Korah and America at 250- Korah 5786

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”

That excerpt, as I’m sure many of us realize, is from our American Declaration of Independence. I’ve long been a student of American history, and continue to be. When I was 8 years old, I could name all of the presidents. I memorized states and capitals, and always loved learning about the United States. I don’t know if it’s because I grew up very close to Washington DC, or if I’m simply built that way, but it’s a facet of my personality that I love leaning into. I have a nice shelf at home full of thick presidential biographies, and am currently in the midst of one right now (it’s not the lightest, easiest reading for Shabbat, but I do find it engrossing).

This Shabbat we read parshat Korah, which is about leadership and privilege. As we approach the semiquincentennial of the United States in two weeks, it’s hard to not feel the weight of history in this moment for both our country and the Jewish people. Questions of leadership and privilege have moved to the fore in both the Jewish community, and among Americans.

Korah’s rebellion against Moses is quashed rather quickly, but it doesn’t arise out of nowhere. I want to claim that that excerpt above from our Declaration, in a way, sums up what Korah is trying to do. To put it blithely: the current regime isn’t working, so we need regime change. I would actually argue that Korah, on one level, has a legitimate grievance. He and 250 other leaders (anshei shem, or “men of repute” they’re referred to) rise up against Moses in 16:3 and say: “Rav Lachem!”– “You have gone too far!” 

The biblical scholar Aviva Gottlieb Zornberg in her wonderful book “Bewilderments: Reflections on the Book of Numbers” calls this statement a “manifesto of resentment”. The verse continues:

כִּ֤י כׇל־הָֽעֵדָה֙ כֻּלָּ֣ם קְדֹשִׁ֔ים וּבְתוֹכָ֖ם יְהֹוָ֑ה וּמַדּ֥וּעַ תִּֽתְנַשְּׂא֖וּ עַל־קְהַ֥ל יְהֹוָֽה׃

For all the community are holy, all of them, and GOD is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above GOD’s congregation?”

Korah and Moses, let’s remember, are first cousins, whose differences arise out of a shared history. They’re both Levites, so they both already have a position of privilege by virtue of birth. But this isn’t enough for Korah and his followers. According to the plain meaning of the text, it seems that Korah wants to elevate the entire people and not just the tribe of Levi. But it seems that Korah could be also using that motive as a guise to gain personal power. After all, 600,000 plus Israelites can’t all determine their fate together. There is already a system in place of proportional representation, if you will: Moses has previously set up a system of chieftains for the tribes, who help settle disputes between the people.

Perhaps, then, Korah’s rebellion is really based more on causing division in the community than engendering unity. And division, we know all too well, tears communities apart. Aviva Zornberg writes that “Korah’s discourse is one of total rightness, of uncompromising and transparent righteousness. Such people bring ruin upon the world: inflexible, unyielding, they are incapable of ‘going beyond the strict line of law.’”

It might sound trite, but the United States is more divided now than ever in my lifetime. Our politics are more polarized than ever; there doesn’t seem to be one unifying idea among Americans on which we can agree, sadly, regarding the direction of our country. Our place in the world, and our self-perception, varies greatly depending on who is in the conversation.

How do we bridge such differences? I don’t have a simple answer, but I do feel that we all need to do the work of at least hearing one another’s reasonable points of view, if not agreeing on them. My friend, who is a journalist in Israel, implores others to at least, for a little bit, consume news and media that don’t conform to your own point of view. Not the most extreme, polarized and radical of those outlets, to be sure; but to at least cock your ear over the fence and hear what your neighbor thinks.

I want to add that this is part and parcel of Jewish tradition. The Mishna and Talmud, for page after page after page, records minority opinions on the law and the names of those rabbis ascribed to them, leaving open the possibility in some cases to hold by minority opinions. We have our own tradition of making room for other perspectives which might differ from our own majority opinions, while simultaneously not platforming them.

But minority opinions become dangerous when they are not based in truth, and this is something that causes multiple rifts between Moses and the Israelites from the time they leave Egypt- especially in the book of Numbers. The people repeatedly misrepresent and misremember (perhaps purposefully) their years of bondage in Egypt, going so far as to remember the abundance of food which they supposedly ate to satiety there.

The story of the Israelites is neither entirely one of victimhood, nor of noble action. It’s both bad moments and good moments, and we have to acknowledge both of those to appreciate the full scope of our history. Americans today are divided on how to remember our past history. We are simultaneously a country founded on the ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in a lofty Declaration of Independence that was conceived solely by white males, among whom were slaveholders. We have a proud history of immigration to our country based on those ideals that at times was hindered by our government, including imposing quotas on Jews and other ethnicities and countenancing a cruel slave trade that brought Africans to our shores in chains. We hold voting as a sacred right (I would call it a duty) of citizenship, yet some of our elected officials impose barriers against the exercising of that franchise which all-too-obviously are meant to disenfranchise certain minorities and squelch their own representation in government. 

I could go on…but you get the picture. Our history is messy; but those who would rewrite it entirely do a disservice to our shared heritage. Our national story should at times, yes, discourage us- and it should also prod us to work towards that “more perfect union” envisioned in our Constitution. And good leadership should always move towards that end- knowing that they themselves may not see the ends to which they are working. Leadership, I believe, works best when it is granted by those who would be led, and not taken by force. Korah’s rebellion is meant to be something of a coup d’etat- power taken forcefully. Yet in this episode and others, the people do return to Moses- not without struggle at times, it must be said- and to his divinely-inspired leadership.

It’s hard for the Israelites to feel hopeful in the moments described in our parsha, and throughout Sefer Bemidbar. And it can feel hard to be hopeful as Americans in this current moment as well. There are 250 rebels who side with Korah, and we too have 250 years of American history to contend with. That’s a lot of baggage, and a challenge to reckon with. But the story of the Israelites does not conclude in the desert, despite the odds; nor does it conclude at the end of the Torah, or the Tanakh, or in the year 2026. The story of the United States of America is ongoing as well, and has much in common. We overcome difficult moments, but sometimes have myopic views of them in hindsight, or trouble processing them communally. 

Difficult as it may be at times, I encourage us to contend with our sometimes messy, sometimes proud history as Americans, and as Jews, and as American Jews. Only by acknowledging both the high points and low points of our story are we able to move forward intentionally, towards that more perfect union. The Israelites in the Torah never quite learn this lesson, but we can.

Our story isn’t perfect, and there’s no such thing as perfect leadership. But good leaders, and the people they lead, have shared values and objectives. Despite the volatility and pain of our national mood at times, I believe that the majority of us do have common ground. That ground has been obscured and trampled on by bad actors and poor decisions at times, but I believe it’s there nonetheless. Citizenship and nation-building is sometimes hard work, but it’s necessary and in furtherance of shared interests. We need to engage in that work; I believe that we’ll be better for it. And a 250th anniversary seems as good a time as any to do so.