 | How people navigate dispute often says more about them than whatever the dispute might be. The stakes, the context and especially one's own perceived rightness can cause good people to forget the better angels of their nature. As this week's Torah portion teaches, no one and nowhere is immune – even spiritual community. |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Parashat Korah 5784 (2024)
One of many reasons I love Torah is that she doesn't clean up for company. She doesn't hide the mess or pretend away tough stuff. Even amidst Torah's seemingly otherworldly subjects, Torah also is eminently here and now, focusing us on human life's authenticity, mess and all.
So too this week – especially this week – when a mob comes at Moses.
It's been hard getting from Egypt to the Land of Promise – so hard that eventually the people lost it. In last week's portion, the people's persisting fear of moving forward finally wore out God's patience: the people would wander another 40 years until a new generation that never knew the shackles of bondage and fear could try again.
This week, an angry mob rises up against Moses. The mob's leader is Korah, a fellow Levite who, amidst all the turbulence, finally tired of Moses' perceived superiority (Num. 16:3):
Parashat Korah 5784 (2024)
One of many reasons I love Torah is that she doesn't clean up for company. She doesn't hide the mess or pretend away tough stuff. Even amidst Torah's seemingly otherworldly subjects, Torah also is eminently here and now, focusing us on human life's authenticity, mess and all.
So too this week – especially this week – when a mob comes at Moses.
It's been hard getting from Egypt to the Land of Promise – so hard that eventually the people lost it. In last week's portion, the people's persisting fear of moving forward finally wore out God's patience: the people would wander another 40 years until a new generation that never knew the shackles of bondage and fear could try again.
This week, an angry mob rises up against Moses. The mob's leader is Korah, a fellow Levite who, amidst all the turbulence, finally tired of Moses' perceived superiority (Num. 16:3):
| וַיִּֽקָּהֲל֞וּ עַל־מֹשֶׁ֣ה וְעַֽל־אַהֲרֹ֗ן וַיֹּאמְר֣וּ אֲלֵהֶם֮ רַב־לָכֶם֒ כִּ֤י כָל־הָֽעֵדָה֙ כֻּלָּ֣ם קְדֹשִׁ֔ים וּבְתוֹכָ֖ם יהו''ה וּמַדּ֥וּעַ תִּֽתְנַשְּׂא֖וּ עַל־קְהַ֥ל יהו''ה׃ | [The mob] combined against Moses and Aaron and said to them, “You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and YHVH is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above YHVH's congregation?” |
Things goes south fast for Korah and his followers: when the earth swallowing a few didn't end matters, divine fire took out another 250. At near civil rebellion, a plague felled another 14,700. In no other Torah portion is God recorded to speak and act with such fury.
A wrathful God isn't the divinity of our yearning. And it's probably little comfort that God aims the people's reactivity back at them. Call it karma, just desserts, or collective projection of human emotion onto a relational deity: by whatever name, where went the God of love?
Equally confounding: Korah was correct that "all the community are holy, all of them, and YHVH is in their midst." Korah is spitting God's own words back: Torah records God to assure the people that God would dwell in all their midst (Ex. 25:8). Even more (Ex. 19:4-6):
A wrathful God isn't the divinity of our yearning. And it's probably little comfort that God aims the people's reactivity back at them. Call it karma, just desserts, or collective projection of human emotion onto a relational deity: by whatever name, where went the God of love?
Equally confounding: Korah was correct that "all the community are holy, all of them, and YHVH is in their midst." Korah is spitting God's own words back: Torah records God to assure the people that God would dwell in all their midst (Ex. 25:8). Even more (Ex. 19:4-6):
| אַתֶּ֣ם רְאִיתֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֥ר עָשִׂ֖יתִי לְמִצְרָ֑יִם וָאֶשָּׂ֤א אֶתְכֶם֙ עַל־כַּנְפֵ֣י נְשָׁרִ֔ים וָאָבִ֥א אֶתְכֶ֖ם אֵלָֽי׃ וְעַתָּ֗ה אִם־שָׁמ֤וֹעַ תִּשְׁמְעוּ֙ בְּקֹלִ֔י וּשְׁמַרְתֶּ֖ם אֶת־בְּרִיתִ֑י וִהְיִ֨יתֶם לִ֤י סְגֻלָּה֙ מִכָּל־הָ֣עַמִּ֔ים כִּי־לִ֖י כָּל־הָאָֽרֶץ׃ וְאַתֶּ֧ם תִּהְיוּ־לִ֛י מַמְלֶ֥כֶת כֹּהֲנִ֖ים וְג֣וֹי קָד֑וֹשׁ׃ | You all saw what I did to the Egyptians, how I bore you all on eagles’ wings and brought you to Me. Now then, if you faithfully hear My voice and keep My covenant, then you will be My treasure among all the peoples – though all the earth is Mine. You all will be to Me a nation of priests and a holy people. |
All of you – not just Moses and Aaron. So Korah was right... right?
No, because being right can go so wrong. Tradition offers that Korah committed three profound wrongs, and these wrongs were why things went south.
The first was that Korah humiliated Moses. It's right and even obligatory to offer needed correction – what in Jewish life we call a tokhekhah – but not in a wrongful way (Lev. 19:17). As a general matter (there are exceptions), tokhekhah should be gentle, private and subtle. The reason is that humiliating another is so serious an offense against another's dignity that Jewish life equates it with murder. The physical violence that unfolded against Korah and crew teaches that emotional violence might as well be shedding another's blood.
The second was that Korah denied Moses empathy. Nobody but Moses could know how difficult it was to be Moses – selected to lead a restive people and transform them amidst difficulty, navigate between God and the people, serve God, serve the people and protect the people (even from themselves). Moses was entitled to empathy as a person, empathy for the inherent difficulty of his role, and the benefit of doubt. There were reasons that Moses did as he did, but Korah wasn't curious or open-minded about them: Korah simply lashed out.
The third was that Korah sowed factionalism and thereby poisoned community. Jewish life links factionalism with theft: it robs folks of seeing multiple sides of issues and working across difference for the common good. (For an example, look no further than modern politics.) This is the "mischief of faction" that the U.S. Constitution's framers warned about in Federalist 10, and we know from history that the framers – and especially James Madison, who wrote Federalist 10 – knew their Bible. They knew that there's no greater Biblical example of mob rule and the "mischief of faction" than Korah. Under the guise of speaking for the whole community, what Korah really did was stand up for his faction, and thereby ultimately serve neither of them.
Community is hard, and spiritual community especially so. When my seminary students lament that Jewish life would be easier as an individual pursuit, I remind them that Torah doesn't clean up for company and Judaism is a team sport. Jewish values are worthy, and vital, not because they're easy but because we must live them in community, precisely in our messy world, and thereby continually refine ourselves and community together.
Only then can we truly be "a nation of priests and a holy people." Only then can we be in full communion with the loving God of our yearning. Only then can we help heal a world that needs our best selves. Only then can we right the wrongs of Korah.
No, because being right can go so wrong. Tradition offers that Korah committed three profound wrongs, and these wrongs were why things went south.
The first was that Korah humiliated Moses. It's right and even obligatory to offer needed correction – what in Jewish life we call a tokhekhah – but not in a wrongful way (Lev. 19:17). As a general matter (there are exceptions), tokhekhah should be gentle, private and subtle. The reason is that humiliating another is so serious an offense against another's dignity that Jewish life equates it with murder. The physical violence that unfolded against Korah and crew teaches that emotional violence might as well be shedding another's blood.
The second was that Korah denied Moses empathy. Nobody but Moses could know how difficult it was to be Moses – selected to lead a restive people and transform them amidst difficulty, navigate between God and the people, serve God, serve the people and protect the people (even from themselves). Moses was entitled to empathy as a person, empathy for the inherent difficulty of his role, and the benefit of doubt. There were reasons that Moses did as he did, but Korah wasn't curious or open-minded about them: Korah simply lashed out.
The third was that Korah sowed factionalism and thereby poisoned community. Jewish life links factionalism with theft: it robs folks of seeing multiple sides of issues and working across difference for the common good. (For an example, look no further than modern politics.) This is the "mischief of faction" that the U.S. Constitution's framers warned about in Federalist 10, and we know from history that the framers – and especially James Madison, who wrote Federalist 10 – knew their Bible. They knew that there's no greater Biblical example of mob rule and the "mischief of faction" than Korah. Under the guise of speaking for the whole community, what Korah really did was stand up for his faction, and thereby ultimately serve neither of them.
Community is hard, and spiritual community especially so. When my seminary students lament that Jewish life would be easier as an individual pursuit, I remind them that Torah doesn't clean up for company and Judaism is a team sport. Jewish values are worthy, and vital, not because they're easy but because we must live them in community, precisely in our messy world, and thereby continually refine ourselves and community together.
Only then can we truly be "a nation of priests and a holy people." Only then can we be in full communion with the loving God of our yearning. Only then can we help heal a world that needs our best selves. Only then can we right the wrongs of Korah.
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