The Day After July Fourth 2024: America at the Crossroads

The Day After July Fourth 2024: America at the Crossroads

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

July 5, 2024

Freedom comes with a price tag.

When we hear these words we usually think of those who paid the highest price, who gave their lives in the service of our country. We salute them, we place flags at their graves, and then, with hearts made heavier by our memories, we walk on. We move on; we live our lives to the fullest. And that is as it should be.

But what we don’t always think about is the price that we, the ordinary citizens, must pay for our freedoms. 

Nothing in life is free. We know that. Life owes no one anything. All that we can hope for is—hopefully—the outcome of the love and work we put into what we do. And yet we see freedom as a gift, our inheritance and legacy, even a human right. 

We Americans flaunt our political freedoms: We get to choose our leaders; the system allows for more than one party—in fact in a vibrant democracy like Israel there can be a dozen or more political parties—and we don’t have to choose between voting for the official Party or losing our jobs. In fact, we are free to host a candidate of our liking for an in-house meeting, join the party that best represents our interests, or even run for office ourselves.

But as with every choice we make, there are always consequences. We’ve seen before how a leader elected by large popular vote can turn into a dictator. A general can crown himself emperor; a “Chairman” or “Secretary” can turn into a blood-thirsty maniac. The Founding Fathers thought of these prospects as they wrote the Constitution, envisioning not a perfect government, but rather one that would best serve the majority, yet without shunning or restricting the rights of others. 

Yet throughout American history, equality could not be taken for granted. For the first two hundred years of independence, the right of women and Blacks to vote were restricted or even outright denied. Winning these basic human rights has not been easy. Ideologues, extremists and bigots escalate the struggle for power and turn it into a shouting, and sometimes violent, match. 

As with other minorities, Jews were also not always welcome in American public life. Well into the 1950’s, Jews were excluded from certain schools and country clubs, even from living in certain areas of town. All that despite the fact that America’s first President, George Washington, in a letter dated 18 August 1790 and addressed to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island (the Touro Synagogue), wrote: “May the Children of the Stock of Abraham, who dwell in this land, continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other Inhabitants; while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and figtree , and there shall be none to make him afraid.” This letter gave direction to what eventually (and however slowly) became the official policy of the United States towards Jews.

And yet present events have shown that we are still not there. Jews are not unafraid today. We are again, and still, finding ourselves excluded from various groups, institutions and, often, public discourse.

Historically, there is precedence to this phenomenon. It’s called anti-Semitism. Deeply rooted in religion, culture and philosophy, anti-Semitism is a recurrent experience which periodically bursts through conventional niceties. It’s supported by bigots and extremists, and taken advantage of by corrupt, power-hungry individuals who, at times of uncertainty, see the anger and frustration around them as a perfect opportunity to advance themselves.

But while dangerous in itself, anti-Semitism is symptomatic of an even greater peril: Historically, anti-Semitism has often been a precursor to the disintegration and downfall of entire countries and empires.

In this week’s Torah portion, Korach (Numbers 16:1—18:32) we find an example of the kind of power struggle that can lead to disaster. Some of us may remember the story of Korach from the 1956 movie The Ten Commandments, where it is retold in stunning visuals, forming the conclusion of the movie, right before the epitaph that then declares: “So it is written, so it shall be done.” 

But whereas the movie emphasizes the religious aspect of Korach’s rebellion—the dire consequences of rebelling against God and God’s chosen leaders—the message of this portion is actually much broader. As with so much of the Torah, the lesson here is also about us human beings, and how easily we can be led us astray by our passions and by corrupt leaders.

Korach is greedy and manipulative. While supposedly advocating for the rights of all people, he lists among his grievances the undue power and authority supposedly grabbed for themselves by Moses and Aaron: “You take too much upon yourselves, for all the congregation is holy, every one of them, and [the Eternal] is among them. Why then do you exalt yourselves above the assembly of [the Eternal]?” (Num. 16:3, NKJV). 

Korach is in a good place to claim a portion of this power for himself. He is privileged, a member of the Kohathites, the family of Levites to which Moses, Aaron and Miriam also belong. He feels unjustly relegated to a secondary role. And at a time when the Israelites are uncertain of their own faith, leadership and direction, Korach stirs their feelings of anger and frustration to the boiling point, hoping to become the new leader of the people himself. 

We face a similar situation in America today. Contesting religions and philosophies are striving for dominance; extremists sway undue power over government officials and leaders, and even in educational institutions. Politicians are often too afraid of numbers and polls, of losing money and influence, to stand up for law and civility. The difference between the Korach story and our own is that, unfortunately for us today, there doesn’t seem to be a visionary such as Moses, who will redirect us to our common—and vital—goals. 

The story of Korach isn’t only about a rebellion against God. It’s about realpolitik. It’s a cautionary tale about losing our way in the wilderness and the dangers of placing corrupt, divisive and manipulative groups and individuals in powerful positions.

In the Torah, it takes Divine intervention (and a shining example of human bravery and courage on the part of Aaron, the High Priest) to stop the rebellion and the ensuing conflagration. We however can’t afford to wait for this to happen—nor would we want to. What we call “acts of God” are actually notoriously destructive. What we need today is to find the courage within ourselves to stand up for what is right. In a democracy, it’s sometimes up to the us, the “We, the people,” the constituents who elected our officials: to rise against hatred and violence; to teach and to explain; to support those individuals and organizations that support us; to expect law agencies to enforce the law; and to demand that balance and reason become part of the public discourse again.

This is the lesson I take from this week’s study of Korach, coinciding this year with the Fourth of July 2024. Participation in our institutions, in our body politic, sometimes through donations of money and other times with time and effort, is the price we pay for our freedom. It’s our choice to sit back, do nothing and let divisiveness and hatred define the new us. Or we can take it upon ourselves to work even harder towards the goal of justice and equality for all. 

America is at a moral and even existential crossroads today. What it will be tomorrow is up to each and every one of us today.

© 2024 by Boaz D. Heilman