Hero, Anti-Hero
The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Phinehas the son of Eleazar the son of Aaron the kohen has turned My anger away from the children of Israel by his zealously avenging Me among them, so that I did not destroy the children of Israel because of My zeal. Therefore, say, “I hereby give him My covenant of peace. [Numbers 25:10-12]
Phinehas, or Pinchas, was just a regular young man with a famous father and a foreign mother. He was born too early to become a priest. He was born too late to participate in the liberation of Israel from Egypt. He was like millions of others you pass on the street each day and never bother for a second glance.
But Pinchas’ turned a corner when the Jews were seduced by the Moabite women and along with the orgies came idol worship. G-d responded by exacting a plague on the Israelites that claimed tens of thousands. But the people kept on sinning.
One of them was the prince of the tribe of Shimon who found himself not with a Moabite rather with the princess of Midian, the nation that started all the trouble. As his people were dying around him, the prince, Zimri Ben Tzalu, grabbed the princess, Kozbi Bat Tzur, in front of Moses and the leadership. Zimri taunted Moses as he drew close to Kozbi. Moses was left speechless and the people around him cried in despair.
But Pinchas came to his great uncle, Moses, and reminded him that a Jew who fornicates with a gentile woman is subject to vigilante justice. Moses replied: Go for it.
And Pinchas did: Pretending he wanted to join the fun, Pinchas approached Zimri and Kozbi and then drove a spear into both of them. Then, with the entire tribe of Shimon ready to pounce, Pinchas raised the two naked bodies and cried out to G-d: “Shall 24,000 people die for these two?” G-d stopped the plague.
You’d think that this young man, whose name is that of this week’s Torah portion, would be congratulated for halting the death of a nation. Perhaps, he would be honored by the leadership, which would eventually name a bridge or reservoir after him. Instead, the tribe of Shimon tried to kill him while those from other tribes shouted angrily, “Who gave you the right to do this? Didn’t your mother come from an idol-worshipping people?
And that’s the story of a hero: He is alone, unappreciated and even called the villain.
Most Jews have never heard of Robert Serebrenik. As chief rabbi of Luxembourg, he saved thousands of Jews from the Germans in 1940 and 1941. He spirited them off to Vichy France and from there to neutral Portugal or Spain. The SS was in apoplexy: Here was this Austrian-born rabbi, not yet 40, defying Hitler’s Final Solution.
The first response of the Nazis was threats; then the SS got its quislings to accuse Serebrenik of making a fortune over rescue. Finally, he was summoned to Adolf Eichmann’s office in Berlin where he was greeted by Leo Baeck, the chief reform rabbi of Germany, as well as other members of the Judenrat. Eichmann barked at Serebrenik that he must stop sending Jews to Vichy or Spain and instead clear out all his coreligionists from Luxembourg within 11 days.
When the rabbi returned home he sent more Jews out of the German grip. Days later, the Nazis jumped him after Sabbath services and nearly beat him to death. In June 1941, he and his wife escaped Luxembourg and eventually reached the United States.
You’d think a man who saved the majority of the 5,000 Jews of Luxembourg would be given a hero’s reception in New York. Instead, he was ignored. Even today, look up Serebrenik on the Yad Vashem website and you see no trace that he rescued Jews. On the other hand, the gentiles who worked with the rabbi are celebrated. Victor Bodson, a former justice minister, was said to have saved 100 Jews and was classified by Yad Vashem as a Righteous Gentile. In the end, Serebrenik’s fate was not much different from the other Jews who saved their brethren: They weren’t seen as heroes, rather anti-heroes.
Pinchas also felt the cold shoulder of the Israelite leadership. The opening of the Torah portion says, “The Lord spoke to Moses,” using the Hebrew Vayedaber. That word denotes harshness or rebuke, as if G-d is hinting to Moses, “Why didn’t you join Pinchas rather than simply encourage him to go it alone?”
G-d’s reward saved all of Israel: The plague ended and even Pinchas’ critics were saved. G-d made a covenant with Pinchas that he would never be harmed — whether by the relatives of Zimri or Kozbi. Pinchas also headed the military campaign against Midian, which unlike Moab had no reason to confront Israel.
And finally, Pinchas also saved his grandfather Aaron. Chaim Ibn Attar, known as the Or Hachayim, writes that Aaron, like his younger brother, was also confronted by an orgy of idol worship during the sin of the Golden Calf. As the Israelites danced around the idol, Aaron was largely passive, and G-d blamed him for the downfall within Israel. After Aaron’s death, Pinchas took the initiative and in stopping the prince and princess brought atonement for Aaron. Later, the Talmud said, Pinchas became Elijah, the prophet who fought idolatry and corruption in the Kingdom of Israel, a mission that was both frustrating and unappreciated.
Whether Pinchas or Robert Serebrenik, the hero is usually vilified for his actions. At best, he is seen as a troublemaker. More likely, he is termed power- or money-hungry rather than simply a righteous man who risked his life for his people. This response, however, fails to address the key issue: Had the leadership done their job, there wouldn’t have been a need for Pinchas and the others. But the leadership were complacent and could only react rather than act. They could only throw up their hands rather than take responsibility.
In the end, few people want a zealot such as Pinchas. But without him, the Jewish people stand no chance.
Note
For more information on the Jews of Luxembourg, see “The Jews of Luxembourg during the Second World War.” Ruth Zariz. Holocaust and Genocide Studies, Volume 7, Issue 1, Spring 1993, Pages 51–66/
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