Elie Wiesel, A
Follower of Aaron
D’var Torah for
Parashat Korach
By Rabbi Boaz D.
Heilman
This week’s portion (Korach—Numbers 16:1-18:32) paints some
indelibly memorable images. Among these
are the uprising against Moses and Aaron, led by Korach and his band of 250 men
of might; the earth opening up to swallow the rebels—portrayed as a scene of
sweet revenge in Hollywood’s The Ten
Commandments and as a frightening moral lesson in the famous etching by
Gustave Dore; the budding and flowering of Aaron’s staff as a sign of God’s
choice of the rightful High Priest. But
to me, the most striking scene of all is that of Aaron holding up the incense
burner in an effort to stop the plague which God inflicted on the Israelites (Numbers
17:13 in the Hebrew Bible, 16:48 in the King James and other English
translations).
I picture in my mind Aaron, the High Priest, as he hurriedly
puts incense in the burner and lights it; then, shielding the glowing embers
with his hand, his hair, beard and robe disheveled, he runs to the midst of the
people. Standing “between the living and
the dead,” he holds up the burner and makes atonement for the people, stopping
the plague from spreading any further.
This act of supreme sacrifice and heroism is barely
surpassed in any other text that I know, if only for the understatement of its
description: No heroics, no grand gestures or incantations, only the striking
figure of desperation in the face of catastrophe.
The portion as a whole can be understood as a lesson in
leadership. God chooses Moses over
Korach, the Levites over the other tribes, and Aaron over other priestly factions. But the scene I just described adds another
layer to the definition of leadership.
It isn’t only God who chooses; we are chosen by our actions. Leadership isn’t only God-given; it is earned
by what we stand up for and what we do.
During this period of elections in America, the “Brexit” referendum
as well as the more violent and deadly struggles for power all over the world, Parashat Korach serves as timely reminder of what true leadership is all
about.
Interestingly, however, whether by some coincidence or not,
a simple transition took place this week that underscores the scene of Aaron’s
example of courage of heroism. I speak,
of course, of the death of Elie Wiesel.
Much has already been written about the man and what he
stood for. Yet a common thread that
weaves in and out of many of the articles that appeared this week is how Elie
Wiesel touched personally so many people.
You didn’t just hear him speak; you experienced something that touched
you deeply, uniquely.
Many wrote about the privilege of attending lectures or
taking courses with Elie Wiesel. Many
more wrote about the effect that reading Wiesel’s harrowing physical, spiritual
and moral struggles during the Shoah,
the Holocaust, had on them.
I had two personal encounters with Elie Wiesel. The first was in the early 1970’s, when I was
yet a student struggling with my own identity.
I had just read Wiesel’s Night
as well as Andre Schwarz-Bart’s devastating novel of the Shoah, The Last of the Just. These works
transformed me, and I proceeded to read many other works by Elie Wiesel. When I had the opportunity to hear the great
man speak, I went with great anticipation, and I was not disappointed. After the lecture, I went up to Mr. Wiesel
and thanked him “for opening the doors” to my understanding of my identity. He
smiled, shook my hand and thanked me in return.
Some fifteen years later, I met Wiesel again. This time he was the guest speaker at the
University of Houston Hillel, invited by the student organization which at that
time was directed by my wife, Rabbi Sally Finestone. Sally and I picked him up at his hotel to
drive him over to a private dinner followed by the lecture. When I offered him the front seat, he refused
it. “I never sit between a husband and
wife,” he explained as he settled into the back seat of our car.
Later, when he found out that Sally was pregnant, he
remarked that he had already met many rabbis, but that Sally was the first
pregnant rabbi he had ever met. And that
led to his saying the “Shehecheyanu” blessing, thanking God for the special
privilege.
The deeply personal nature of my encounters with Elie Wiesel
proved to me what I already knew: This
was truly a great man, simultaneously humble and heroic. His ideals and struggles were of enormous
power and influence. This was a man who
met and spoke with presidents, kings and popes, yet whose deep gaze and
expansive soul touched each and every person on some deep and very personal
level.
With his many works on the Shoah as well as other aspects of Jewish philosophy, culture and
learning, Elie Wiesel shed light on Jews and Judaism. He shed light on the dark places of human
nature, on violence and hatred, on anger and prejudice, on life and death.
In the Talmudic tractate called Pirkei Avot (“The Chapters of the Fathers”), Hillel, the great
rabbi of the 1st century, is quoted as saying:
“Be of the disciples of Aaron—a lover of peace, a pursuer of peace, one
who loves the creatures and draws them close to Torah.” No one exemplified this teaching with his whole
life and work than Elie Wiesel. May his
memory be a blessing to all, a source of life and hope to all who suffer
oppression and persecution.
© 2016 by Boaz D. Heilman
