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Parashat Korach tells of the revolt mounted by Korach and a group of supporters against the authority of Moshe and Aharon. Moshe invited his adversary's group of followers to offer incense together with Aharon in front of the Mishkan, where God would then demonstrate whom he has chosen to function as kohen gadol. They offer the incense the next morning, and a heavenly fire consumes the two hundred and fifty supporters of Korach (16:35). God then instructs Moshe to have the fire pans used by the rebels turned into a covering for the altar, serving as a warning to those who would consider launching a Korach-style campaign: "so that no outsider… should presume to offer incense… and he shall not be like Korach and his following, as God commanded him through the hand of Moshe" (17:5).

The Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin (110a) interprets this verse as warning not only against rebelling against the political or priestly establishment, but also against being machazik be-machloket, literally, "grabbing onto controversy." We are admonished to refrain from creating friction and divisiveness, causing strife and contention, as Korach did. The Gemara then proceeds to cite Rav Ashi's comment regarding the verse's reference to the "hand of Moshe." Rav Ashi asserts that the Torah here subtly alludes to an incident that occurred several years earlier, when God appeared to Moshe at the burning bush and assigned him the task of taking Benei Yisrael from Egypt. Moshe argued that Benei Yisrael would never believe that God has spoken to him, and would refuse to accept him as their spokesman and leader. God therefore equipped Moshe with a number of supernatural acts he would perform to prove his case. One such miracle was that his hand would suddenly be stricken with tzara'at (a leprous skin infection) when he placed it inside his garment (Shemot 4:6). Accordingly, Rav Ashi comments, the reference to "Moshe's hand" in the context of the warning against following Korach's example, indicates that one who is machazik be-machloket deserves to be stricken with tzara'at, like Moshe's hand.

Wherein lies the connection between creating social strife and the tzara'at that afflicted Moshe's hand?

Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggests the following explanation. Chazal comment that Moshe's tzara'at served not only as a means for convincing the people, but also as a punishment for Moshe's insulting remarks about Benei Yisrael. He inappropriately determined that they would reject him, a remark that constituted a form of lashon ha-ra, negative speech, for which tzara'at serves as punishment. If so, Rav Ginsburg contends, we can perhaps understand the association drawn by Rav Ashi between Korach-style controversy and Moshe's tzara'at. Korach initiated his campaign of hostility with the claim that he defended Benei Yisrael's honor and interests: "You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why, then, do you raise yourselves above the Lord's congregation?" (16:3). Rav Ashi here condemns unnecessary strife and contention even when triggered out of alleged concern for national interests. He therefore compares disputes of this sort to Moshe's denigrating remark about Benei Yisrael. Causing friction between Jews, even with the stated objective of defending Israel's honor, is deemed equivalent to speaking degradingly about them. Noble intentions and genuine concern do not necessarily justify generating tension and animosity. Activity of this sort is ultimately regarded with the same severity as campaigns explicitly intended to malign and insult the Jewish people. Thus, as Rav Ashi comments, one who engages in Korachesque conduct deserves the same punishment dealt to Moshe for uttering an insulting remark about Benei Yisrael.

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The haftara for Parashat Korach is taken from Sefer Shemuel I (chapter 12), and contains Shemuel's address to Benei Yisrael after the second – and conclusive – coronation of Shaul as king. Shemuel reiterates his disapproval of the nation's request for a king, and his presentation seems to shed some light on the nature of this request: "You saw that Nachash king of the Ammonites was advancing against you, and you said to me, 'No, we must have a king reigning over us' – even though the Lord your God is your king" (Shemuel I 12:12). Shemuel here implies that the nation's request of a king was prompted by the threat posed by the nation of Amon. The question arises, Benei Yisrael already found themselves threatened by the Pelishtim, the nation living along the Mediterranean coastline that terrorized Israel from the end of the period of the shoftim through the early part of King David's reign. If Shemuel's prophetic leadership sufficed to keep the Philistine threat at bay (see Shemuel I 7:13-14), why did they find it insufficient to ward off the Amonite threat?

We might suggest that the answer lies in the geographical difference between these two military threats. The Pelishtim threatened the Israelite heartland. They were situated in Eretz Yisrael itself, and would launch their offensives primarily against the territory of Yehuda, in the center of the country. (In fact, King David's decisive battle against the Pelishtim, as recorded in Sefer Shemuel II, chapter 5, occurred at Emek Refaim, near Jerusalem.) The Amonites, by contrast, resided along Israel's eastern border and threatened mainly the peripheral, sparsely populated Trans-Jordanian region. Indeed, shortly after King Shaul ascends the throne, the Amonite king threatens the people of Yavesh Gilad, a region to the east of the Jordan, and agrees to peace only on condition that they all remove an eye (Shemuel I, chapter 11). Benei Yisrael perhaps feared that when confronting a threat of this nature, that endangers peripheral communities, a strong, centralized government is necessary. A loose federation of tribes sufficed to ward off the Pelishtim, who threatened mainly the strongest and most influential tribe, Yehuda. But the people of Yavesh Gilad could be saved only with a centralized authority, which would bear equal responsibility for all the nation's citizens. It was therefore when the people foresaw the looming threat of Amon that they approached Shemuel and demanded a king.

The reason behind Shemuel's adamant opposition to the establishment of a kingship represents one of the most fundamental questions that must be addressed when studying Sefer Shemuel. The question becomes somewhat more pressing in light of what we have just discussed. Seemingly, the people advance a compelling argument. How could they ensure the security of outlying areas without a strong, centralized government?

One answer perhaps emerges from Rashi's approach to Shemuel's opposition, which he expresses in his commentary to Masekhet Sanhedrin (20b). According to Rashi (in explaining the Gemara), while the nation's elders asked for a king for purposes of law enforcement and judicial stability, which was an acceptable and even admirable request, the masses sought a king for military purposes, to fight their wars. Apparently, in Rashi's view, God did not want Benei Yisrael to feel dependent on a king, rather than on the Almighty, for military success. Indeed, the section of the Torah authorizing – and perhaps even requiring – the establishment of a monarchy begins, "If, after you have entered the land… and taken possession of it and settled in it, you decide, 'I will set a king over me… ' you shall indeed set a king over yourself" (Devarim 17:14-15). The Torah clearly speaks of establishing a kingdom only after Benei Yisrael's successful conquest and settlement of Eretz Yisrael. God wanted it to be perfectly clear that it was He, and not any human king, who led the nation to victory and won them the land. Only after the completion of this process were Benei Yisrael free, and perhaps obligated, to establish the monarchy.

Understandably, then, Shemuel did not see the Amonite threat as a reason to establish a kingship. The process of conquest and securing borders was to be led by only the King of kings, and not by a human monarch. Therefore, rather than responding to Amon by appointing a human ruler, he admonished them to turn to God for assistance.

In the end, of course, God instructed Shemuel to acquiesce to the nation's demand, and he indeed appoints Shaul, who routs the Amonites in battle. The question of why the Almighty sanctioned the appointment of a king at this time lies beyond the scope of our discussion.

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Parashat Korach tells of the devastating fate that befell Korach and his supporters who launched a campaign to oppose Moshe's authority. Most of the rebels were devoured by fire, while other members were devoured by the ground (16:32). The Gemara in Masekhet Megila (14a) tells that Korach's sons were initially among the latter group, but they repented in time, and God reserved a place for them in Gehinnom (the underworld) where they stood and survived. In this vein the Gemara interprets the opening verse of Sefer Shemuel, which says that Shemuel's father, Elkana, lived in a place called Ramatayim, a name related to the Hebrew word for "height." The Gemara explains that Elkana descended "from people who stood at the height of the world," a reference to the heights of Gehinnom were Korach's sons, from whom Elkana descended, were given refuge.

On one level, the image of a place of refuge in Gehinnom symbolizes the possibility granted to sinners – on both the individual and communal levels – to save themselves even at the very last moment. Even as one plunges towards the lowest depths, he is given the opportunity to change directions and find refuge.

But additionally, Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Musar Ha-nevi'im (opening verse of Sefer Shemuel), suggests a more specific meaning of this image. Recall that the Gemara associates Korach's sons' dramatic fate with the opening verse of Sefer Shemuel. Rav Ginsburg contends that Chazal saw Korach's sons' rescue from the underworld as symbolic of the chapter in Jewish history brought about by their illustrious descendant, Shemuel, as documented in the sefer that bears his name. The final chapters of Sefer Shoftim and opening chapters of Sefer Shemuel present a grim picture of the spiritual state of affairs in the Land of Israel in the years prior to Shemuel's leadership. Sefer Shoftim closes with a depiction of sheer lawlessness, which allowed for unspeakable horrors such as idol worship, mass rape, and even civil war. Sefer Shemuel begins with the erosion of the kehuna (priesthood) and the Mishkan generally. The sons of the kohen gadol were corrupt, immoral and self-serving, and it appears that Elkana alone would pay annual visits to the Mishkan. As the entire moral and religious fabric of the nation began to fade, as they began tumbling towards Gehinnom, a place of refuge emerged and enabled them to successful escape the fiery underworld. When Benei Yisrael found themselves in desperate need of spiritual leadership and guidance, the prophet Shemuel arose and began leading them away from idolatry and toward authentic avodat Hashem. Appropriately, Korach's sons, who found refuge in the underworld and were spared the fate of their father's following, begot a leader who would provide refuge for Benei Yisrael on the brink of Gehinnom, and rescue them before they reached the point of no return.

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Towards the end of Parashat Korach, the Torah delineates the various matenot kehuna, or "priestly gifts," which Benei Yisrael must give to the kohanim. The most common of these (at least nowadays) is that of pidyon ha-ben (18:15-16), requiring that a firstborn son be "redeemed" from a kohen for the "price" of five sela'im after completing his first month of life.

Among the interesting halakhic issues that arise concerning this mitzva is its relationship to the obligation of berit mila. The Ranakh (Rav Eliyahu Ben Chayim; Turkey, 16^th century) wrote a teshuva (79) addressing the situation of a firstborn child whose circumcision was delayed due to illness, and the day he became medically eligible for a berit happened to be the same day of his pidyon (the 31^st day since birth). Which mitzva should be performed first – the circumcision, or the pidyon ha-ben?

The Ranakh responded that intuitively, we would require performing the pidyon first. He draws an analogy to the more common situation of one who forgets to recite one of the three daily prayers, and must therefore recite an extra shemoneh esrei during the next prayer service. Halakha very clearly mandates that one recite the first shemoneh esrei with the intention of reciting that time frame's prayer. Thus, if one recites an extra shemoneh esrei at mincha to make up for a missed shacharit, he must recite the first shemoneh esrei with the intention of fulfilling his mincha obligation. The second shemoneh esrei is the one that serves to make amends, so-to-speak, for the forgotten shacharit. The underlying principle is that when two obligations present themselves simultaneously, precedence is given to the one whose primary time frame occurs at that point. Similarly, in the situation described above where a father must perform both berit mila and pidyon ha-ben, we should, seemingly, afford precedence to the pidyon ha-ben. Since this 31^st day is the primary time frame of pidyon ha-ben, and does not represent the optimum time for the performance of berit mila, the pidyon should be performed first.

Nevertheless, the Ranakh claims, one should actually perform the berit mila before the pidyon ha-ben in such a case. The ritual of berit mila marks the child's entry into the covenant of Israel, which is responsible for the child's inclusion in all other mitzvot. As the Ranakh writes, were it not for the mitzva of mila, there would be no obligation of pidyon ha-ben. For it is only the covenant with the Almighty, of which circumcision serves as the physical representation, that binds a Jewish child to the realm of Torah and mitzvot. This relationship of dependence, the Ranakh claims, warrants affording precedence to the circumcision over the pidyon ha-ben. This position is cited approvingly by the Shakh (Y.D. 305:12).

As noted by the Chida (Chayim Sha'al, 31), this ruling of the Ranakh brings to mind a passage in the Sefer Ha-aguda citing Rabbenu Gershom Me'or Ha-gola as issuing a similar ruling regarding the performance of a berit mila on Rosh Hashanah. Since all mitzvot ultimately stem from the covenant symbolized by circumcision, Rabbenu Gershom required performing the berit before shofar blowing – just as the Ranakh, many years later, held that circumcision should precede pidyon ha-ben. Rabbenu Gershom's ruling is codified by the Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 585:4).

Tomorrow we will discuss the possible implications of the Ranakh's ruling regarding a situation where the baby cannot be circumcised even on the 31^st day since birth, whether this will affect the scheduling of the pidyon ha-ben.

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Yesterday, we discussed an interesting halakhic question relevant to the mitzva of pidyon ha-ben, which the Torah introduces in Parashat Korach. The issue involved a situation of a firstborn infant who could not be circumcised due to medical concerns during his first month of life, and becomes eligible for circumcision on the same day on which his pidyon was to take place – the 31^st day since his birth. According to the Ranakh (16^th century, Turkey), the berit mila should be performed prior to the pidyon ha-ben, since the circumcision symbolizes the covenant between the baby and the Almighty, and this covenant is obviously required before he becomes obligated in other mitzvot.

Many later poskim addressed the question of whether this ruling would affect a situation where the child could not undergo circumcision even on the 31^st day. May the pidyon ha-ben be held despite the fact that the berit mila cannot yet be performed? At first glance, perhaps the Ranakh's logic would apply here, too. Since there can be no obligation of pidyon ha-ben without the covenant represented by berit mila, the child must first undergo mila before his pidyon ha-ben. On the other hand, however, as many authorities note, this rationale would lead to the absurd – and undoubtedly incorrect – conclusion that an uncircumcised male can never perform any mitzvot. In fact, Rav Yaakov Emden (Migdal Oz, 3:16) understood the Ranakh to mean that an uncircumcised child can never undergo pidyon ha-ben, and sharply disagrees, warning of the halakhically disastrous consequences of such a ruling. In a case, he argues, where a person is exempt from berit mila because of the deaths of his two older brothers as a result of circumcision (an established halakha known as meitu echav machamat mila), this child is clearly obligated in all mitzvot just as like any other Jewish male. But if we customarily delay pidyon ha-ben ceremonies until after a sick firstborn infant recovers and becomes eligible for circumcision, people will misconstrue this practice as an indication that an uncircumcised male is exempt from all mitzvot. As the Chatam Sofer writes (responsa, Y.D., 2:300, citing from the Beit Lechem Yehuda), "Someone who is a Jewish male and uncircumcised is simply like a person without tefillin on his head or a mezuza on his entrance, and this does not prevent him from fulfilling the rest of the mitzvot."

Rav Shlomo Kluger (Tuv Ta'am Va-da'at, 134) even cites evidence from the Talmud that pidyon ha-ben does not depend upon the child's prior circumcision. In Masekhet Bekhorot, the Mishna establishes that if a new father dies, Heaven forbid, later than one month after the baby's birth, we may assume that he performed the pidyon ha-ben before his death, and the community need not see to it that the child receives a pidyon. No distinction is made, Rav Kluger notes, with regard to the medical condition of the child or whether or not he underwent circumcision. Seemingly, then, berit mila is of no consequence as far as the obligation of pidyon ha-ben is concerned.

How, then, should we understood the ruling of the Ranakh? Why did he insist on performing the mila before the pidyon in a case when both occur on the same day?

The Chatam Sofer writes that giving precedence to berit mila is mandated by virtue of the concept of hiddur mitzva – the beautification of mitzvot. Halakha requires that one maintain a high aesthetic standard in the performance of mitzvot. At a pidyon ha-ben, the infant is the "mitzva object," if you will, and thus we must endeavor to ensure his "aesthetic" standard. Though this equation is clearly imperfect, ensuring a child's circumcision before pidyon ha-ben might be similar to ensuring to purchase a beautiful pair of tefillin or Shabbat candlesticks. Given the immense religious significance of mila, as the Ranakh emphasized, a mitzva is performed more meaningfully once a person has undergone circumcision. Therefore, the Ranakh's ruling applies only when the two mitzvot will be performed on the same day, and what's at stake is merely delaying the pidyon ha-ben just a few moments so that the child can be circumcised before the pidyon. But the Ranakh would not call for delaying the pidyon for days or weeks for this purpose. In fact, Rav Shlomo Kluger, in the aforementioned responsum, ruled that even if the circumcision can be performed only late on the thirty-first day, we would not delay the pidyon ha-ben until that late hour, but we should rather perform it early (zerizin makdimin le-mitzvot).

Nevertheless, the work Pidyon Ha-ben Ke-hilkhato (chapter 6, note 20) cites those who indeed require delaying a pidyon ha-ben until after circumcision, even if this would entail a prolonged delay. Though we normally do not sanction delaying the performance of mitzvot, nevertheless, in such a case, when the mitzva is put off in order to perform it at a higher standard, it is justified and warranted. The majority view, however, seems to maintain that only when the two will be conducted more or less in the same setting should the pidyon ha-ben be delayed until after circumcision.

(Taken from Rav Matis Blum's Torah La-da'at, Parashat Korach, 5764)

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Parashat Korach tells of the challenge against the authority of Moshe and Aharon's authority posed by Korach and his following. Two prominent rebels, Datan and Aviram, deliver a brazen message to Moshe and Aharon, undermining their authority and accusing them of leading the nation to an empty wilderness for purposes of sheer self-aggrandizement. In response, Moshe turns to the Almighty and pleads his case: "I have not taken a single donkey from them, nor have I done evil to any one of them" (16:15).

Rashi, based on the Midrash Tanchuma, comments that Moshe refers here to the donkey on which he rode when he returned to Egypt from Midyan after God assigned him the task of leading Benei Yisrael to freedom. Moshe here affirms that he did not even charge the people for his travel expenses incurred as he went to Egypt to assume his leadership role and bring the slave nation out of bondage. When Moshe declares that he did not take "a single donkey from them," he refers to his donkey ride from Midyan to Egypt to redeem the nation, for which he never requested compensation.

The question arises, why did Moshe even bother pointing to a specific instance of selfless leadership? Was there any possibility that Datan and Aviram's claims against him had some basis, such that Moshe found it necessary to review his record?

Rav Yerucham Lebovitz extracts from Rashi's comments an important lesson regarding the proper reaction to criticism. Even unfounded accusations and complaints must be given serious consideration. If a person is even baselessly castigated, it behooves him to take the opportunity to carefully review his record and see if perhaps some element of the accusation might have some basis. All too often, we reject criticism impulsively, out of hand, dismissing it without a second thought. Moshe, however, in response to the baseless and ludicrous accusations of Datan and Aviram, took a moment to review his past and consider if he may have possibly wronged any member or members of the nation during his tenure. Of course, his search came up empty, and he thus defends himself before God. But what's noteworthy is the process upon which he decided to embark upon hearing Datan and Aviram's condemnation. Regardless of how baseless the accusation, one should give some thought to it, using the opportunity for genuine cheshbon ha-nefesh (soul-searching) in an effort to move closer to perfection.

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Towards the end of Parashat Korach, the Torah delineates the various matenot kehuna – the gifts Benei Yisrael were required to give the kohanim in exchange for their service in the Mishkan. In this context, the Torah also mentions that the kohanim were not to be given a share in Eretz Yisrael, since, as God declares, "I am your share and your portion among Benei Yisrael" (18:20). Several verses later (18:24), the Torah applies this provision to the Levi'im, as well. Thus, the Torah establishes a permanent arrangement whereby the tribe of Levi receives no land for agricultural development, and is supported instead by the various gifts given to them by the rest of the nation. The Rambam lists two prohibitions in his Sefer Ha-mitzvot in this regard – one forbidding the Levite tribe from receiving a portion in the Land of Israel, and a second excluding them from the distribution of spoils of war (lo ta'aseh 169-170).

In his Mishneh Torah, the Rambam discusses these laws towards the very end of Hilkhot Shemita Ve-yovel. He explains that this provision is intended to allow the tribe of Levi to fulfill their task as attendants in the Temple and teachers of Torah, unencumbered by the mundane responsibilities involved with agriculture and the like. He then adds a very famous passage:

The Rambam here appears to allow anybody – even those from tribes other than Levi – to adopt the Levi lifestyle, of devoting themselves exclusively to the service of God. And the comparison he draws in this passage's final clause between such an individual and the kohanim and Levi'im suggests that the rest of the nation should support him, just as they provide sustenance of the tribe of Levi.

This passage has given rise to an entire literature, part of which addresses the seeming contradiction between these comments and the Rambam's remarks elsewhere. In Hilkhot Talmud Torah (3:10-11), the Rambam strongly condemns refraining from work to study Torah, while being supported through charitable donations. He elaborates on this issue with even greater force and adamancy in his commentary to Pirkei Avot (4:5), addressing the Mishna's admonition against using the Torah as "a spade with which to dig." How, then, might we explain the Rambam's comments at the end of Hilkhot Shemita Ve-yovel, where he appears to speak very favorably of withdrawing from worldly pursuits for the sake of exclusive spiritual engagement?

This question has been discussed by many different writers; we will cite here just a few comments among the many volumes-worth that have been printed throughout the centuries.

One of the more common explanations, which appears already in the commentary of the Radbaz, suggests distinguishing between simply refraining from profitable work itself, and soliciting charity money. The Radbaz writes that although the Rambam indeed permits one to withdraw from occupational activity for the sake of exclusive involvement in Torah, he does not permit one to cast his financial needs upon the community. Similarly, the Ma'aseh Rokei'ach explains that the person described by the Rambam in Hilkhot Shemita Ve-yovel either has enough money to live without working, or is prepared to live in poverty. The Rambam does not, however, permit soliciting charitable donations to allow one to adopt a Torah-only lifestyle. Indeed, many poskim write that even the Rambam would allow the widespread arrangement of a contracted rabbi or community-sponsored kollel. Since the community willingly offers the financial support, and the rabbi or student does not impose himself upon them, the Rambam would sanction such a system.

Rav Yosef Kapach, in his commentary to the Mishneh Torah, writes that this supposed "contradiction" results from an erroneous reading of the relevant passage in Hilkhot Shemita Ve-yovel. Those who raised this difficulty, he argues, wrongly assumed that the Rambam speaks of withdrawing from employment in order to devote oneself to Torah. However, Rav Kapach notes, the Rambam here speaks of "any person from among those who walk on earth," which presumably refers to Jews and gentiles alike. Clearly, the Rambam does not expect gentiles to devote themselves exclusively to Torah study. He must therefore be referring to some other type of lifestyle, rather than one that involves only Torah study. To what, then, does the Rambam refer? Unfortunately for us, Rav Kapach chose not to reveal what he considers to be the "real" intention of the Rambam: "I do not wish to elaborate on our rabbi's intent so as not to open the mouths of those with obstinate hearts and twisted minds, and who are bereft of knowledge." He feared that his interpretation of the Rambam's comments might be dangerously misconstrued.

Thus, the Rambam's comments at the end of Hilkhot Shemita Ve-yovel remain somewhat of a mystery.