The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

The ketoret, or incense offered in the Mishkan, plays a prominent role in the narrative in Parashat Korach. At two critical points in the story told in this parasha, we find the offering of ketoret yielding dramatic and supernatural effects. First, in response to the challenge posed to his and his brother's authority by Korach and his following, Moshe orders the challengers to offer incense together with Aharon on the following day. The offering resulted in the sudden death of all two hundred and fifty men who opposed Moshe and Aharon. Later in the parasha, after Datan and Aviram, two other dissenters, are devoured by the ground together with their belongings, a plague breaks out among the nation as a punishment for their ongoing support for the rebellion and opposition to Moshe and Aharon. At Moshe's behest, Aharon quickly brings a special ketoret offering to atone for the nation, and indeed the plague comes to a sudden halt.

Perhaps what is most intriguing about the function served by the ketoret in this parasha is the two diametrically opposite effects it yields. It first wreaks death and destruction, whereas later it saves an entire nation. This paradox is powerfully expressed by the Mekhilta in Parashat Beshalach, cited by Rashi in this parasha (17:13), which relates that Benei Yisrael perceived the ketoret as a death potion, having killed Aharon's two sons (back in Sefer Vayikra) and now the two hundred and fifty members of the rebellion. Moshe therefore showed them the life-giving power of the ketoret by having it bring an abrupt end to the plague that ravaged the nation.

But how do we explain this peculiar phenomenon, of a ritual that on the one hand brings death yet at other times saves lives?

Rav Yehuda Shaviv suggests a beautiful explanation based on Chazal's famous analysis of the composition of the ketoret. As the Torah outlines towards the beginning of Parashat Ki-Tisa, the ketoret consisted of eleven ingredients, all of them fragrant herbs with the exception of the "chelbana" (galbanum), which emitted a particularly foul odor. When, however, the chelbana was mixed together with the other ten, it, too, acquired a fragrant aroma. Chazal explain that the ketoret thereby symbolizes the power of Jewish unity and cohesiveness. When the different segments of the population work together, find their common ground and overcome their differences, then even the wicked among the nation can become "fragrant." Chazal deduce from this concept that when Am Yisrael faces a national crisis, Heaven forbid, the public prayer services and fasts conducted in response must include even the sinners of the people.

The opposite functions served by the ketoret in this parasha, Rav Shaviv explains, represent the two opposite, potential results of the unity symbolized by the ketoret. Korach and his following challenged Moshe and Aharon in the name of one form of unity: "For the entire congregation – they are all holy, and God is in their midst; whey, then, do you elevate yourselves above the nation of the Lord?" (16:3). The dissenters here express the position we might describe as extreme universalism, the notion that we cannot ascribe any relative superiority or inferiority to one human being over the next. According to this theory, Moshe and Aharon have no more right to leadership and priesthood than does any commoner among Benei Yisrael. This type of "ketoret," this sort of blend between different elements, which completely ignores all differences and sees all people as exactly the same, brings about death and destruction. When evil can no longer be identified as evil, when greatness is equated with mediocrity, when the lines between right and wrong are washed away, the results are disastrous. Ketoret saves lives when different people work together without blurring the differences between them, when we can still distinguish between Moshe Rabbenu and the commoners under his charge. This type of "ketoret," the cooperation between people who still recognize their differences and unique identities, can indeed bring blessing and peace.

******

Upon being confronted by Korach and his followers, Moshe "hears and falls on his face" (16:4). Rabbenu Bechayei (among others) writes that Moshe's reaction serves as a Biblical allusion to the later institution of "nefilat apayim," the service to which we often refer as "tachanun." While reciting this prayer, we lower our faces onto our arms – similar to Moshe's having "fallen on his face" in response to Korach's challenge.

If, indeed, as Rabbenu Bechayei claims, Moshe's reaction here serves as a basis of sorts for the recitation of tachanun, then we may perhaps gain a deeper understanding of the nature of this prayer by inquiring as to the nature of Moshe's reaction. Once Rabbenu Bechayei has drawn this parallel between Moshe's falling on his face and our lowering of our faces for tachanun, then we might want to explore the meaning behind Moshe's response in order to better understand our practice of leaning for tachanun.

On the simplest level, as the Rashbam and Netziv explain, Moshe fell on his face in prayer to God, asking His assistance in dealing with the most recent crisis to confront his leadership. Naturally, then, Chazal concluded on this basis that lowering one's face is a form of prayer, an expression of a desperate appeal to God, and therefore instituted that we lower our faces when asking forgiveness in the tachanun prayer.

In other commentaries, however, we find different approaches as to the nature of Moshe's response. Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor explains that Moshe fell on his face out of sheer embarrassment, having been wrongly accused of sly, nepotistic maneuverings in establishing the nation's leadership. Midrashic sources likewise indicate that Moshe fell on his face because he was accused of adulterous relationships, to the point where all men suspected their wives of sleeping with Moshe. What emerges, then, is that falling on one's face is an expression of embarrassment and humiliation. For this reason, perhaps, Chazal instituted that we fall on our faces when appealing to God for forgiveness through the recitation of tachanun. They wanted us to experience – or attempt to experience – the same shame and humiliation as one feels when others cast embarrassing allegations about his conduct, when his reputation is tarnished and his personal life is exposed in distorted form to the public's ear. When approaching the Almighty to beg forgiveness, we must feel genuinely ashamed at our unacceptable conduct and misdeeds.

Rashi, citing the Midrash Tanchuma, explains this verse differently: "He fell on his face because of the dispute; this was already the fourth crime [committed against God]." In the previous three instances when God became incensed at Benei Yisrael – the golden calf, the mitonenim, and the scouts – Moshe felt capable of intervening on their behalf and pleading their case before God. Here, the fourth time the nation angered God, Moshe felt helpless, he no longer felt he had a legitimate argument with which to save the nation from God's decree. Out of a deep sense of despair and hopelessness, he falls on his face.

This, too, may reflect a central theme of tachanun – the hopelessness of our efforts. When bringing our case before the Almighty, we must feel a sense of despair, knowing that we are hardly deserving of divine compassion. Why should we earn atonement, if we should have known better and avoided making the mistakes we committed? Just as Moshe Rabbenu felt unable to soothe God's anger when confronted by Korach's rebellion, so must we feel a sense of hopelessness at the prospect of earning God's favor.

We introduce the tachanun prayer with the verse "Vayomer David el Gad" from Sefer Shemuel II (24:14). Understanding the context of this verse may help us appreciate how it introduces thetachanun prayer, particularly in light of what we have seen regarding the nature of this prayer. King David sinned against God by conducting a census of Benei Yisrael (we will not discuss in this context the nature of this sin), and God poses to David, through the prophet Gad, three options for his punishment. David's kingdom would have to face either seven years of famine, three months under the pursuit of his foes, or three days of divine plague. David tells the prophet, "I am in great distress. Let us fall into the hands of the Lord, for His compassion is great; and let me not fall into the hands of men." David decides upon the punishment that leaves him most directly under God's providence, which most allows for the possibility of the decree's revocation. Indeed, though the devastating plague killed seventy thousand people among Benei Yisrael, God had compassion on the nation and stopped the plague before it wrought even more destruction.

In this verse, then, we find the opposite side of the coin, so-to-speak, the concept that allows for the recitation of tachanun despite the hopelessness of our cause. Although we, like Moshe, have little faith in our merit, we nevertheless, like David, place our trust in divine compassion. Unworthy as we are of forgiveness and atonement, we turn to the Almighty nonetheless, knowing that "His compassion is great," and He hears our prayers even when we are undeserving.

******

Several Midrashim on Parashat Korach make the point that Korach, the anti-protagonist of the parasha, was not nearly as foolish as one may have thought based on a superficial reading of the parasha. Korach presumably knew that he lacked the credentials to serve as high priest; he was fully aware that Moshe appointed Aharon based on God's order. Why, then, did he agree to the incense-test, by which the chosen kohen gadol's offering would be accepted whereas the challengers would be consumed by fire? Seemingly, this reflected a substantial degree of foolishness on Korach's part. And yet, so highly did Chazal regard Korach's intelligence that they asked, "Korach, who was such an intelligent person, what brought him to this nonsense?" (Tanchuma, cited by Rashi, 16:7). A different version of this Midrash, in Midrash Rabba (18:2), phrases the question somewhat differently: "Korach, who was a great man, among those who carried the ark, what brought him… "

Leaving aside the Midrash's response (which will, iy"H, be the subject of tomorrow's devar Torah), let us focus our attention on this second version of the Midrash's question. Of what significance is it that Korach, as a member of the Levite family of Kehat, was among those who carried the ark? Why does this seemingly irrelevant detail strengthen the Midrash's question as to how Korach could act so foolishly?

Rav Aharon Lewin, in his "Ha-derash Ve-ha'iyun," answers based on the miraculous manner in which the ark was transported. The Gemara (Sota 35) comments that the aron "carried its carriers." Meaning, the Levites transporting the aron really were not the ones who carried it; it rather carried itself, and moreover, it carried them along with it. Rav Lewin writes that many commentators have explained this phenomenon as symbolic of the unique, eternal quality of the Torah, which sets it fundamentally apart from all other systems of law, ritual and belief. When it comes to all other such systems, it is the human being who carries the law. He invents the law, amends it as he sees fit, tailors it in accordance with the particular needs and zeitgeist of the time, and, ultimately, revokes it when it becomes no longer relevant. Torah, however, works differently; it carries the human being. Rather than changing to accommodate us, the Torah forces us to change to accommodate it. The Torah has risen above the vicissitudes of ideological and cultural change over the centuries and remains as central to our lives today as it did in ancient times. The divine origin of the Torah renders it eternally binding, pertinent, and meaningful.

This, Rav Lewin explains, is precisely what troubled the Midrash about Korach. Having personally experienced the great miracle of the ark, having been directly shown the Torah's eternal relevance, how could he have possibly accused Moshe of concocting these laws, how could he declare the Torah's rules manmade and hence vulnerable to rational arguments and ideological opposition? Once Korach denies Moshe's authority as the authentic transmitter of God's Torah, then the Torah he taught should become null and void the moment societal changes render it irrelevant. But Korach knew that "the ark carried its carriers," that the Torah retains its importance regardless of the changes that occur. Chazal therefore ask, how is it possible that Korach would act so foolishly?

Tomorrow we will iy"H discuss the Midrash's response.

******

Yesterday we discussed the question posed by the Midrash as to how an otherwise intelligent, well-respected man such as Korach could have acted so foolishly and initiated a hopeless campaign to challenge the leadership of Moshe and Aharon. Today we will discuss the Midrash's response, as cited by Rashi in his commentary to Parashat Korach (16:7):

"He saw a great dynasty emerging from him – Shemuel, who was equal to Moshe and Aharon. He said: On his account I will be spared… Is it possible that all this greatness will ultimately emerge from me, and I shall remain silent… But he did not see properly, for his sons performed teshuva."

Korach prophetically saw the prophet Shemuel and his descendants emerge from his progeny, and thus concluded that he deserves a more prominent stature. So convinced he was by this argument that he literally bet his life on it, agreeing to bring the ketoret along with his fellow contestants to the high priesthood, knowing that only the true kohen gadol would survive.

The question arises, how does this thought process ascribed to Korach answer the Midrash's original question? Does Korach's placement of trust in this argument not reflect total foolishness? Is this the logic of a wise man, to think that because a great leader will be born from him fifteen generations later (!!) he must be more qualified for the role of kohen gadol than Aharon?

One might answer that Chazal here seek to convey precisely this message, that even the wisest of men act irrational and foolish when overcome by greed and envy. Perhaps the Midrash intends to emphasize specifically the silliness of Korach's argument, which shows us just how illogical someone with Korach's intelligence can act in pursuit of power and prestige.

We may, however, consider a different explanation, by carefully comparing the current situation with that faced by Korach's illustrious descendant, Shemuel, whose merit led Korach to presume the right to power. Shemuel enters onto the stage of Biblical history following the tempestuous period of the shoftim (judges), a historical period best described by the final verse of the book which tells its story, Sefer Shoftim: "In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did as he pleased." This period was characterized by a state of near-anarchy, an absolute lack of leadership and central authority. The opening chapters of Sefer Shemuel tell of the rapid deterioration of the only remaining authoritative body in the nation – the priesthood, the humiliating corruption of the younger kohanim and the unwillingness or inability of the kohen gadol, Eli, to rectify the situation. Finally, the marauding Pelishtim ransack and destroy the Mishkan, stealing the ark and killing Eli's sons; he, too, dies upon hearing the news.

It is shortly thereafter that Shemuel becomes a powerful and influential leader, the first in decades, who restores law, order and stability – as well as the aron – to Benei Yisrael. What more, it is he who establishes (albeit with considerable hesitation) the nation's monarchy, anointing the first two kings of Israel (Shaul and David). Shemuel thus represents the creation of new leadership, the stabilization of an unstable nation and the transformation of sheer chaos peace and tranquillity.

Korach, as portrayed by the Midrash, perhaps saw himself as the "Shemuel" of his generation. Prophetically foreseeing his visionary descendant, Korach may have felt that he must serve that same function in the current generation. The last two parshiyot, Beha'alotekha and Shelach, describe the gradual emergence of quasi-chaos among Benei Yisrael. From the law and order reflected by the details of Benei Yisrael's travel formation and protocol in the first ten chapters of Sefer Bamidbar, the nation steadily declines henceforth into an abyss of disarray. One crisis unfolds after another, culminating with the debacle of the scouts, which resulted in God's decree that the current generation would all perish in the wilderness. We can hardly imagine the shock and disappointment felt by the nation. Using the model of his future descendant, Korach decides that the time has come for him to step up and bring a sense of order to the chaos, to bring the people back together and restore national stability.

Of course, Korach made a terrible mistake; the two situations are hardly comparable. Shemuel became leader in a time when the nation thirsted for leadership; Korach attempted to become leader at a time when the nation was led by the most competent leaders imaginable. Benei Yisrael could never have had as stable a leadership as it did under Moshe, who was appointed directly by God, whom they witnessed serve as God's mediator at Mount Sinai, and who received his instructions – including the command to name his brother kohen gadol - directly from heaven. Shemuel brought leadership to a flock without a shepherd; Korach sought to overthrow the most devoted and qualified shepherd in the flock's history.

******

Facing the challenge posed to his authority by Korach and his following, Moshe responds by ordering the rebels to offer an incense offering together with Aharon the next morning. The one whose offering earns God's acceptance would be determined the true kohen gadol. If Aharon "wins," then Moshe's leadership would be reconfirmed and his appointment of his brother as high priest justified. Moshe later turns to the Almighty and pleads, "Pay no regard to their oblation. I have not taken the donkey of any one of hem, nor have I wronged any one of them" (16:15). On the simplest level, Moshe here vindicates himself before the Almighty, arguing that he has done nothing to deserve the insurrection against him; he has served his people faithfully and honestly. As Rashi explains, he did not even ask the people for compensation for his travel expenses incurred over the course of leadership. Moshe here declares his clean record in response to the grave accusations suddenly raised against him.

The Chatam Sofer, however, suggests a novel, homiletic interpretation of this verse. He associates the "donkey" Moshe never seized from anyone with the hundreds of donkeys which Chazal describe accompanying each member of Benei Yisrael as he left Egypt, carrying a full load of Egyptian wealth. The Midrashim tell that as Benei Yisrael were driven from Egypt by their former taskmasters, they found time to amass enormous amounts of wealth from the spoils of Egypt. Chazal contrast Benei Yisrael's preoccupation with accumulating treasures with Moshe's concerns on the day of the Exodus, as recorded in the beginning of Parashat Beshalach: "Moshe took with him the bones of Yosef… " (Shemot 13:19). In pleading his case before the Almighty here in Parashat Korach, Moshe refers to the fact that he never asked for compensation for the wealth of Egypt he never had the opportunity to take because of his involvement in the mitzva of taking Yosef's remains. Although this was the responsibility of the entire nation, and Moshe could very legitimately have claimed that he worked on their behalf in this endeavor, for which he thus deserves compensation, Moshe never made such a claim.

Upon further reflection, the Chatam Sofer's insightful look at this verse becomes particularly meaningful in the context in which it appears. If, indeed, Moshe makes reference here to the wealth he forfeited while concerning himself with the transportation of Yosef's remains, then he perhaps seeks to underscore the contrast between him and his challenger, Korach. Many writers have noted the significance of the first verb the Torah attributes to Korach: "Va-yikach Korach" – "And Korach took." Korach's leadership (or the leadership to which he aspired) was about taking, rather than giving. He did not want to serve the community, but rather wanted to take from the community – money, honor, recognition, etc. An embattled Moshe turns to the Almighty and pleads his own defense, pointing to perhaps the greatest example of his selflessness and disinterest in any form of material recompense for his efforts. Even while the entire nation gathered the wealth of Egypt, when he, like any other Israelite, had the opportunity and legal right to do the same, he instead involved himself in the classic form of "chesed shel emet," genuine kindness, kindness performed for someone who can never return the favor. Moshe here emphasizes the fundamental difference between his leadership and that coveted by his rival, the difference between honest, genuine service, and a lustful, greedy desire for wealth and prominence.

******

Among the prominent figures in the rebellion against Moshe's authority that unfolds in Parashat Korach are the eternally infamous Datan and Aviram. After hearing Datan and Aviram's defiant rejection of his summons, Moshe personally goes to their tent, as God instructs him to urge the people to withdraw from the area (16:23-25). Arriving at the rebellion headquarters, Moshe declares:

"By this you shall know that it was the Lord who sent me to do all these things, that they are not of my own devising: if these men die as all men do, if their lot be the common fate of all mankind, it was not the Lord who sent me. But if the Lord brings about something unheard-of, so that the ground opens its mouth and swallows them up with all that belongs to them, and they go down alive into Sheol, you shall know that these men have spurned the Lord." (16:28-30)

Moshe thus proves the authenticity of his mission, that he has led the people precisely as God had instructed, based on the occurrence of "something unheard-of," the miraculous "earthquake" that devoured Datan, Aviram, their families and belongings.

The question arises as to why such a drastic cataclysm was necessary for Moshe to prove himself. If Datan and Aviram would have simply died as soon as Moshe arrived, or if they would have suddenly taken incurably ill and died in their beds that night, Moshe would have, presumably, made his point. Throughout Chumash, we find God punishing sins through natural causes, such as through a "mageifa," as we read later in this parasha, which seems to refer to either instant death or disease. In Parashat Beha'alotekha, God punishes Benei Yisrael with fire, and in Parashat Chukat, He strikes them with snakes. In all these instances, the cause of these calamities never appears to be questioned. Why, then, did Moshe require a supernatural catastrophe to prove his case against Datan and Aviram?

The Rebbe of Belz is cited as answering that in truth, a natural death would not have proven Moshe's case. For Datan and Aviram committed two grave sins against Moshe: their opposition to his authority, and the disrespectful means by which they conducted their opposition. Even if they were correct – which they obviously were not – in their claim that Moshe had no right to lead them, the brazenness of their approach, the lack of dignity with which they addressed Moshe (see 16:12-14), was unacceptable. If they had died a natural death, the Belzer Rebbe explained, people may have likely concluded that they were punished as a result of their disrespect; this would not have undermined their cause to depose Moshe. Supporters of the rebellion may have felt that Datan and Aviram failed only because of the manner in which they pursued their campaign, but the campaign itself was justifieand must continue.

Rav Yissachar Frand extracted a critical and very relevant lesson from this insight: even when we are right, we must be careful how we advance our cause. This applies on virtually every level of human interaction, from domestic to communal to political. Being correct does not permit one to speak disrespectfully, antagonize, or demonize. The means by which we seek to advance our correct agenda is as important as having the correct agenda in the first place.

******

After Korach's failed revolt against Moshe's authority and Aharon's right to the high priesthood, God orders Moshe to conduct a "staff test," by which he gathered the staffs of the twelve tribal leaders and placed them inside the Mishkan. Moshe then declared that the staff that would blossom and flower would indicate that that staff's tribe was chosen to serve God in the Mishkan, and that its leader is to serve as kohen gadol. Predictably, it was Aharon's staff, representing the tribe of Levi, that blossomed, thus settling once and for all the issue as to whether or not Aharon indeed earned the right to serve as kohen gadol.

Several questions arise from this narrative. Firstly, the challenge to the high priesthood posed by Korach and his two hundred and fifty peers had already been soundly refuted by the divine fire that consumed the challengers after they offered incense in front of the Mishkan. As an eternal memorial to this tragic event, God ordered Elazar the kohen to collect the fire pans and turn them into plating for the altar (see 17:1-5). This plating would serve as a reminder "that no outsider – one not of Aharon's offspring – should presume to offer incense before the Lord and suffer the fate of Korach and his band." Why, then, was additional proof necessary? Additionally, even if we can identify a compelling need for this "staff test," wherein lies the significance of this particular method – the blossoming of a staff? What does this supernatural image symbolize?

These questions led many "darshanim" to take a deeper look into this event and attempt to uncover the symbolic meaning latent within the blossoming of Aharon's staff.

Rav Moshe Rosen, in his "Ohel Moshe" (New York, 1963), suggests that the flowering of Aharon's staff was intended to address Benei Yisrael's concern for the future, a concern that arose in the wake of Korach's revolt. If such a rebellion could erupt in this generation, a generation that witnessed miracles on a daily basis, that itself saw Moshe ascend Mount Sinai and receive the Torah – if such people can launch an assault against Moshe's authority, then what will happen many generations henceforth? How can we prevent – or at least respond to – challenges to the Torah in times of exile and persecution, where its truth is far less obvious and readily provable?

The Almighty responds to these concerns by ordering Moshe to take a dry piece of wood and turn it into a flowery branch. This image is meant to symbolize the cultivation and growth of faith from a spiritual wasteland, the blossoming of religious observance in an environment hostile to any form of Torah life. The flowering of Aharon's staff not only indicated his selection as kohen gadol, but foretold the survival of Jewish faith even when its challengers have by far the upper hand.

Rav Rosen adds that within this symbolic framework, it is significant that the blossoming takes place specifically in the Mishkan. During such times when the future of Torah seems bleak, when we face an absence of even a drop of spiritual water to enable the growth of learning and observance, this growth can take place – within the walls of the "Mishkan," our synagogues and Jewish educational systems. These are the institutions that provide the soil, sunlight and water for Torah to develop and flourish, even under circumstances which otherwise give no hope for the survival of Jewish faith.

This shiur is provided courtesy of the Virtual Beit Midrash, the premier source of online courses on Torah and Judaism - 14 different courses on all levels, for all backgrounds.

Make Jewish learning part of your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
Virtual Beit Midrash

Yeshivat Har Etzion
Alon Shvut, Israel, 90433
office@etzion.org.il