Elie Wiesel, A Follower of Aaron: Korach 2016

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