This shall be for them a law for all time. The one who sprinkled the water of purification shall wash his clothes; and whoever touches the water of purification shall be impure until evening.
Bamidbar 19:21
No one has done more for the city of Amsterdam, the place where I was born, than Dr. Samuel Serphati (1813-1866). Dr. Serphati was a deeply religious Jew and President of the Portuguese Spanish Jewish Community in Amsterdam, which had built the famous “Esnoga” Portuguese synagogue in the year 1675. At the time it was the largest synagogue in the world.
Dr. Serphati single-handedly changed the city of Amsterdam and made it into a prosperous modern city. In his days, Amsterdam had fallen into poverty, its iconic canals were polluted, emitting a terrible smell throughout the city. Rats roamed freely in the slums, where large families lived, often in one room. Cholera epidemics killed thousands of people yearly, and other diseases, such as scarlet fever, caused rampant child mortality. There was no fresh air, no clean water, and healthy food was available only to the rich. Even bread was often contaminated and extremely expensive.
The majority of Amsterdam’s Jews shared these dire circumstances. While in the seventeenth century, Amsterdam was the center of commerce, art and high culture—a popular travel destination—this was no longer the case.
Dr. Serphati, a physician by profession, realized that Amsterdam needed a complete makeover, in order to return to its former grandeur. The city council of Amsterdam, at first skeptical of his plans, ultimately came around and provided the funds. Serphati also championed the creation of a bank, a bread factory, and a center for industry, concerts, and other activities called the “Paleis van Volksvlijt”. the Palace for Industry of the People, a kind of glass palace in the French classic style.
(My father z”l still remembered how this building went up in flames in 1929 to the great sorrow of all Amsterdammers)
Serphati also had the famous “Amstel Hotel” built which is still the most luxurious hotel in the city. When Serphati died at the age of 53, all of Amsterdam stood in the streets and canals when his coffin passed by on its way to the Portuguese Spanish Jewish cemetery in the city of Ouderkerk close to Amsterdam. This is the cemetery where my parents and some of my grandparents going back generations have been buried since 1614.
The forgotten heroes of progress
When one hears this story and similar stories of great innovators throughout the world, there is one matter which always seems to slip below the attention of history: the tens of thousands of people who had to do the dirty work to make it all happen. The disgusting work of cleaning out the canals, the trapping of the rats, the removals of the rancid pollutants, year after year—all of it would been demeaning to anyone. We do not know how many people became ill, and how many workers died under those conditions. It must have been horrendous.
No doubt, Dr. Serphati realized the enormous price these people paid so that others and many generations after them could live a healthy life in Amsterdam. There was no option. Amsterdam had to be saved from it is own desolation. And thousands of people had to be sacrificed to make it to happen. And these people have been forgotten. There is no mention of them in our history books. There is only silence.
To this day, there are many unpleasant jobs that must be done if we want the world to run smoothly, and modern life to be livable. There are the pest exterminators, sewer inspectors, septic cleaners, trash collectors…There are so many jobs that, while difficult and menial, form the backbone of our society.
The paradox of purification
In a remarkable article[1], Rabbi Pini Dunner draws attention to the mysterious law in the days of Temple concerning the Parah Aduma, the Red Heifer. This animal was slaughtered, burned, and its ashes mixed with water and some other ingredients:
The cow shall be burned in [the priest’s] sight—its hide, flesh, and blood shall be burned, including its dung. The priest shall take cedar wood, hyssop, and crimson material, and throw them into the fire consuming the cow.[2]
Anyone who had become ritually defiled by contact with the dead would come to the priest and have this mixture springled over him or her, in order to become ritually clean again.
This is a nearly incomprehensible law and many commentators have tried to make sense of it.
But what is even stranger is that the people who were involved in the preparation of this ritual water themselves became unclean: “The one who sprinkled the water of purification shall wash his clothes; and whoever touches the water of purification shall be impure until evening.”
This is very odd, almost paradoxical. How can it be that the same ritual that made people clean again would defile those who prepared the cleansing water?
Rabbi Dunner suggests an intriguing theory: the ritual teaches us that even in matters of religious observance, which often requires hard work by the community, somebody pays the price.
Let me elaborate on what I believe Rabbi Dunner is getting at: To prepare this cleansing “holy” water was far from an easy job. The slaughtering and burning of the Heifer to ashes, the mixing of the ashes with water and other ingredients, and the sprinkling of the concoction on the person who was unclean was a highly unpleasant job, to say the least. The one who had to sprinkle the water on the unclean person himself paid a price so that another could become ritually clean.
However, this does not explain why he became ritually impure till the evening. What is the meaning behind this process? And why would anybody be prepared to do this kind of work?
In reality, there is only one answer: For human beings to do this kind of work, it is necessary for them to have the capacity to look beyond the labor itself. It requires idealism. The motivation is disconnected from the actual work. A human being is able to have an ideal in mind, a dream and a vision far beyond the here and now.
In the case of the Red Heifer the ultimate motivation is the knowledge that one is doing a mitzva by keeping the Israelites ritually pure, and the service in the Temple intact.
By making the person performing this service pay a price beyond the physical, the act itself becomes meaningful and significant.
This may be the reason why the Torah insists on the fact that not only was the physical act difficult, but specifically the spiritual implication was of utmost importance. The Talmud has a phrase for this principle: Lefum tza’ara agra—the greater the effort, the greater the reward. The more we sacrifice, the greater the significance.
In search of greater meaning
It would be a vital mistake to believe that those who did the difficult and debasing work of cleaning up Amsterdam, its canals, and its contaminated neighborhoods were motivated by nothing more than being paid a salary. Many of them must have realized that all their menial work had a higher purpose. They were enabling others to live a heathy life. Their work stopped the spread of devastating illnesses, such as cholera and scarlet fever.
It must have given them satisfaction to know that they were building a better world for their children and others for generations to come.
Perhaps this is the secret to the mysterious ritual of the Red Heifer. It brings home to us the truth—both terrible and uplifting—that building a better future requires sacrifice. Let us never take this kind of service for granted.
Notes
[1] Rabbi Pini Dunner, Hearts and Minds: An Original Look at Each Parsha in the Torah (Otzrot Books, 2021), 500. Rabbi Dunner mentions the reality show called Dirty Jobs by Mike Rowe, with nearly 170 episodes, in which he discusses the most disgusting jobs people have to do for a living (or a mission).
[2] Bamidbar 19:5–6.
Questions to Ponder
- This essay exposes a truth that is both unsettling and ennobling: that progress, holiness, and civilization are never free—and that those who bear the cost are often the least remembered. Rabbi Cardozo highlights the forgotten workers who paid the price for Amsterdam’s renewal.
- Why does history so consistently remember visionaries and erase laborers? What does this say about how we define greatness?
- The Red Heifer purifies others while defiling those who prepare it. Does this reflect a deeper moral truth — that those who sustain society often absorb its impurity? Where do you see this dynamic today?
- In light of the fact that many essential jobs are unpleasant, dangerous, and socially invisible, do you feel that Jewish ethics should place greater emphasis on honoring such work? How might that reshape communal values?
- What concrete practices — whether personal or communal — might cultivate genuine gratitude toward those who do society’s dirtiest work?
- The Red Heifer ritual makes the cost of purification explicit. By contrast, modern societies often hide the human cost of progress. How do we ensure that the same people are not always the ones who pay the price? Does moral responsibility increase when cost is visible?
- The essay suggests that meaningful work often requires idealism beyond immediate reward. Do you believe modern society still cultivates this capacity — or has meaning been reduced to compensation and status?
- The Red Heifer is a Chok — a law beyond reason. Do you think its ethical message becomes clearer precisely because it resists rational explanation? If so, what does this suggest about how morality is sometimes taught?
