d’var torah
Filling in the Blanks
BY RABBI SHAWN ZEVIT
T Parshat Hukkat
he word hukka, or decree, is
associated with the word haki-
kah, or engraving. Th e Torah
is to be in our hearts like an engraving,
etched into our very being — part of
our very nature. Parshat Hukkat con-
tains a rich array of rituals and key
events in the life of Moshe (Moses) and
our people in the wilderness years.

We have the mysterious ashes of
the red heifer, a not easily rationalized
ritual, from which our sages under-
stood hukkim as laws oft en beyond
our everyday understanding. We have
Moses hitting the rock, costing him
passage across the Jordan; Miriam and
Aaron die aft er a lifetime of service
to the birth of the people of Israel,
no longer only the tribes. Th ere are
more murmurings amidst the populace
just prior to an outbreak of poisonous
snakes, at which time Moshe fashions a
copper snake that helps as an antidote
for faith and healing.

Yet, in the ever-unfolding cycle or
spiral of a lifetime in which we engage
and re-engage our sacred texts, it is the
grand leap of 38 non-narrated years
that takes place in this parshah that
is oft en overlooked, given the power-
ful events in the parsha. It is into this
Jeck Continued from Page 22
students would run across the sand
shouting, “Dr. Jeck!”
Fift een years ago, Daniel Jeck was
interviewing a secretarial candidate for
his law offi ce. Th e woman told him she
knew his last name because of his father.

Th e OB/GYN had delivered both of her
babies. When Dara Jeck was giving birth to
the fi rst of her own two children, two
people walked into her hospital room.

silence of years that I invite you to join
me in a creative imagining of what
Moses might have privately thought
as he and the Israelites arrived and
encamped in the Jordan Valley.

I off er this in our tradition of midrash,
that our sages and people have done for
centuries, of seeking out interpretations
and imaginations to explore not only the
written black letters in the Torah, but
also the white space between them:
“I am opening my diary for the fi rst
time in decades, now that we are fi nally
closing in our lifelong dream, one which
most of my generation will not have lived
to see in our forty-two stops since leaving
Mitzrayim forty years ago. Where have the
years gone? Not a word written of the last
thirty-eight, except in my heart’s silence,
and in the knowing poignant look Joshua,
Caleb and I exchange on occasion.

In the blink of an eye, the wilderness
is no more. Fading memories of laying
Miriam to rest, her sustaining waters ebb-
ing away as our tears failed to fi ll in the
drought that followed. Ah, bitter waters
overcame me, Source of Life, and I struck
the rock — consigning me to my genera-
tion’s attitudes and a lapse of faith. Years of
pent-up feelings burst forth, shattering the
sustaining utterance You had been for me
these long desert years. Th en in sight of all
Israel, Aaron’s days ended as I took the
garments off his aged torso and placed
them on the shoulders of a new genera-
Th ey asked if Jeck was around. Th ey
had heard that a Jeck was in one of the
rooms. Later in his career, the doctor got
angry that he had to turn his back on
patients to enter data into a computer.

“He didn’t want to turn his back for
any second on anybody,” Dara Jeck
said. Jeck “got a kick out of being well-
known,” according to his son. Daniel
Jeck said his father “had an ego, but it
was a really healthy ego.”
Superman was also just a man. He
tion, which knew not Egypt.”
“And now I too hear You calling me
to sing a fi nal song — a song I will only
sing once with the breath still in me.

Yet, I feel strangely relieved. It is as if all
the losses, and my own shattering, has
brought peace to my heart. I have fi nally
become a free man. At fi rst, I only felt
remorse and grief — I would not taste
the milk and honey of which we had
dreamed. But now, with the future in
fi rmer hands, I can spend my remaining
days pouring out my soul to you without
concern for status or merit.

I now see how hard I made it for Your
people by agreeing to their demand that
only I talk to You on their behalf. For
in that moment, the intimacy you and
I shared, was no longer theirs as well.

I awoke today on the Plains of Moab,
Jericho before me. Th ough I will not see
the other side of the Jordan, I am no
longer a stranger in a strange land. I am
home, in You, once again.”
What might your words be if you gave
the gaps in your own life story, your
own Jewish spiritual journey, a voice?
What actions are important for you to
take, not only ponder in relation to our
world now that will help us all in our
collective human journey toward the
promise of a future that evades us now?
What are the moments and events along
the journey of your life that do not get
mentioned or have been lost to time
sometimes complained about being on
call all the time. But it also energized
him. Th e doctor chose medicine over
playing the violin and, as an adult, the
instrument became his only hobby.

When he was not working, he tried to
be with the family that he created with
his wife of 64 years. As Jeck grew older,
just as his career took on a second act
at PCOM, his family life did, too, as he
became a grandfather of four. Th e Jecks
hosted the family at their apartment
in Margate, New Jersey, and when the
grandkids would arrive, grandpa would
that may hold wisdom and meaning if
you refl ected on them or with curiosity
asked others about them?
May we all fi nd what is deeply
engraved in our hearts that connects
us to a meaningful, just, caring and
inspiring life. May we double down to
stay engaged and work for laws that
free people from oppression and con-
trol of their bodies or limiting their
lives due to fear of violent aggression
and murderous weapons, race, religion,
abilities or socioeconomic class. Th e
hukkim (the engraved laws) we estab-
lished aft er leaving Mitzrayim were to
do exactly this. May all our actions and
choices lessen the sadness for the life
unlived and increasing the fulfi llment
and gratitude for the love, justice, and
compassion we expressed and lived out
in this one precious life. JE
Rabbi Shawn Israel Zevit is rabbi at
Mishkan Shalom in Philadelphia. Th e
Board of Rabbis of Greater Philadelphia
is proud to provide diverse perspectives
on Torah commentary for the Jewish
Exponent. Th e opinions expressed in
this column are the author’s own and
do not refl ect the view of the Board of
Rabbis. immediately say, “Let’s go to Lucy (the
Elephant)!” “I would say, ‘We just got here,’” Dara
Jeck recalled, laughing.

But they went anyway and came
home with Lucy sweatshirts and faces
stained with water ice.

One day in late June, Dara Jeck was
at her father-in-law’s house to clean it
out when she ran into his neighbor. Th e
woman told her he was “such a great
man.” JE
jsaff ren@midatlanticmedia.com
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