Holding High The Torch of Freedom: Korach

Holding High The Torch of Freedom: Korach

D’var Torah in the aftermath of the killings in Charleston, S.C.

by Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

This week’s Torah portion, Korach (Numbers 16:1—18:32), describes an early event in the history of the nascent Jewish People, then still wanderers in the Sinai wilderness.  Korach, a Levite, raises an army in rebellion against Moses and Aaron, demanding that they be removed from power, or at least, be forced to share their power with others.

Of all Biblical characters, Korach is particularly sinister.  He is insidious.  His arguments reek of duplicity and manipulation.  Born to the same powerful clan of Levites as Moses and Aaron, his goals are ultimately to replace his cousins at the helm.  While claiming that all he wants is a more even distribution of power, he fully knows that his extra share will ultimately result in total control. 

Korach wants supreme and exclusive powers.  Moreover, he is willing to get it with no regard to consequences.  As it turns out, before the day is done, some 15,000 people will die as a result of Korach’s uprising.

As for Korach himself, his fate is described in two short sentences in the portion that bears his name.  Quite simply, the earth opens up and swallows up—while still alive—Korach and all that was his, including men, women and children.

This kind of boundless lust for power is one of the most dangerous characteristics of human beings.  The Bible, Shakespeare and all history are full of tales of murders and wars that result from people trying to seize ultimate power, desirous to be not only king or emperor, but, ultimately, a god.

The problem is, this toxic facet of humanity has not faded and gone away in time.  We see it still today, wreaking havoc and destruction both globally and also more locally.

The tragic shooting on Wednesday at the Emanuel A.M.E. Church in Charleston, S.C., is just such an act of madness and hatred.  Spewing racist epithets during his shooting rampage, the accused murderer claimed that he did it to provoke a race war.

Killing a pastor and unarmed men and women engaged in Bible study is the ultimate rebellion against God. 

To execute, in a house of God, an act for the purpose of causing a race war; to cause bloodshed based on ancient but deeply held prejudice and hatred, is an act of the most reprehensible evil.

A similar event took place early Thursday morning in Israel.  Though no lives were taken, extremists set ablaze an ancient church seated on the shore of the Sea Galilee.  Built to commemorate a New Testament miracle, the Catholic Church of Multiplication was sprayed with quotes from Hebrew prayers and the Torah before it was set on fire.

Again, an act of blasphemy, of swearing falsely in God’s name and of the taking of God’s name in vain.  This was an act of hatred without regard for rationale or consequences.  Beyond any practical goals, no matter how negligible and idiotic, what could the vandals hope for?  What were they thinking? Did they stop to consider the global condemnation that would surely follow, directed not at them, but at the entire State of Israel—especially during this time of fragile relationships even among friends?  Did they stop to consider the calls that are without a doubt bound to come, for retaliation in in-kind retribution?

Did they stop for a moment to consider the political ramifications, the further harm done to those who hope, pray and work for peace in a region so exhausted, so ravaged by over a century of terror, bloodshed and wars?

This week’s portion, Korach, does contain one beautiful and highly evocative image.  It is that of Aaron, the High Priest, running at Moses’s command to help stop a conflagration caused by God to punish the sinners among the Israelites.  The section describes Aaron standing (Numbers 17:13) “between the dead and the living,” holding high his incense pan.  This act of heroism is one we all can learn from.

Aaron ran—he did not walk, saunter, or meander from his purpose.  He ran “into the midst of the assembly.”  Unafraid, raising the banner of hope, freedom and love, Aaron singlehandedly stopped the inferno from escalating.

So must we now all rally, like Aaron, to stop the blight of hatred and prejudice that seems to overtake us at every turn.  Expressing our love for the families of those whose lives were so cruelly taken at Emanuel AME Church, conveying our care for the whole Charleston community, and our concern for the entire American people, we must stand united to teach those who commit such heinous crimes, who hold such odious opinions, that hatred has no chance against love.  That domination and oppression have no chance against our cherished values of freedom and equality.

And it must start right here, between the dead and the living, in the midst of our assembly.  Because it is right here, not at some distant place across mountains, rivers or seas, that the danger lies.  If we say or do nothing, we are part of the problem, not the solution.  Love and acceptance for one another are the true answer that we must all find within our souls, the true goal towards which we must all aim and work tirelessly to make real around us.

Before it’s too late.

© 2015 by Boaz D. Heilman