Hashem wants a relationship with us, whether we understand Him or not

“This is the chok of the Torah… take for you a red-haired, unblemished cow….” (Bamidbar 19:2)

Parah Adumah is the ultimate chok, because it contains an internal contradiction. How can the same object make the administrator unpure, while purifying the recipient? One might easily conclude that Parah Adumah simply makes no sense. This, however, is undoubtably false. (Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein, based on Daas Torah by Rav Yerucham Levovitz)

“But, why?”

This wasn’t a toddler’s whining, but old-lady-me trying to figure this out. I was standing with my sons, staring at the mysterious innards of my car engine. My sons are very mechanically inclined. They get it from their father. Me, I’m able to fill my car with gas, and that’s as much as I know about its inner workings.

But then the car’s AC broke. There are some necessities in life and some luxuries. To me, AC is a necessity. Like a pikuach nefesh necessity. But our local mechanic couldn’t fix this. (That’s because the car is so old he didn’t have the parts.) It meant going to a special mechanic in Yerushalayim.

Confession: I’ve never taken the car to a mechanic. Ever. I wouldn’t even understand what he’d tell me needs to be fixed. (We recently replaced the fuel ejector pump. Do you know what that is?)

But Hashgachah had it that this mechanic was two seconds away from where I work. So taking a deep breath, I brought the car in. I do know how to say AC in Hebrew.

Hashem’s decision to leave a chok incomprehensible shows an important principle.

Take a common object like a car. Most people have some curiosity how it works. When they understand the basics of engines, tires etc., they think they now understand cars. The fact that every new fact adds a host of new questions doesn’t faze them as they feel they have some grasp of the workings as opposed to no idea at all.

Every mitzvah, without exception, has its reasons. Even if the reasons leave many questions unanswered, still they make it easier for people to engage.

Nonetheless, we find that Hashem chose to withhold reasons from a small number of mitzvos that we call chukim. Why?

At the end of my workday, the AC was fixed. I drove home, patting myself on the back for having learned a new skill even in the midst of my midlife crisis (that’s been going on for ten years…).

Never pat yourself on the back too soon (and surely not when you’re driving). A car started cutting me off, and I immediately slammed on the brakes and hit the horn. But silence. The horn didn’t work! I tried again. Nothing.

Suppose there’s a teacher who explains every aspect of each lesson to its fullest, so the students are left with no questions. They may know the material, but their acceptance of their teacher’s words is predicated first on their own understanding. There’s no relationship with the teacher himself.

Chukim are to remind us that we never fully understand any part of Torah. Hashem wants a relationship with us, whether we understand Him or not.

I came home dispirited. Somehow in fixing the AC, the horn broke. Why? All my boys tried to bang on the horn (breaking it permanently?).

“Don’t worry Ma, we’ll figure this out,” said Son A.

“Pop the hood, Ma,” said Son B.

And since I didn’t know how to do that, Son C demonstrated. That’s how I came to be standing with my sons staring at the mysterious innards of my car. They stood there in a huddle, murmuring among themselves (pretending they knew what they’re doing).

Then Shloime, bored, went back to the great game of punching the horn to see if it worked.

TOOT! His older brothers jumped. TOOOT!

Shloime was thrilled at his power. Big bros were less than thrilled that it was Shloime who’d “fixed” the horn. And me, I was thrilled I didn’t need to head back to the mechanic.

“But why did it break? my boys wondered. “And why did Shloime fix it?”

“It doesn’t matter why, kids, as long as it works.”

I don’t know if they appreciated the deep philosophical lesson I was trying to teach them.

Life is full of, “Why on earth did…?” But within the question lies the answer. We have our whys, because we’re here on earth.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 950)