Parashat Korah: It’s Not About You

One of the greatest dangers for any leader is believing that he or she  is naturally endowed with authority, that a holding a title automatically means that the person in authority will receive respect and adulation. Instead, Ronald Heifetz and Marty Linsky argue that an effective leader must recognize that authority is given in return for a person fulfilling a specific purpose, and it is the fulfilling of that purpose that leads to reader.  They write:

“If you find yourself heroically stepping into the breach to restore order, it is important to remember that the authority gain is a product of social expectations.   To believe it comes from you is an illusion.  Don’t let it get to your head.   People grant you power because they expect you to provide them with a service.   If you lose yourself in relishing the acclaim and power people give you, rather than on providing the services people will need to restore their adaptability, ultimately you jeopardize your own source of authority” (Ronald A. Heifetz and Marty Linsky, Leadership on the Line, 168-169).

Well aware that many leaders develop a love affair with their own authority, Heifetz and Linsky urge us to see authority as a product of service, a lesson that we learn in Parashat Korah.    While Korah’s critiques of Moses may appear reasonable on a first-reading, our rabbis will argue that Korah is someone who misunderstands the nature of authority, and that misunderstanding lies at the root of his heresy.

Upon challenging Moses and Aaron, Korah audaciously asks, “Why do you uplift yourselves over the congregation of Adonai?” (Bemidbar 16:3).   Looking at the context of our parasha, many of our earlier commentaries argue that Korah’s critique is rooted in the fact that Moses and Aaron, two brothers, hold both the highest political and religious positions of the Israelites.   Regarding this verse, Rashi states that  “It is one thing for you [Moses] to have taken the kingship for yourself- but you shouldn’t have have assigned the priesthood to Aaron” (Rashi on 16:3), and Ibn Ezra states, “Making Aaron the High Priest and Moses, who taught him what to do, even higher than him [is the root of Korah’s critique]” (Ibn Ezra 16:3).  In each case, our commentaries assume that Korah rebels because he’s angry that Moses’ family is holding all the levers of religious and political power.

However, later Hasidic commentaries note that Korah’s critiques cannot be taken at face value, because Korah himself misunderstands the nature of Moses’ authority.   Rabbi Simha Bunim of Pshischa argues that Korah’s critique that Moses is drunk with power absurd, for the Torah explicitly tells several times that Moses is humble and meek, and never sought the position he was ultimately given:

“In a dispute with righteous men, usually those who engross in such conflict attribute to these men traits which are the total opposite of their true character.  The Torah specifically states that Moshe Rabbeinu “was very meek, above all the men that were on the face of the earth.”   His opposers, wishing to find fault with him, centered on arrogance of all things, for which to attack their leader!  We can see how great the power of corruption is when a dispute is not for the sake of Heaven.   It distorts and blinds even the wisest of men, causing them to lose all logic and sense.  What greater folly could there be than to accuse Moshe Rabbeinu of being arrogant!?!” (Rabbi Simha Bunim of Pshischa, Itturei Torah on Bemidbar 16:3).   

In this commentary, Korah’s rebellion is blasphemous because he attacks Moses for something that the Torah explicitly says that Moses is not.    Rather than looking at the true roots of Moses’ authority, namely devotion to God, Korah tries to convince others that Moses has overstepped his authority.

Taking a different approach,  Rabbi Meshullam Feivish of Zabriza writes in Yosher Divrei Emet that while no leader can avoid developing some degree of arrogance, Korah’s mistake assuming that only Moses was drunk with power, that Korah himself had not already fallen into the same trap.    The Yosher Divrei Emet states that Korah, “could not believe that Moses did everything by the word of God and that he was in truth so humble and lowly,” and Korah “never imagined that that he might bear a sense of grandiosity.” In contrast, the Yosher Divrei Emet argues that Moses’s awareness of his blindspots was his greatest strenght as a leader, an incredibly important lesson for all of us as we think about what it means to show religious leadership.   The commentary states:  

“[Learn from Moses’s own reluctance to lead] not to compete for any mitzvah that has an aspect of authority in it.   Flee from such a thing.  If it is right for you, God will force the whole world to make that opportunity for leadership come your way.  But weigh this matter with deep thought and a sense of pure justice, asking God’s help that no evil urge lead you to oppose His will” (Yosher Divrei Emet #30, 33-34).

No matter who we are, or what position is given to us in the Jewish Community, the challenge is for us to realize that authority and power are only for the purpose of serving God and advancing the Jewish people.    Power in and of itself is the approach of Korah, the belief that what position you hold makes you inherently better than others.    Therefore, we must teach our children what it means to be leaders, but be leaders for a divine purpose, devoted to fulfilling a particular mission, rather than achieving personal gain.   

This will be the last Dvar Torah from Schechter for the year, as the site will go on hiatus for the summer. In just two years, Schechter has been visited over 22,000 times, and I hope that next year will provide an opportunity to expand the learning opportunities made available by this site.   Until September, keep studying, keep learning, and have a wonderful summer.

Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Shelakh Lekha: Covenantal Words

Rabbi Abraham Heschel said that “One of the major symptoms of the general crisis existent in our world today is our lack of sensitivity to words,” our collective choice to looks words are tools, things that simply drive conversation.  Instead, Heschel argues that “words are a repository of the spirit,” that within each there is the potential to sanctify or de-sanctify our lives by how we use words, and thus we must learn how “repair the vessels” of ordinary language.    I thought about this teaching from Heschel as I read this week’s parasha, where how words are used caused a practical reconnaissance mission to lead the Israelites to a spiritual crisis with the potential to destroy the covenant.

Parashat Shelakh Lekha contains the extended drama of the Moses, the spies sent to survey the land of Canaan, the Israelite nation, and God, where a report from the majority of spies that the land of Canaan was unconquerable placed the entire covenantal relationship between the Israelites and God in danger. For our commentators, the sin of the spies is difficult to identify precisely, leading our commentators to argue that some some kind of falsity must be contained in the report itself.   Rashi alludes to this idea in his commentary on the spies statement that the land of Canaan “is an emitter of milk and sweetness,” for while this comment may appear positive about Canaan, Rashi states that, “Any lie that does not begin with a little truth is not upheld (viz. does not acquire credibility)” (Rashi on Bemidbar 13:27).  Our later commentators from the medieval period through the present will be left to determine what precisely was the “lie” in the spies’ report.

For the Ramban, the sin of the spies is implicitly understood through a close-reading of the parasha, for the statement that the spies “produced” a report tells the reader all they need to know about the crime implicit in the report.   The Ramban states:

“Note that one who ‘produces a report’ is a liar who gives false facts, whereas one who tells the truth is referred to as one who ‘brings a report’- compare ‘Joseph brought a detrimental report about them to their father’ (Genesis 37:2).   It was for this that the spies were punished with death (in a plague), as explained in 14:37: ‘The men who had produced a detrimental report on the land died in a plague before God’” (Ramban on Bemidbar 13:32).

According to the Ramban, the Torah telling us that the spies “produced a report” means that the report itself was not an objective analysis of Canaan, but rather a tale that the spies wanted to tell Moses and the Israelites.  As a result, the sin of the spies was that they lied in their report, painting a picture that might be a description of the land as they understood, but not the land as it was.

However, given the fact that the spies who were punished offered a similar report to Joshua and Caleb, we can question the accuracy of the Ramban’s interpretation, for how is it possible that all spies “produced” a report, and it was only the opinion of two of them that made their report “true” and the other report “false.”   Taking a different approach, Rabbi Isaac Arama, author of the Akedat Yitzhak, argues that while nothing that the spies said was technically false, the fact that the spies offered an opinion at all was their sin.  He writes:

“They exceed their terms of reference as spies and appointed themselves as advisors.  This recalls the case of a man who sent his representative to visit a clothing shop and look at a particular garment they had for sale.   ‘Examine the quality of the material, its length and width, and its appearance, and give me a report, because I want to buy it.’   On his return the representative reported ‘I have seen it, the material is good, it is long and wide, but it is greenish (or reddish) and it is very expensive, about a thousand gold coins.’  He thereby exceeded his terms of reference as a reporter and turned himself into an advisor” (Akedat Yitzhak on Bemidbar 13:27).

According to the Akedat Yizhak, the spies were asked to describe the land of Canaan; no more, no less. However, when the spies returned with their report, the mixed their report with an evaluation of prospects of taking the land.   By exceeding the bounds of their mandate from Moses, the spies caused havoc to ensue amongst the Israelites, thereby making the spies complicit in a societal breakdown that only occurred because they did not follow the directions given to them.

Taking a look at the implications of our parasha, Rabbi Moses Hirsch Segal wrote that the even if the spies had genuine doubts about the ability of the Israelites to conquer the land of Canaan, the spies should have realized that any obstacles to conquest would be overcome because of God’s covenant.  However, the spies’ report completely ignored God’s role in taking the Israelites to the promised land, and Segal that this is why God’s punishment was so harsh.   Segal writes (emphasis mine):

"The sin of the nation in the matter of the spies was, like the sin of the golden calf, an enormous act that changed the whole course of the history of that generation. For just as the sin of the golden calf involved a breach of the covenant... so the sin involving the spies was a breach of the covenant and a rejection of God's promise that the land of Canaan would be an inheritance for Israel... Therefore we find that only in the case of these two sins did God desire to punish the nation with complete annihilation, and to establish a new generation from the seed of Moshe... (Bamidbar 14:12; Shemot 32:10). Likewise, only in relation to these two sins did Moshe claim in his prayer... that this (the destruction of the nation) would involve a desecration of God's name…” (Moses Hirsch Segal, Masort U-Bikoret, 90, translation from Yeshivat Har Etzion).

Rabbi Segal’s commentary introduces the notion that faith plays a larger role in our parasha that any of us might realize from a first-reading.   Yes, an objective report of the land of Canaan would lead anyone to conclude that human conquest would be a difficult proposition, yet it should have been understood that Canaan would not need to be conquered by human effort alone, but rather through the covenantal partnership between the Israelites and God.   In fact, the reason that Joshua is rewarded for his report about Canaan is because he does not deny the difficulties of conquest, but states that, “If the Lord desires us, He will bring us to this land and give it to us, a land flowing with milk and honey” (Bemidbar 14:8), a simultaneously recognition of the challenges and covenant.   According to Segal, since the spies and that Israelite generation forgot what it means to be in relationship with God, “only the next generation would achieve a renewal of the intimate relationship between God and His nation, Israel, via Moshe, God's servant," a biblical do-over for the Jewish people and God.   

I have no doubt that the spies had their reasons for speaking to Moses and the people the way that they did, yet perhaps the above commentaries all reflect the teaching from Heschel that words are not merely tools, but can used in way that ennoble or debase the spirit.   As begin to wind down another year at Schechter, our challenge is to ask ourselves how are using words, what power those words hold, and what we can do to ensure that our children will learn from our parasha how to use words in a way that strengthen our entire community.   

Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Behaalotekha: A Raw and Real Faith

From the time we are young, we are taught that the Torah represents the paradigm of divine obedience and devotion, that it is a statement of true love between the Jewish people and God.  However, we often lose sight of the fact that the Torah itself contains an ongoing struggle between God and humanity, where the God provides everything that humanity needs to survive, yet humanity does not keep up our end of the bargain by choosing ignore the source of their bounty. As readers of the text, we must figure out a way to see these acts of public doubt as lessons that enlarge our faith, rather than contract it.   Regarding this tension, James Fowler writes in Stages of Faith that, “Doubt and struggle aren’t necessarily [an indication of] rejecting one’s faith, but perhaps longing for a more intimate relationship with the Holy,” a lesson that we learn from this week’s parasha.

Parashat Behaalotekha officially begins the Israelites’ march from the foot of Mount Sinai to the land of Canaan. However, almost immediately upon leaving Mount Sinai in chapter 10 of Sefer Bemidbar, the Israelites complain that God is not providing them satisfactory food in chapter 11, leaving the people on the brink of rebellion against Moses and God.  Rabbi Nathaniel Helfgot points out that the the eleventh chapter of Sefer Bemidbar contains a linguistic devices that alludes to the kind of tension that emerges between God and the Israelites.   According to Helfgot, the words basar (flesh) and ruah (spirit) occur as a pair twenty-one times in fourteen verses of the Torah.   However, seven of those verses, and more than half of the pairings, are in Sefer Bemidbar, and five of those seven verses are in this chapter of our parasha.   Given the tensions expressed in chapter 11 of Sefer Bemidbar, Helfgot argues that the use of this linguisitic device,

“exhibits the fundamental tension of this chapter.  Which realm will dominate?  Will it be the Flesh and what it represents in terms of physical and immediate gratification, or will it be the Spirit, representing the Word of God and His mission for the Jews” (Nathaniel Helfgot, Mikra and Meaning: Studies in Bible and Its Interpretation, 109)

Helfgot's analysis seems particularly accurate when we think about this chapter in the context of Sefer Bemidar, as a whole. The famous events of Sefer Bemidbar, including Moses striking the rock, the twelve spies, the rebellion of Korah, and others, indicate a tension between whether the Israelites can remain devoted to God (i.e. spirit), or will they be devoted to their own material desires (i.e. flesh).

In fact, Jacob Milgrom argues in his commentary that the tension is even greater in our parasha than Helgot suggests, for the kind of critiques brought by the Israelites to Moses about God are tantamount to denying God’s existence, in particular the criticisms about the food the Israelites ate in Egypt.  Milgrom writes (emphasis mine):

“In Exodus 16:11-13, the quail (as well as the manna) were God’s gracious gift to Israel in response to its hankering after meat (Exodus 16:3) in order that they may behold the Lord’s power and, henceforth, trust in Him (Exodus 16:4, 6, 12).  By contrast the gift of quail in verse 20 of this passage is given in anger and will result in many fatalities (vv. 33-34).  God’s words expose the real reason behind the complaint: The craving for meal expresses a disguised desire to return to Egypt and is tantamount to a rejection of God (v. 20)” (Jacob Milgrom, JPS Torah Commentary: Numbers, 88).

According to Milgrom, while the hunger of the Israelites immediately following the exodus from Egypt was the cry of an oppressed people who needed to feel that God would provide for them, the hunger of the Israelites in our parasha was the immature complaint of a people who saw a temporary hardship as a sign that God was a fraud.   Milgrom’s commentary offers a window into how even a complaint that appears reasonable on the surface can actually reveal a far more dramatic critique of God.

At the same time, Jack Miles, the former Jesuit who wrote God: A Biography, asserts that while that the dialogue in this chapter reveals an enormous tension between God and the Israelites, the fact that the Torah preserves that tension says something important about the Torah itself.   Miles writes:

“Morally, the originality of the same ancient authors and editors lies in their refusal to “ennoble” either God or Israel by making their story merely one of estrangement and reconciliation rather than, as it is, one one of continuous mutual complaint.  Structurally, a simplification of that sort could have easily been managed.  What would have changed would have been less the story line than the distinctive emotional tone--the spirit, in a word.   By preserving the spirit of complaint--complaint against man in the name of God, and against God in his own name--on its first full-blown appearance, the ancient editors set something portentous in motion” (Jack Miles, God: A Biography, 133).

According to Miles, while we might recognize that the Israelites’ complaints are theologically audacious and religiously problematic, the fact that the Torah preserves those complaints means that the Torah wants us to know that it is possible, and even permitted, to express open doubts about God.   Like the Israelites, our relationship to God must exist in a dynamic tension, and we must know that expressing those feelings may be a sign of doubt, yet it is also a sign that we are human.  

When we teach our children about God, we are asking them to put their faith in something they cannot see, and it may be a too wide leap of faith to ask those children to embrace a relationship with God that makes no room for doubt, disobedience, or disbelief.   While the Torah acknowledges that tension with God is messy, it is that messiness that characterizes any kind of relationship, and thus we must help our children work through the messiness, seeing how a relationship with God is that raw, but real, is the very kind of relationship we want them to develop.    The more we help our children see that expressing doubt opens a holy space, the more our children will feel that the Jewish Community is the holy space in which they want to travel for throughout their Jewish lives.

Shabbat Shalom!