SALT 2015 - Parashat Korach

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Motzaei Shabbat

            Rashi, in his commentary to Parashat Korach (16:7), cites Midrash Tanchuma’s explanation for what led Korach to his foolish decision to lead an uprising against Moshe and Aharon.  The Tanchuma explains that Korach had prophetic vision, and saw that his descendants would include the prophet Shemuel, as well as dozens of Leviyim who would later serve in the Beit Ha-mikdash and receive prophecy.  Korach said to himself, “Could it be that all this greatness will in the future emerge from me, and I will be silent?” 

            How are we to understand Korach’s reasoning?  Why should the greatness of his progeny several generations later warrant his taking bold action, such as insisting on serving as a kohen? 

            Rav Simcha Bunim of Pashischa (Kol Simcha) explains that Korach wrongly assumed that the greatness of his progeny depended on his greatness, that his influence was vital and indispensable for his descendants to reach the spiritual heights that he foresaw them achieving.  He did not realize that these descendants were capable of reaching these heights on their own.  Their achievements did not depend on his participation in the rituals assigned to the kohen gadol, or on any other spiritual acts.  Regardless of what Korach did or did not do, his descendants were independently able to work to reach prophetic stature.  In fact, one of the ironies of this story is that in his effort to give his progeny a spiritual “boost” by fighting for the rights of the priesthood, Korach committed a grave offense and was severely punished – and yet his descendants nevertheless achieved greatness.

            Symbolically, Korach’s mistake should perhaps remind us of the limits of parental influence, that ultimately, children must make their own decisions that determine the type of people they become.  Parents occasionally make a similar mistake to Korach’s, wrongly assuming that their children’s future depends solely upon the parents’ influence – an assumption which could lead them to exert excessive and overbearing control over their children.  It goes without saying that parents indeed exert a great deal of influence over their children and must work hard in trying to steer their children in the proper direction.  At the same time, however, parents must recognize that their children ultimately chart their own course and make their own decisions.  The parents’ role in determining the child’s direction in life is significant, but limited.  The story of Korach warns us not to resort to drastic measures in our efforts to influence our children, and to understand that even the children of a wicked man like Korach are capable of becoming prophets.

Sunday

            Commenting to the opening verse of Parashat Korach, Rashi cites the description in the Midrash Tanchuma of how Korach and his followers presented their claims to Moshe.  They donned garments dyed entirely with tekhelet dye and asked Moshe whether such garments require tzitzit (which include a string of tekhelet).  Moshe answered that such garments indeed require tzitzit, whereupon Korach ridiculed his ruling, noting that if a single tekhelet string suffices for an ordinary garment, surely a garment dyed entirely with tekhelet does not need tzitzit.  Korach then proceeded to raise a similar question, asking if a house filled with Torah scrolls requires a mezuza, and laughing at the notion that a single piece of parchment would be needed for such a room.

            Korach’s intent in presenting this demonstration seems quite clear.  Korach argued that “the entire congregation – they are all sacred, and the Lord is in their midst” (16:3), and thus there is no need for especially assigned positions of religious leadership.  This argument was supported – in Korach’s mind – by the analogies of the tekhelet garment and the house filled with sifrei Torah.  These objects are entirely “holy” and thus do not need anything to provide sanctity – just as Benei Yisrael are all “holy” and thus do not require leadership.

            We might, however, ask, why did Korach choose specifically these two mitzvot – tzitzit and mezuza – as his examples?  What significance might there be in his referencing these particular mitzvot?

            The mitzvot of tzitzit and mezuza are both intended as reminders of our religious obligations.  The Torah explicitly notes this function of tzitzit: “you shall see it and remember all of the Lord’s commands, and perform them, and you will not go astray after your heart and eyes…” (15:39).  And regarding the mezuza, the Rambam writes (Hilkhot Mezuza 7:13), “…whenever one enters or leaves he encounters the oneness of Hashem, the Name of the Almighty, and will recall the love for Him and will awaken from his slumber and preoccupation with the vanities of the time.”  The mezuza, similar to the tzitzit, serves to remind a person each time he enters or leaves his home of his responsibilities to the Almighty.

            For this reason, perhaps, as explained by Rav Shemuel Yaakov Rubenstein, in his She’eirit Menachem, Korach chose to ridicule particularly these two mitzvot.  As all Benei Yisrael are “holy” and have God in their midst, he argued, they do not need reminders.  Once the nation has risen to such a lofty stature, Korach believed, they are naturally drawn to mitzva observance and do not need to be reminded about their responsibilities to God.  By the same token, they do not need leaders to guide them and motivate them.

            If so, then one of the lessons of this episode is that even “holy” people are prone to fail, and must therefore remain vigilant.  At no point can we assume that we run on “autopilot,” naturally and instinctively drawn to proper behavior without the need to work, struggle and remind ourselves of our responsibilities.  The reminders of tzitzit and tefillin are required of all members of the nation, including the spiritual elite, because every human being has the potential for failure, just as every human being has the potential for greatness.  Even if “kol ha-eida kulam kedoshim,” and we all become “holy,” we still require hard work and ongoing inspiration and guidance to ensure that we maintain our level of religious devotion.

Monday

            Rashi, in his comments to the opening verse of Parashat Korach, cites the Midrash Tanchuma as explaining that Korach launched his revolt against Moshe’s authority because he was jealous of the appointment of his cousin, Elitzafan.  Korach was the son of Yitzhar, the second son of Kehat, whereas Elitzafan’s father, Uziel, was the youngest son of Yitzhar.  Yet, Elitzfan was named head of the family of Kehat, and this aroused Korach’s resentment, driving him to oppose Moshe’s leadership.  Later (16:7), Rashi cites a different explanation from the Tanchuma for Korach’s ill-advised decision to rebel against Moshe.  Korach prophetically foresaw that his descendants would include Shemuel and other prophets, and he thus concluded that he was entitled to a position of distinction.

            It is likely that these two approaches are to be understood in conjunction with one another, and not as two opposing theories.  Korach claimed to have “idealistic” reasons for opposing Moshe, noting that his future greatness warranted his immediate ascension to leadership.  But in truth, he was driven by sheer jealousy.  As Rashi writes, “Eino hita’ato” – “His eye [vision] misled him.”  His “eye” misled him because it was jaundiced; he felt resentful of Moshe and was thus predisposed to act against him.  The claim he advanced was his fig leaf with which he sought to conceal his true intentions.

            One of the messages of the story of Korach, then, is the need to carefully and honesty scrutinize our motivations when undertaking drastic or unusual measures for allegedly idealistic reasons. Very often, our “eye” misleads us.  We fail to address the matter objectively because of a predisposition shaped by unholy motives and concerns.  Certainly, there are exceptional circumstances that demand exceptional measures.  However, we must ascertain that such measures are taken purely and sincerely, and not for the sake self-aggrandizement or other ulterior motives.

(Based on an article by Rav Binyamin Yudin)

Tuesday

            Moshe responds to the challenge mounted by Korach by instructing him and his followers to bring incense the following morning, along with Aharon, and God would then determine whom He has chosen to serve as kohen gadol by accepting the chosen individual’s offering.

            Rashi, citing the Midrash Tanchuma, offers two reasons for why Moshe decided to delay the incense offering until the next morning.  The first reason is that when Korach and his followers came to Moshe it was an “eit shikhrut” – “time of intoxication.”  Apparently, the people had just drunk wine, and it was thus inappropriate to bring an offering to God at that time.  Secondly, Rashi writes, Moshe had the offering brought specifically in the morning to allude to the fact that God separated between different time periods – that is, between night and day.  Just as divisions exist in the realm of time, Moshe was telling Korach, divisions also exist among people, and God assigned the role of the kehuna exclusively to Aharon and his descendants.

            It is likely that these two explanations are closely connected to one another.  The Gemara famously comments in Masekhet Megilla (7b) that one must become inebriated on Purim “until he cannot distinguish between ‘cursed is Haman’ and ‘blessed is Mordekhai’.”  The effect of intoxication is undermining the ability to distinguish.  Everything appears the same, and good and evil are indistinguishable.  Indeed, the Gemara in Masekhet Yoma (75a) says about a drunkard, “The entire world appears to him as a plateau.”  In a state of inebriation, everything is equal, and nothing is higher or lower than anything.  And the Gemara famously remarks in Masekhet Berakhot (33), “Im ein da’at, havdala minayin” – “If there is no wisdom, then there can be distinction.”  The ability to differentiate requires a certain level of depth of thought, and thus in a state of intoxication, one is unable to distinguish.  This concept might also underlie the view that Nadav and Avihu were deserving of death because they entered the Mishkan after having drunk wine.  Nadav and Avihu’s mistake was the failure to respect the boundaries set in the Mishkan, the boundaries between where they permitted to go and where they were forbidden to go, and between when incense is warranted and when it is not.  And thus their sin is associated with intoxication, which undermines the ability to recognize distinctions.

            Korach was correct when he declared, “For the entire congregation – they are all holy” (16:3), but he was wrong to think that this negated the need for leadership and distinct roles for different groups.  As Rashi noted, this argument was posed at an “eit shikhrut,” as a result of the inability to distinguish and recognize between different levels and statuses, that God set boundaries and distinctions among Am Yisrael just as He set distinctions in the astronomical realm. 

            The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (113a) comments that one who “leaves over [some wine] from kiddush for havdala” is rewarded with a share in the next world.  The Rashbam explains this as referring to somebody who has a limited supply of wine, and ensures to save some after kiddush on Shabbat so he can later recite havdala.  On a deeper level, however, this may also refer to the need to balance our perspective between “kiddush” and “havdala” – between recognizing and respecting the inherent sanctity within every individual, and recognizing the distinction between different levels.  Korach perhaps excelled in kiddush, in appreciating the greatness of each and every member of Am Yisrael, but this appreciation was not balanced by “havdala,” the ability to distinguish and recognize the differences between different groups of people.

(Based on Rav David Moskowitz’s Gelilei Zahav)

Wednesday

            The latter portion of Parashat Korach enumerates the matenot kehuna – the “gifts” that Benei Yisrael are required to give to the kohanim – as well as the gifts which are to be given to the Leviyim.

            A careful reading of the text suggests a conceptual difference between these two sets of “gifts.”  In describing the obligations to the Leviyim – namely, the annual tithe of produce – the Torah twice emphasizes that this tithe is given as “wages” for the Leviyim’s service in the Mishkan.  The Torah (18:21, 31) writes the explicitly that Benei Yisrael give this tithe in exchange for the Leviyim’s service.  In regard to the obligations to the kohanim, by contrast, no mention is made of a “salary” paid in exchange for the kohanim’s service.  Instead, God proclaims, “ani chelkekha ve-nachalatekha” – that God gives these gifts to the kohanim by commanding Benei Yisrael to give them.  The gifts to the kohanim are given by the Almighty – through the agency of Benei Yisrael – as opposed to the tithe to the Leviyim, which Benei Yisrael give as the Leviyim’s “salary.”

            This point is made by the Or Ha-chayim (18:24), who noted that this is why the Leviyim are required to give a portion to the kohanim, but kohanim do not near any such obligation to the Leviyim.  As the Torah instructs in the final verses of Parashat Korach, Leviyim must give to a kohen one-tenth of the tithes they receive, while kohanim are not required to give to the Leviyim any portion of the gifts they receive.  The Or Ha-chayim explains that God commands Benei Yisrael to give His portion to the kohanim; whereas the Leviyim do not receive a portion from God; they simply receive a “salary” from Benei Yisrael.  Therefore, the Leviyim must forward God’s portion to the kohen from what they receive, but the kohanim do not have to reciprocate.

 

            This distinction calls into question a comment of the Ketzot Ha-choshen (243:4) regarding the halakha that one may satisfy his obligation of pidyon ha-ben by giving the money to a kohen who is a minor.  Although a minor is halakhically incapable of making a formal legal acquisition, the Ketzot cites Tosefot (Sanhedrin 68b) as commenting that a minor who works for somebody legally acquires rights to his wages.  He does not need to make a formal act of acquisition to receive his payment, because he already earned rights to the wages through the work he performed.  The Ketzot applies this theory to the mandatory gifts to the kohanim.  Since the gifts are required as payment for the service provided by the kohanim, they may be given even to minors.

            This theory, of course, presupposes that even the kohanim’s gifts are received as “wages” for their service.  While the verses seem to suggest that this is true only of the Leviyim’s tithe, the Ketzot apparently felt that all the gifts – to the kohanim and to the Leviyim – should be viewed from this perspective.

(Based on a shiur by Rav Asher Weiss)

Thursday

            Yesterday, we noted the question as to whether the twenty-four matenot kehuna (“priestly gifts”) which Benei Yisrael are to give to the kohanim should be viewed as “payment” for the service performed by the kohanim in the Beit Ha-mikdash.  With regard to the mandatory tithes given to the Leviyim, the Torah says explicitly in Parashat Korach (18:21, 31) that these are granted to the Leviyim in exchange for the functions they perform in the Temple.  No mention is made of this kind of arrangement with respect to the gifts received by the kohanim, seemingly suggesting that the kohanim’s gifts are fundamentally different, and should not be viewed as “payment” for the kohanim’s service.

            In truth, however, several sources clearly indicate that even the kohanim’s gifts should be viewed as “payment.”  The Rama, in Darkei Moshe (O.C. 53:8), cites the Or Zarua’s ruling that it is proper for congregations to hire chazanim for pay, comparing the service they perform to the service of the kohanim in the Beit Ha-mikdash.  As prayer substitutes for the offering of sacrifices in the Mikdash, those who lead the services should be paid just as the kohanim receive “payment” for their service in the Temple.  The Maharit Tzahalon (1:104), however, disagreed, and claimed that chazanim should be given gifts, like the kohanim, but not payment.  He claims that the kohanim in the Mikdash were not “paid” by the people for their service, but rather were given “gifts” by the Almighty, by way of the mandatory matenot kehuna which Benei Yisrael give them.  This debate seems to hinge on this very question – whether or not to view the matenot kehuna as a “salary” given to the kohanim in exchange for their service.

            Another expression of this issue is the approach taken by several Rishonim (Ritva and Meiri, Kiddushin 6) to explain the halakha forbidding a kohen from assisting farmers with their harvest (“mesayei’a be-vei ha-geranot”), which increases the likelihood of their receiving the farmers’ teruma.  These Rishonim explain that a kohen receives his matenot kehuna as payment for his service in the Mikdash, and it therefore must not be given as compensation for his agricultural work.  This comment clearly presupposes that the kohanim receive their gifts as wages, just like the Leviyim who receive their tithes in exchange for their service.

            This also seems to have been the position taken by Rashi.  The Torah in Sefer Vayikra (21:22) establishes that although a ba’al mum – a kohen with a physical defect – may not perform the avoda (service) in the Mikdash, he nevertheless receives a share in the portions of sacrifices distributed among the kohanim.  In his commentary to Masekhet Kiddushin (53a), Rashi explains this halakha as based on the fact that a ba’al mum does perform several tasks in the sacrificial process, such as slaughtering, skinning and carving the animal.  The fact that Rashi found it necessary to offer this explanation perhaps reflects his perspective on the kohanim’s portion, viewing it as “payment” given to him in exchange for his service in the Mikdash.   

(Based on a shiur by Rav Asher Weiss)

Friday

            Parashat Korach tells the tragic story of Korach’s revolt against Moshe’s authority, which ended in his death and the death of his followers, some of which were killed when the ground opened and devoured them.  This image, of Korach’s followers being buried underground, brings to mind the Gemara’s famous comment in Masekhet Shabbat (88a) that at the time of Matan Torah, God lifted Mount Sinai and suspended it over Benei Yisrael, threatening that if they did not accept the Torah, “you will be buried there.”  It has been suggested that the death of Korach’s followers was, essentially, God carrying out this warning, burying underground those who refused to accept His commands.

            Wherein precisely lies the connection between God’s warning at Mount Sinai, and Korach’s uprising?

            The answer, perhaps, relates to the question raised by many as to why God needed to threaten Benei Yisrael to accept the Torah once they enthusiastically proclaimed “na’aseh ve-nishma” (“we will do and we will hear” – Shemot 24:7).  It appears from the Torah that Benei Yisrael made this declaration willingly and with excitement, not under duress.  Why, then, was it necessary for God to threaten them into submission? 

            Rav Yehuda Amital zt”l often cited the Maharal’s explanation that it was necessary for Benei Yisrael to accept the Torah not just willingly, but also under coercion.  As Rav Amital explained, “…the people’s observance of the Torah cannot be based simply on voluntarism and good will.  It needs to be based on coercion, on commitment, on worship of God; one must keep mitzvot because one is obligated to do so, and not simply because one desires it.”  The Gemara’s description of the mountain menacingly hovering over the people teaches us that “na’aseh ve-nishma” does not suffice.  We cannot be committed to the Torah only because we feel drawn to it, feel inspired, and find Torah observance emotionally fulfilling.  We need to also feel unconditionally bound to the Torah against our will, and recognize that our obligations remain in force even when our enthusiasm wanes and when they feel like a heavy burden on our shoulders.

            With this in mind, we can perhaps understand the connection between this image and the fate suffered by Korach’s followers.  Korach’s argument was that everybody should be given the opportunity to serve God as kohanim, by performing the rituals in the Mishkan.  He sought religious autonomy, the right for every person among Benei Yisrael – all of whom, as Korach proclaimed, were “sacred” and had God in their midst – to serve the Almighty on his or her terms.  Korach championed the ideal of “na’aseh ve-nishma,” but without the ideal of “kafa aleihem har ke-gigit” – of feeling unconditionally bound to the Torah’s dictates.  God’s threat was specifically intended to ensure that the Torah would be accepted both willingly and compulsorily.  And thus Korach and his followers, who advocated only willful, voluntary avodat Hashem, failed to satisfy the conditions for Matan Torah, and thus met the dreadful fate of which God had warned.