Parshat Korach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
While there are a few ways to look at the conflict that consumes the first part of Parshas Korach, it seems there are two distinct complaints.
Korach (cousin to Moshe and Aharon) seems to claim – the entire nation is holy, who gave you a monopoly on holiness leadership?
Dasan and Aviram are more concerned because "Af lo el eretz zavas chalav udvash haviosanu" – you made all kinds of promises, but you haven’t brought us to the Goldene Medinah that you promised – and you won't, apparently, because of the latest incident with the spies. Now we're all going to die in the desert.
Korach challenges Aharon’s right to be Kohen Gadol (some will argue he is also challenging the fact that Elzaphan, another cousin, was chosen as leader of the tribe of Levi), while Dasan and Aviram challenge Moshe as a leader.
Rashi explains that Moshe called Dasan and Aviram (who did not come to him) and Rashi says: מכאן שאין מחזיקין במחלוקת, שהיה משה מחזר אחריהם להשלימם בדברי שלום:
Artscroll records this Rashi, but with a flowery language. "Moses appealed to other leaders of the revolt, even to the veteran provocateurs, Dasan and Aviram. From this the sages derive that one should always seek to end a controversy."
Looking at the tale objectively, we know that Korach and co. were concocting a recipe for disaster. As a recipe always has a few ingredients, let us explore three of them that made up this avoidable disaster.
Ingredient #1: When only one side is willing to actually have a conversation
The only person in all this story who seems to respect and who seems to want to address the opinions held by others is Moshe. Korach certainly doesn't respect others' opinions. He has goals that are only self-serving and he tells everyone we'll all be equal.
Seforno notes how Moshe identified with their grievances! He wanted to talk things out. But there was no partner in the conversation.
Korach, Dasan and Aviram all had wonderfully logical arguments. But the problem they posed to Moshe was not so much in their logic as much as in their entire approach to whatever it was they were trying to accomplish. And herein lies the second ingredient in the recipe for disaster.
Ingredient #2: Thinking I don’t need a spiritual guide
Rabbi Soloveitchik recounted the Midrash quoted by Rashi in which Korach came before Moshe wearing a techeiles (blue) colored tallis, asking Moshe if it required a techeiles string in its tzitzis. To which Moshe of course said it does.
Rabbi Soloveitchik went on to explain that "In the Torah, as in life, there are some things which are clear to all and easily understood, while other things are hidden and contain very deep secrets which may even be quite difficult to understand. This may even be the symbolism between the white strings and the blue string or strings of the tzitzis.
"The white strings of the tzitzis represent things which are clearly spelled out and understood. The blue threads represent things which are hidden from us, which we are incapable of understanding. The gemara in Menachos includes an analogy which many may be familiar with from Rashi: Techeiles is reminiscent of the sea, the sea is reminiscent of the sky, and the sky is reminiscent of God's throne of Glory.
"Well, we have no concept of the Throne of Glory, the sky and sea are so vast we can hardly conceive of them. We therefore need to have the "techeiles in our tzitzis" so to speak, to remind us that every person needs a rebbe or a spiritual guide. Even the greatest scholar needs to have a rebbe, and if the rebbe is gone he needs to ask himself "What would my rebbe do in this case?"
The problem with Korach was that he felt "We were all at Sinai! We can all pasken! We all know everything! We certainly don't need you, Moshe!"
Moshe's answer that every garment would require techeiles included a symbolic message: not everything is black and white. Sometimes things are grey, [or blue, one supposes] and even you, Korach, will need someone to guide you.
Though somewhat justified in their words, Dasan and Aviram had a bigger problem than just the things they spoke about. They assumed that because logically their arguments were stronger than Moshe’s, they were correct to deny his authority and to challenge the premise of his leadership, which is actually Ingredient, #3.
Ingredient #3: Thinking we’re better off self-governing
The main problem – the last ingredient in the recipe for disaster – was that Korach, Dasan and Aviram felt there was no need for leadership. That anarchy should rule. That everyone is holy and special, which is a way of saying no one is.
Those who bought Korach’s argument lost sight of the fact that in reality he was trying to force that he should be the leader instead of Moshe, or perhaps the Kohen Gadol instead of Aharon. He may have said “everyone is holy,” but like the pigs in “Animal Farm” who argued that all animals are equal but some are more equal than others, Korach’s real goal was to demonstrate that some (himself) are more holy than others.
The impossibility of placating everyone and ending the disaster amicably
It is certainly important for a leader to exhibit compassion towards the concerns of individuals or even of the masses. But compassion and placating feelings cannot dictate policy. It can be taken into consideration, but it cannot rule the day – especially when the ideas which are put forth by compassion are detrimental to the society which otherwise works.
In Moshe’s case, he could not allow every single person who wanted to be a high priest to become one. He could not accede to the desires of Dasan and Aviram who wished to undermine his authority – which was given to him by God – because their vision of equality was a political atmosphere of anarchy.
On an individual level he could certainly feel their pain and their desire to be heard. But on a collective level, he needed to hold the nation together, especially in light of the umbrage and despair felt by some (many?) who now understood their fate was not to enter the Land, but raise their children to do just that. On a macro level, the feelings of a few individuals were a pittance in comparison to what would now be required of him to maintain stability, inspire a People, and hold together the fledgling nation through the remainder of the 40 years.
The people collectively had sinned with the spies, and the Divine punishment dictated the current generation would not enter the land of Canaan. Nothing could change that decree!
To summarize: the Recipe for Disaster has three ingredients
- Being unable to have a conversation about how to improve and to figure out steps forward
- Disrespecting the leadership position
- Believing that “no leadership” (which typically leads to anarchy) is better because “everyone is equal.”
In much of our society, people run from difficult conversations. People don’t like hard questions. People especially don’t like questions or answers that challenge their assumptions and their beliefs. Respectful conversations with those with whom we disagree help us understand one another better, and, when we don’t judge others for their different perspective, the conversation can actually draw people closer.
All people need leaders that they look to, admire, learn from, and from whom they draw inspiration. Even leaders need leaders. Sometimes the leaders of leaders have passed on and they continue to serve as inspiration to those who admired them in their lifetimes. Rabbi Soloveitchik would often stop his discourse in class and mutter aloud "I wonder what father would say about my ideas."
The opposite of the recipes of disaster are to: Listen to others' opinions. Respect the premise of the leader's position. Respect the need for there to be leadership.
Korach, Dasan and Aviram went about it absolutely in the wrong way. And their punishment is their lasting legacy.
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