurer and mild-mannered archaeology professor of the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark is afraid of only one thing: snakes. When he and Marcus toss torches into the Well of Souls, into which they must descend, Indiana realizes it is filled with thousands of slithering snakes. He mutters, “Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?” Ophidiophobia, the fear of snakes, is the most common phobia, afflicting one-third of all adults. Evolutionary biologists theorize that the fear of snakes, some of which are poisonous, was advantageous for human survival.
In parshat
Chukkat, the Israelites encounter a scene not altogether unlike that in
Steven Spielberg’s
hit movie, but with a bizarre twist. The copper seraph indeed works as
promised. What hurt them now heals them. What killed them now cures them.
We might
understand the seraph snakes as representing the Israelites’ deepest fears, and the Copper Snake
as affording them the opportunity to face their fears. The Israelites have much
to fear, including the harshness of the Wilderness and their vulnerability
among other desert-dwelling peoples (Amalek immediately jumps to mind). But
perhaps most of all, they are threatened by their own fears, as we often are.
We saw this clearly two weeks ago when we read the account of the spies who
reconnoiter the Land of Israel. The report they bring back is in many ways
highly accurate: a land flowing with milk and honey, whose produce is
magnificent and whose cities are fortified. All true. It is their fear that
colors the spies’ intelligence
black and foreboding: “We cannot attack that people, for it is
stronger than we.” (Numbers 13:31)
Can
courage abide alongside fear? What does it take for people to convert their
fear into courage? Mark Twain wrote: “Courage is resistance to fear,
mastery of fear, not absence of fear.”
Israeli
neuroscientists Uri Nili, Hagar Goldberg, and Yadin Dudai of the Weizmann
Institute in Rehovot, along with psychiatrist Abraham Weizman of Tel Aviv
University, sought to understand how people react to fear, and move from
avoiding it to confronting it. They scanned the brains of people acting out of
courage, despite great fear. How better to do it than with…you
guessed it: snakes. Since the Well of Souls was not readily available, these
scientists put people in an MRI—head secured by a cage, body encased
in a narrow tube— and
secured a 5-foot long snake to a trolley on a conveyer belt just above them.
The goal, the subjects were told, was to bring the snake toward their heads.
The subjects were given two buttons to push. One button brought the snake
closer to them and the other moved it further away: “Advance” and “Retreat.” Sounds a bit masochistic, doesn’t
it?
The
article reporting their findings in the journal Neuron is entitled, “Fear Thou
Not: Activity of Frontal and Temporal Circuits in Moments of Real-Life
Courage.” The scientists measured their
subjects’ behavioral responses, brain activity,
and physiological responses. It turns out that there are two separate drivers
of fear: one is a physiological response we cannot control (sweating is the
most obvious sign) and the other is our conscious level of fear. If both
drivers are engaged, fear wins out and we succumb. But if only one driver of
fear is engaged, we are able to overcome our fear and act with courage. What is
more, the more the subjects did not succumb to fear, the more the brain
region known as the subgenus anterior cingulate cortex lit up, and the more
courageously the subjects behaved.
In other
words, even if subjects had an innate physiological fear response, if they made
the mental effort to face their fear, the subgenus anterior cingulate cortex (
the part of the brain that suppresses fear responses) quieted down the amygdala
(the part of the brain that engenders fear in the first place). Clearly, it’s all
happening in the brain, but the finding that the Courage Center (the subgenus
anterior cingulate cortex) can overcome the Fear Center (the amygdala) is
remarkable.
There’s no pill
to pop here. But by facing our fears (as the subject in the Weizmann Institute
experiment did quite literally) and employing our considerable mental powers,
we can reshape our brains and conquer our fears. We watched Indiana Jones do it
when he lowered himself into the Well
of Souls, and Neville Flynn in Snakes on a Plane. We, too, can do it.
Here’s one more
picture to get us started.
What are
you afraid of? Can you envision yourself staring into the eyes of Copper Snake
without blinking and overcoming that fear?
© Rabbi
Amy Scheinerman
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