“The righteous is like the red heifer—he purifies the impure, but defiles the pure.”
At first glance, this statement seems contradictory. But within its paradox lies a profound truth about the nature of holiness. In the Torah, the red heifer is appointed for a unique sacrifice. Its ashes were used to purify those who had been defiled by death—the deepest touch of human finitude. Yet those who handled the ashes themselves became unclean. It is not an ordinary offering, but a mysterious and almost scandalous one. And so too is the tzaddik—the righteous person—one who breaks expectations.
In Hasidic wisdom, the righteous is not merely someone who keeps the law. He is not an angel without sin standing high above others. He is one who descends, who enters the darkness, who touches the impurity of others to purify them. He bears the pain and weakness of those rejected by society. Like Jesus, who touches lepers, eats with sinners, and is anointed by a prostitute. The righteous is not pure because of separation, but because of compassion.
Yet precisely for this reason, he is also “unsettling.” To those who believe they are pure, who have sheltered themselves from the world’s stains, the righteous is a scandal. His presence shatters the illusion of purity, revealing that purity without mercy is not purity at all, but pride. That is why he can “defile” even those who consider themselves already clean.
The righteous is like Christ, who “became sin for us, though he knew no sin” (2 Corinthians 5:21). He descends to the lowest places, where no one remains untouched—and yet, by this descent, he brings salvation. In his hands are ashes—ashes of pain, of suffering, of death—and with them, he cleanses the world.
But who is ready to receive such a righteous one? Who can bear that God’s servant comes defiled with the dust of impurity and still carries holiness? Who understands that in this mystery, God Himself is hidden?
