Parashat
Chukat
Why Didn’t Moshe Enter the Land – and What Does That Teach Us About
Ourselves?
Why Does Living in the Land of Israel
Require More Emunah than Any Other Land?
Israel is a Land that demands a very high level of emunah (faith) – especially during the trying yet spiritually significant times we are privileged to live through. When my husband and I first settled in the Land as full-time students at Diaspora Yeshiva, I attempted to make a budget to see how we might make ends meet. I placed all our potential income on one page. I would tutor one student, and my husband would try to see a patient now and then. Afterward, I listed our expenses – house rent, electricity, and basic food – on another page. The numbers simply didn’t match up. The gap was so immense that I gave up trying to budget. Crumpling the papers into the garbage, I decided we would just live on emunah. And that worked.People would
ask, “So, how do you support yourselves?” And I would answer by pointing to
Heaven and saying, “Hashem!” Most people didn’t really buy that, but we truly
lived that way – and experienced Hashem’s immense, individual providence beyond
nature. As I later learned, the Land of Israel is “The Land that Hashem seeks out constantly; the
eyes of Hashem your G-d are upon it” (Devarim 11:12). This teaches us that in the Land of Israel, the Divine supervision (hashgachah) is not
like in other lands. Rather, it is special and individual Divine supervision, beyond the bounds of nature. Netivot
Shalom describes our experience so eloquently: “Through emunah, a person
cleaves to the inner Divine vitality that flows in the Land of Israel – and
thus draws upon himself the miraculous hashgachah (Divine supervision) that
governs the Land. But when a person lacks emunah – Heaven forbid – the land
‘spits him out,’ because the holiness and providence of the Land are only drawn
down through the channel of emunah” (Netivot Shalom, Bamidbar,
Shelach, pp. 76-7).
I truly believe that our experience of living
on emunah – without anything close to a fixed income for seven full years when
we first settled in the Land – laid the foundation for our spiritual
resilience. It helped us maintain our emunah through the sirens and the challenging
war situation in which we recently found ourselves.
How Could
Moshe, the Greatest of Prophets, Falter in Emunah?
It is hard to
imagine that Moshe – the greatest of all prophets – could be lacking in emunah.
He fearlessly confronted Pharaoh, led the Israelites out of Egypt with
miraculous signs and wonders, and followed Hashem’s command through the Cloud
of Glory and Pillar of Fire in the snake-infested wilderness. This is the same
Moshe in whose merit the heavenly sustenance descended from above to the people
for forty years in the desert. How could he be faith-deficient?
Yet in Parashat
Chukat, at Mei Merivah – the Waters of Strife – we encounter one of
the most heart-wrenching moments in the Torah. After decades of tireless
leadership and unwavering devotion, Moshe is told that he will not bring the
people into the Promised Land. The reason? A lack of emunah:
ספר במדבר פרק כ פסוק יב
וַיֹּאמֶר הַשֵׁם אֶל משֶׁה וְאֶל אַהֲרֹן יַעַן לֹא הֶאֱמַנְתֶּם בִּי
לְהַקְדִּישֵׁנִי לְעֵינֵי בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל לָכֵן לֹא תָבִיאוּ אֶת הַקָּהָל
הַזֶּה אֶל הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר נָתַתִּי לָהֶם:
“Because you did not believe in Me, to sanctify Me in the eyes of the Children of Israel, therefore you shall not bring this congregation into the land which I have given them.” (Bamidbar 20:12).
Rashi explains
that Moshe’s sin was striking the rock instead of speaking to it. Had he
followed Hashem’s command precisely, the people would have witnessed a profound
demonstration of emunah: “If a rock, which neither speaks nor hears nor
requires sustenance, obeys the word of G-d – how much more so should we.” Rashi
emphasizes that Moshe’s error lay in missing the opportunity to sanctify Hashem
through speech. Hashem wanted the rock to respond to words – to highlight the
power of Torah and emunah, rather than force.
Is there a
Connection Between Moshe’s Striking the Rock and His Egyptian Upbringing?
Moshe’s striking
of the rock symbolized a holdover from Egypt and the wilderness – a mode of
leadership through coercion. But the Land of Israel operates on a different
frequency: it is entered through sacred sound – like the walls of Jericho that
tumbled through the sound of the shofar. On the threshold of entering the Holy
Land, the mode of service must evolve into a place of voice and presence.
According to
Ramban, Moshe and Aharon’s error lay in their words: “Shall we draw water for
you from this rock?” (Bamidbar 20:10). Their phrasing implied that they,
rather than Hashem, were the source of the miracle (Ramban, Bamidbar
20:8).
Water is the
ultimate symbol of our dependence on Hashem and the necessity of emunah. As
Rashi comments on Bereishit 2:5, Hashem did not cause vegetation to grow
until Adam was created to recognize the need for rain and to pray for it. Only
then did the earth yield its produce. Rain cannot be manufactured – it must be
drawn down through prayer and trust in Hashem.
Through prayer
and emunah in Hashem, the sustaining waters will rise by themselves as they did
for Avraham, our Father, and Rivkah, our Mother, without physical effort on
their behalf. Could it be that this lesson, so intrinsic to our relationship
with Hashem, may not have fully integrated into Moshe’s leadership approach,
since he had grown up in Pharaoh’s palace, where the Nile was falsely
worshipped as the source of life?
Why Did Moshe
Have to Suffer Such a Painful Consequence for a Subtle Mistake?
Moshe struck the
rock rather than speaking to it, as Hashem had commanded. The water flowed
nonetheless, quenching the people’s thirst – but the act cost Moshe the very
goal he had yearned for over forty years. For this one deviation, he would see
the Land only from afar.
This punishment
seems disproportionately harsh. Had Moshe not suffered enough through the
people’s constant complaints, their rebellions, and their repeated lapses in
faith? Why would such a seemingly minor misstep deny him the privilege of
entering the Land?
Moshe’s action
at Mei Merivah reflected more than a missed opportunity. It marked a shift in
spiritual orientation, necessary at the verge of entering the Holy Land. In
Eretz Yisrael, speech is the tool of transformation. It is the land of
prophecy, of prayer, of spiritual dialogue.
Thus, Moshe’s
hitting the rock expressed a deeper spiritual tension – not simply a failure,
but a mismatch between the kind of leadership needed in the wilderness and that
required for the Land of Israel. In the desert, Divine miracles were often
drawn down through force – as in striking the rock at Chorev early in the
journey (Shemot 17:6), or in raising the staff to split the sea. That
generation required external signs and dramatic transformation of nature to
foster faith.
But Eretz
Yisrael is different. It is a land where holiness is revealed not by forcefully
overriding nature but by attuning to its inherent holiness through prayer. Its
spiritual energy flows through emunah and song, not power or intervention. The
Land demands a leadership that is attuned to subtle sanctity – drawing blessing
through prayer, presence, and harmony with Divine will.
The next phase
of the journey required a new kind of avodah – and a new kind of leader.
In this light, Moshe’s action was not merely a personal failing but a Divine
sign that a new mode of quieter, and deeper holiness was now to be revealed
through Yehoshua’s leadership – the kind necessary for the next stage of the
journey.
How Can We
Rectify Our Own Mei Merivah Through Emunah?
In a deeper
sense, each generation – and each of us individually – stands at our own Mei
Merivah. We are all striving to enter the inner sanctity of the Land, whether
physically or spiritually. And we, too, are tested: do we trust enough to speak
gently, to sanctify Hashem in public through faith, or do we resort to control,
impatience, or despair?
Moshe’s story is
not only a tragedy; it is a mirror. It calls us to examine how we approach our
own spiritual inheritance. Are we sufficiently aligned with Hashem’s will to
merit the depth of connection the Land offers?
Even now, as we
face the challenges of war, national pain, and uncertainty, we are invited to
respond not with despair or anger, but with renewed faith. The Land is still
calling us – not to strike, but to speak: to pray, to bless, to affirm our
emunah out loud.
Moshe
didn’t enter the Land, but he brought us to its border. It is up to us to cross
it by transforming our inner from force or faith, from reaction to sacred response.
