Contents
Parshat Chukat: A Copper Serpent and the Fiery Snakes
In Parshat Chukat, we encounter one of the more mysterious episodes in the Torah. After the people complain once again, God sends fiery serpents among them. The people cry out, and God tells Moshe to make a copper serpent and place it on a pole. Those who look upon it are healed.
This image, which became a universal symbol of healing, points to a deeper question: Why now? Where did the snakes come from?
The answer is powerful. The snakes were always there. What had protected the Jewish people until then was the Ananei HaKavod, the protective clouds associated with Aharon HaKohen. When Aharon passed away — the great peacemaker, the unifier of the nation — the clouds disappeared. Conflict and chaos entered the camp, and the snakes attacked.
The Danger Within
This episode reveals an eternal truth. The greatest threat to the Jewish people is not what comes from the outside, but what festers from within.
The copper serpent was not a magical cure. The Mishnah teaches us that it was the act of looking upward, of turning hearts to Heaven, that brought healing. The snakes represent the constant danger. When we are divided, when we turn on one another, we become vulnerable.
And this truth sadly came to life again on October 7th.
From Internal Division to Miraculous Unity
In the lead-up to Simchat Torah 5784, what was happening in Israel? Our people were divided. Protests in Tel Aviv. Political strife. Communities and families torn apart.
Then, on October 7th, terror struck. Our nation was shattered. The world gasped.
But then something extraordinary happened.
Suddenly, it did not matter whether someone wore a black kippah, a knitted one, or no kippah at all. It did not matter how many tattoos someone had or what kind of Hebrew they spoke. We were just Jews. One family. One heart. One soul.
And with that unity came miracles.
The Fire That Builds or Burns
There is a beautiful lesson we teach every bride and groom. The Hebrew word for man is Ish. For a woman, Isha. Both words contain the letters Alef and Shin, together spelling aish, fire.
But Ish also contains a Yud, and Isha a Heh. Together, those letters form part of God’s Name.
When Hashem is in the relationship, the fire becomes one of warmth, love, and partnership. When He is absent, the fire becomes destructive.
So too with the Jewish people. We must invite Hashem into our unity, or face the danger of the fire that divides.
Seeing the Holiness in Every Jew
This year, I had the privilege of travelling to Israel with fellow rabbis. We sat with Rav Yosef Rimon and asked, “Why does it always seem like we are losing the best of the best?” Every fallen soldier feels like a national treasure.
His answer was piercing. He said, “Because the best don’t sit at home. They run to the front lines to defend the nation.”
I also visited the Nova festival site — a place of heartbreak and holiness. As I read about those who were murdered, I was struck by the light of their lives. Many of them looked different to how I would expect a “holy Jew” to appear. Tattoos. Piercings. Colourful hair.
And yet, their souls shone. They were murdered al kiddush Hashem, simply for being Jews. And in the World to Come, there is a place reserved for them that even the greatest rabbis will never reach.
And I felt pain. Because I knew I might never have connected with them in life. But now, I wish I had. They were amazing.
Har Herzl: Portraits of Holiness
At Har Herzl, the IDF allows families to personalise the graves of their fallen soldiers. Photos. Drawings. Letters. Football scarves. Pieces of a life.
You walk between the graves, read the stories, and say, “Hashem, why this one? Why them?”
We are a nation robbed of treasures.
The Rebbe’s Legacy: Infinite Worth
In all of this, I kept thinking about the Rebbe. His mission was simple but revolutionary: every Jew matters. No matter how you dress, how you live, or what you believe, your soul is priceless.
That truth has never been clearer.
We are part of a miraculous people. The Jewish story is unlike any other. So why not talk to one another more? Why not see the holiness in those sitting next to us, even if they look nothing like us?
We’ve already lost too many diamonds. Let’s not overlook the ones still right beside us.
Are We Writing the 25th Book of Tanach?
One rabbi we met said something bold. He called our times the writing of the 25th book of Tanach, Shivat Tzion 2.0. Not just the return to the Land of Israel, but the return of the Jewish people to their essence.
Is it a controversial idea? Yes.
But is it worth thinking about? Absolutely.
Because we are living history. And this story, my story, your story, is still being written.
Too Early to Tell
One of my favourite quotes comes from a French historian who was asked to describe the impact of the French Revolution. His response? “Too early to tell.”
So too with 5784.
We still mourn. We still cry. Fifty hostages are still in Gaza. We continue to bury our soldiers. And yet, we see miracles around us that cannot be denied.
The key is unity. We know what destroyed the Beit HaMikdash: baseless hatred. Only with love, compassion, and open-hearted unity can we rebuild.
Let’s not wait until it is too late. Let’s open our eyes and see each other. All of us. No matter how we look or what we believe.
Because the snakes are still out there.
But so are the miracles.
Share this post with someone who needs to hear this message today.
