Korah

012

What an ugly and overwhelming story, that of Korah! Disconcerting on more than one level, distressing in more than one sense, it confronts the reader and forces him to reread it, so overwhelming and invasive is its perplexity. It is not at all astonishing that Rashi, the greatest of our biblical and talmudic interpreters, felt the need to draw our attention to the Midrash and its rich discussion of this first revolt—organized against Moses.^a

Truth to tell, Korah is difficult to understand. Something about him escapes us and troubles us. Could it be that he is so nearly transparent, it seems easy, too easy, to grasp his motives, which can only be described as vile and base?

Here is a person who should be content with his lot. He belongs to a famous tribe, he is related to the great chiefs of the nation, he is respected in high places—and yet he remains unsatisfied. Never at peace with himself. We sense he is agitated inside, sapped by hostile, ill-fated forces; he tends toward destruction, and in the end he destroys himself.

At first glance, it is simply a question of jealousy. Ah, yes, Korah is jealous. Of whom? Of Moses and Aaron. One is prophet, the other high priest, and he, Korah, is nothing compared to them. He has no official title. His obligations are the same as those of any Levite, nothing more. It is no surprise, then, that he is bitter. And spiteful. After all, isn’t he the grandson of Kohath, the great-grandson of Levi, the third son of Jacob, the founder of the nation? Given his heritage and his social position, doesn’t he deserve some deference, some honor? He feels he is the victim of a painful injustice. It is only human that he reacts, that he flies into a passion, that he protests, that he foments his small insurrection against the powers that be.

Let us look at the text: “Vayikach Korah son of Izhar son of Kohath son of Levi…” (Numbers 16:1). The first phrase—the bonds of family—describes him; the first word—Vayikach—defines and encompasses him. Strange term, Vayikach, it intrigues the commentators: “He took.” But took what? From whom? How? For Rashi, quoting midrashic sources, the act implicates Korah’s own person: “Korah took himself and placed himself on one side opposite the entire community.” Furthermore, Onkelos translates Vayikach as “He separated himself.”^b Separated, 014and thus in opposition. To whom? To the system. To the structures. To those elected by God.

But how is this new?

This is not the first time that the people, only recently freed from the Egyptian yoke, have manifested their impatience and their ingratitude. In the midst of the most grandiose adventure of all time, they have not yet succeeded in detaching themselves from their old habits, their narrowness, their petty concerns. They complain: The water is too bitter, the food too little, the walk in the desert too strenuous. And the sad affair of the “scouts” (Numbers 13). And that of the golden calf (Exodus 32). In what way, then, does this episode differ, given that it is no worse than so many others?

In the other cases, Moses intercedes with the Lord and begs him to pardon his people, who have gone astray. Here, too, Moses steps in, but not in the same manner. All he and his older brother, Aaron, can say is, “If an individual commits a sin, is this reason to become angry with the whole community?” (Numbers 16:22). That is all. No supplication or false threats, as elsewhere. In fact, Moses accepts the divine verdict.

The reason? Is it because this time, unlike the others, the insurrection is led against him personally? Possibly. But there is something else. Before, the recriminations came mostly from the populace. Now, it is the elite that leads the attack. And Korah is at its head.

The text demonstrates this clearly: Korah is followed by 250 men, all community leaders, approaching the sacred Tent. All reputable persons. Vayakumu, says the text. “They rose” (Numbers 16:2). They first rise together before Moses alone—or against Moses alone. Here, too, Onkelos the proselyte is, as always, more explicit: Vayakumu bekhutzpa; it is with arrogance, with insolence, that they stand before Moses. In the following verse, it is against both Moses and Aaron that they revolt: “We are all holy, why do you set yourself higher than God’s community?” Rashi, quoting the midrash Tanhuma, comments: The rebels cry, “You were not alone when you listened to God saying that he is God to all of us; we were all there at Sinai, we heard him just like you.” And suddenly, they call out to Moses in particular: “While you chose royalty for yourself, you should not have offered the priesthood to your brother!” Then, says the text, Vayisuma Moshe vayipol al panav: “Moses heard and fell with his face to the ground” (Numbers 16:4). This verse is in the singular. Which surprises our sages. And Aaron, where was he? Why did he remain silent? Very 015simple, they reply. The anger of the envious, the rage of the malcontents, was directed first and foremost at Moses. He is the target—the leader. It is he who makes all the unpopular decisions. It is he who is blamed for all the deficiencies, all the shortages, all that goes wrong. It is he whom they detest. A talmudic source (in the tractate Sanhedrin) goes even further, saying, “Moses heard his adversaries who accused him of adultery.” And the Talmud adds, “In fact, every one of the men in the camp suspected Moses of having an affair with his wife.” So much wickedness was too great for Moses. He could not take any more.

Another source offers a different explanation: If Aaron keeps quiet, it is because he is humble. In his innermost heart he is convinced that Korah is right: Korah is undoubtedly better and more deserving than he is.

But humility is precisely what Korah lacks. This is clear in the biblical text and a thousand times more apparent in the talmudic literature. There, the emphasis is placed on Korah’s gifts. He is neither mediocre nor indifferent. Ambitious beyond measure, he knows how to please, to convince, to seduce. It is with his speeches, says the midrash Tanhuma, that Korah succeeds in attracting the 250 community leaders.

Moreover, it is by making use of his talent for “debate”—a talent Moses lacks—that Korah tries to destabilize the existing power and gain a choice position. He discusses halakhah (religious law) with Moses, asking him questions about the tallit and the mezuzah.^c This pleases some people. Dathan and Abiram, sons of Eliab, become his closest allies (Numbers 16:1). Moses endeavors to educate them, to convince them. In vain. Their response is an outrage to truth as much as to decency: “You tore us away from a country flowing with milk and honey only to have us perish in the desert, and this is still not enough for you? You have to rule over us as well?” (Numbers 16:13). In truth, they go too far, these two. Egypt, a land flowing with milk and honey for the hapless Hebrews? Have they already forgotten the harshness of slavery, the cruelty of their supervisors, the inhuman laws of Pharaoh? This does not prevent Moses from continuing his struggle. Without taking into consideration the dignity of his post, he approaches Dathan and Abiram to renew the dialogue. To no avail. To limit the extent of the collective punishment, Moses addresses the neutral members of the community and requests that they stay away from the rebels. And he concludes by saying to the people: “If these rebels die of natural causes, that is because I am not the envoy of the Lord. But if the earth opens up and swallows them alive, that is because I am.”

Even now, he tries to save the innocent. According to the midrash, he says to God: “A human king chastises all his people when he does not know who is guilty and who is not; but You can read the most intimate and secret thoughts of beings, You know who is at fault and who is innocent. I beg You, punish only the guilty.” And God answers him: “Your argument is correct, the innocent have nothing to fear.”

At that moment, the earth splits open and an immense flame bursts forth. Korah and his accomplices disappear.

But not his children.

What is the lesson of this story? There are several. Children are not responsible for the faults of their parents. And also, a disciple should never lose respect for his master. And then, everyone should know his limits. And what is even more important, and regrettable: Jealousy is human. The greatest are not spared. Moses himself, a legend from the midrash tells us, suffered a pang of jealousy on account of his faithful servant Joshua, who was appointed his successor. But he regained control quickly. And although he dearly wanted to live longer, he cried out: “Lord, better a thousand deaths than one moment of jealousy.”

The tragedy of Korah? He fell victim to his own weakness.

Translated from French by Jeanne Viljoen.

What an ugly and overwhelming story, that of Korah! Disconcerting on more than one level, distressing in more than one sense, it confronts the reader and forces him to reread it, so overwhelming and invasive is its perplexity. It is not at all astonishing that Rashi, the greatest of our biblical and talmudic interpreters, felt the need to draw our attention to the Midrash and its rich discussion of this first revolt—organized against Moses.a Truth to tell, Korah is difficult to understand. Something about him escapes us and troubles us. Could it be that he is so nearly transparent, […]