Jun 12, 2021, Hill Havurah (DC)
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All biblical translations are from Sefaria.org, which uses the "New JPS,"
i.e., the Jewish Publication Society translation of 1985. JPS retains the copyright.
Other materials are copyright as noted.
"Parashat Korach is a chaotic mess. Within the 95 verses of this Torah portion are multiple active rebellions accompanied by multiple acts of divine punishment, all intertwined in a confusing and complicated narrative. But within this jumble lies a deep lesson about how to bring order to chaos and emerge from challenging times."
-- from "Between Chaos and Order" by Rabbi Charlie Schwartz, found on My Jewish Learning. Complete reading below
Selected verses from the week's portion (Numbers 16:1 - 17:32)
Transformations
It is odd and somewhat disturbing that the altar, the place of sanctification, was corrupted with these instruments of sin and recalcitrance [Num 17:1ff]. They should have been thrown away or dropped into the chasm that swallowed Korach and his partners... (p.146)
Korach's rebellion left its physical and historical mark in a place of continued ritual use. The incorporation of physical pieces of the past on the stage of forgiveness and expiation, thankfulness and devotion, creates a much fuller picture of the altar's significance. The altar was not merely a place where Israelites offered sacrifices to mark personal events and emotional states; it was a place that offered individuals meaning precisely because it carried the past of an entire nation: the joys, the deep pain, and the tears....failures were not ignored; they were memorialized through a permanent structure. The complicated, hammered past is part of the ongoing present when past evil is blended with the continuing spirit of goodness and optimism. (p.147)
-- Erica Brown. Leadership in the Wilderness: Authority and Anarchy in the Book of Numbers. (Milford, CT: Maggid Books, 2013)
Cracks
In her discussion of Korach, Zornberg quotes poet/performer Leonard Cohen, z"l. Cohen (Sep 21, 1934 – Nov 7, 2016), a singer/songwriter, poet and novelist, was born and raised in an orthodox Jewish community in Montreal, Quebec. His work often reflects Jewish perspectives and arguments with God. (See, e.g., "Leonard Cohen, Judaism's Bard" in the Atlantic (Nov 2016) or this entry at My Jewish Learning.) He told an interviewer in 1967 that he'd been raised, as a kohein, to understand himself as "a descendant of Aaron, the high priest" (Richard Goldstein, The Village Voice, 28 December 1967; cited in Crawdaddy, March 1975).
Zornberg writes:
-- More from Moses and more on cracks below
by Leonard Cohen
from the 1992 album, "The Future"
(c) 1992 Sony Music Entertainment
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in
The birds they sang at the break of day
"Start again", I seem to hear them say
Don't dwell on what has passed away
Or what is yet to be
Ah, the wars, they will be fought again
The holy dove, she will be caught again
Bought and sold and bought again
The dove is never free
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in
We asked for signs, and the signs were sent
The birth betrayed, the marriage spent
Yeah, the widowhood of every single government
Signs for all to see
I can't run no more with that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places say their prayers out loud
But they've summoned, they've summoned up a thundercloud
And they're going to hear from me
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in
You can add up the parts, but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march, on your little broken drum
Every heart, every heart to love will come
But like a refugee
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in
That's how the light gets in
That's how the light gets in
Avivah Zornberg, from Moses: A Human Life
(113) Korach, averse to spaces, suspicious of speech, is declared in the Zohar to have “repudiated the creation of the world.” This mystifying statement is profoundly connected with the Lurianic concept of tzimtzum. Korach is allergic to voids, breaches in the perfect circle of rationality, to the erotic reach of language itself. Intelligent, sane, like Chesterton’s madman,** he is incapable of the movement of desire.
-- Avivah Zornberg. Moses: A Human Life. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2016. p.137 (also available through Sefaria.org)
** earlier remark from G. K. Chesterton [Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874-1936), English writer and theologian -- oft-cited by Zornberg] and "the madman" is found in paragraph 109 below:
Ironically, in this reading, the machloket (disputatious) mentality avoids debate, argument, the exchange that affects both sides. Maharal’s narrative brings to mind G. K. Chesterton’s provocative statement: “The madman is not the man who has lost his reason. The madman is the man who has lost everything except his reason. . . . His mind moves in a perfect but narrow circle.” The perfect circle of the mad mind may take the form of a world of wholly holy people, undifferentiated from one another and from themselves, defined by their rightness.
(133) The Paradox of Song
But the rabbinic sages will not allow the matter to rest there. In spite of the conclusive ending of the story, they insist on reopening it. “Are the Korach conspirators destined to re-ascend from the underworld?”[1] There are a number of hypothetical answers to the question. But the question itself is significant. Something is not quite closed: the mouth can still ask questions. After all, there is the mysterious statement a few chapters later: “And the children of Korach did not die” (26:11). A full verse is given to the statement, leaving an impression of an unfinished thought.[2] And Korach’s children are later recorded as the singers in the Temple: several of the Psalms are attributed to the sons of Korach. But were they not swallowed up in the general cataclysm of “all Korach’s people”? (16:32).
(134) One resolution is offered in the Talmud: “A place was reserved for them in the underworld and they sat there and sang.”[3] At the last moment, they repent; or, more precisely, they experience pangs (hirhurim) of penitence—qualms, pangs of worry. They crack open, disrupted, their humanity restored. Perhaps Moses’ words did not fall on deaf ears after all.
(135) The songs of Korach’s sons are there in the Psalms for all to read. Some, particularly Psalm 88 [below in source sheet], record the very experience of those whose voices survive to register their own redemption. Repentance and song are forces that reopen the most closed of narratives.
(136) Here, we return to Moses, whose own history includes the paradox of song. It is, again, Sefat Emet, who spoke of the crack through which grace may enter, who draws our attention to Moses’ song-moment at the Red Sea: Az yashir moshe—“Then Moses sang/would sing . . .” (Ex. 15:1).[4] Sefat Emet, Vayikra (Pesach), 79. Rashi reads the unusual future-tense narrative form as a moment of intentionality: “Then there came up in his mind the intention to sing a song.” He also quotes the midrashic reading: “This is a biblical reference to the revival of the dead!” Sefat Emet comments: what Moses actually sings is that part of his internal song that lends itself to the words of the world. But a residue remains within, the fantasy of praise that cannot pass—not yet—the barrier of consciousness. This unconscious life is what the midrash refers to when it says that the text hints at the resurrection of the dead. Then, infinite desires, expressed only in fragmentary ways in this world, will find full expression. This is the intention that comes up in Moses’ mind.
(137) Beyond the words of the song that Moses authors, there is the residue of what cannot yet be sung. “Not yet” sustains the intuition of ultimate possibility. Moses’ intention of a future song emerges from his specific experience of speechlessness and song. Beyond his relation with his cousin Korach, there are songs that will yet find words: Korach’s sons will sing, and Moses’ song will redeem death itself.
[1] B Sanhedrin 108a. [Zornberg's note #51 on page 207]
[2] Typically, the biblical verse is composed of two halves, separated by a punctuation mark, the etnachta. This verse end in "mid-verse."[Zornberg's note #52 on page 207]
[3] B. Sanhedrin 110a. [Zornberg's note #53 on page 207]
[4] Sefat Emet Vayikra (Pesach), 79. [Zornberg's note #54 on page 207]
-- Avivah Zornberg. Moses: A Human Life. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2016. p.145-46 (text also available through Sefaria.org)
(124) “There is a crack in everything”
One last witness to the connection between Moses and Korach is the modern Hassidic master Sefat Emet.** He takes us to the beginning of the world—and to the end of the Korach narrative. He too tells of the chissaron, the incompleteness from which the world suffers. This is an essential incompleteness, which allows, on occasion, the victory of hessed (grace) over din (strict justice). We yearn for wholeness, precisely because, like the troubadours’ amour de loin [love from afar], it is far from us.
(125) There is a rupture in human experience—a crack in the cup—which generates this yearning; desire builds toward a transcendent source of grace—hessed—such as the Sabbath. The inherent turbulence of the world is exposed at the very moment when creation is completed, in the twilight moment before Shabbat. At this moment of greatest tension, “between the suns,” the demons of chaos (mezikin—destructive angels, as Sefat Emet calls them) are aroused and, with the onset of Shabbat, laid to rest. The world is made whole for the Shabbat moment.[1]
(126) Here, Sefat Emet brings us back to the Korach narrative. In this primal twilight, “the mouth of the earth (pi ha’aretz) was created.”[2] This is the crack into which Korach and his followers vanish. It represents all the chissaron—the fracture in the world—that Korach set himself to deny. Demonic forces take their revenge on him for his manic rationality. He has closed out the dynamic of longing that lives in language. He has lost the sense of the gaps and edges of human experience, and with it the ability to be permeated by infinity. Like a stone, he sinks into silence.
(127) Conclusive Meaning: The Mouth of the Earth
In bearing witness to Korach, Sefat Emet is also implicitly telling us about the different history of Moses. For Moses too, we have suggested, knows about the fantasy world of totality. For him it is perhaps more real than for any other human being. And yet he is moved toward others, toward Israel, toward himself, across the gaps. Increasingly, he comes to know that he was born into the cracked world in order to let light in. Language will be necessary, even a source of blessing, if he can find the stammering voice with which to speak.
(128) The final scene, the showdown between Moses and Korach, is initiated by Moses’ speech of warning:
(129) By this you shall know that it was God who sent me to do all these things; that they were not of my own devising [lit., not from my heart]: if these men die as all men do, if their lot be the common fate of all mankind, it was not God who sent me. But if God brings about something unheard-of [lit., if God creates a new creation], so that the ground opens its mouth and swallows them up with all that belongs to them, and they go down alive into Sheol, you shall know that these men have spurned God. (Num. 16:28–30)
(130) More than a warning, this speech is Moses’ theological confrontation with the rebels. It is about God and revelation and difference. Mostly, it is about knowledge: the approaching cataclysm will make the truth of their history apparent. And indeed, “The ground under them burst asunder, and the earth opened its mouth and swallowed them up” (16:31–32). The text insists on the grotesque oral imagery of Moses’ scenario. That the ground bursts asunder and the rebels go down to the underworld is apparently not sufficient to convey the scene. The earth must become a maw yawning wide, swallowing up its victims. When does this moment of oral horror arrive? With precision, the narrative presents the timing: “Scarcely had he finished speaking all these words . . .” (16:31).
(131) When Moses stops speaking, when he closes his mouth, the earth opens up its mouth and swallows. Speaking and eating— two oral functions—are in tension. As long as Moses speaks, the mouth of the earth remains closed. When it opens, it is not to speak but to consume. The terrible alternative to spoken words is the cataclysm of final and irrefutable revelations. Moses had, as it were, exhausted (k’chaloto . . . et kol ha-devarim) all the resources of language, so that nothing remained but the brute apocalypse. The limitation of human language, indeed, is that words can never achieve that finality, the last word, of the consuming earth. Moses speaks to the very last moment, in order, in a sense, to hold an option open. Orality is at issue here. Moses speaks not only to warn but also to exercise the power of language, to keep worlds in play. When he closes his mouth, the earth opens its mouth to devastating effect.
(132) In this horrifying scene, Moses stands at the very edge of the pit. When it yawns open and closes over the dead, something conclusive has happened. The truth of Moses’ story has been manifested. But this is a situation of final resort. With what feelings does Moses—and those like him who inhabit the difficult ground of language at the edge of the pit—view the closure of the story? The scenario seems to be his idea, since there is no mention of a command from God. Perhaps the apocalyptic scene represents his sense of the limits as well as the power of language. Once again, his early anxiety about not being heard is vindicated. Language displays its ultimate weakness. He is heard by God but not by the people. In the end, only the blatant theatricality of the earth’s mouth can bring the rebellion to an end.
**Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter (“Sefat Emet“) (1847-1905).
[1] Leonard Cohen writes of this moment: "Ring the bells that still can ring/ Forget your perfect offering/ There is a crack, a crack in everything/ That's how the light gets in." ("Anthem") [Zornberg's note #49 on page 207]**
[2] See Pirkei Avot 5: 8. [Zornberg's note #50 on page 207]
-- Avivah Zornberg. Moses: A Human Life. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2016. p.142-45 (text also available through Sefaria.org)
W.B. Yeats, "Crazy Jane Talks with the Bishop":
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.
Elsewhere in the same chapter, "'From Another Shore': Moses and Korach," Zornberg includes a reference to the Kotzker Rebbe (1787–1859): "There is nothing as whole as a broken heart." Bewilderments: Reflections on the Book of Numbers (NY: Schocken, 2015).
On related notes:
The 13th Century Persian poet Rumi wrote:
"Let a teacher wave away the flies and put a plaster on the wound.
Don’t turn your head. Keep looking at the bandaged place.
That’s where the light enters you.
And don’t believe for a moment that you’re healing yourself."
-- from Coleman Barks' translation of "Childhood Friends" in The Essential Rumi by Jalal al-Din Rumi, NY: HarperCollins, 1995, p.142 (Quotation sometimes compressed as "The wound is the place where light [or Light] enters you.")
Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977) wrote:
“The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.”
-- Speak, Memory: An Autobiobraphy Revisited (NY: Vintage, 1989; earlier, Harper & Bros, 1951).
Themes of being whole or allowing light or Light to enter are not common to author Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961). He did write about brokenness, including oft-cited, frequently miss-quoted, lines from A Farewell to Arms: “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”
from the Psalms of "Sons of Korach"
Psalms 42, 44-49, 84, 85, 87, 88 are directly attributed to "Sons of Korach"
[l'vnei Korach, sometimes, as below: "Korahites"]
Psalm 43 is linked literarily with 42 and so sometimes counted.
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(א) שִׁ֥יר מִזְמ֗וֹר לִבְנֵ֫י־קֹ֥רַח לַמְנַצֵּ֣חַ עַל־מָחֲלַ֣ת לְעַנּ֑וֹת מַ֝שְׂכִּ֗יל לְהֵימָ֥ן הָאֶזְרָחִֽי׃ (ב) יְ֭הֹוָה אֱלֹהֵ֣י יְשׁוּעָתִ֑י יוֹם־צָעַ֖קְתִּי בַלַּ֣יְלָה נֶגְדֶּֽךָ׃ (ג) תָּב֣וֹא לְ֭פָנֶיךָ תְּפִלָּתִ֑י הַטֵּ֥ה אׇ֝זְנְךָ֗ לְרִנָּתִֽי׃
(ד) כִּֽי־שָׂבְעָ֣ה בְרָע֣וֹת נַפְשִׁ֑י וְחַיַּ֗י לִשְׁא֥וֹל הִגִּֽיעוּ׃ (ה) נֶ֭חְשַׁבְתִּי עִם־י֣וֹרְדֵי ב֑וֹר הָ֝יִ֗יתִי כְּגֶ֣בֶר אֵֽין־אֱיָֽל׃ (ו) בַּמֵּתִ֗ים חׇ֫פְשִׁ֥י כְּמ֤וֹ חֲלָלִ֨ים ׀ שֹׁ֥כְבֵי קֶ֗בֶר אֲשֶׁ֤ר לֹ֣א זְכַרְתָּ֣ם ע֑וֹד וְ֝הֵ֗מָּה מִיָּדְךָ֥ נִגְזָֽרוּ׃
(ז) שַׁ֭תַּנִי בְּב֣וֹר תַּחְתִּיּ֑וֹת בְּ֝מַחֲשַׁכִּ֗ים בִּמְצֹלֽוֹת׃ (ח) עָ֭לַי סָמְכָ֣ה חֲמָתֶ֑ךָ וְכׇל־מִ֝שְׁבָּרֶ֗יךָ עִנִּ֥יתָ סֶּֽלָה׃ (ט) הִרְחַ֥קְתָּ מְיֻדָּעַ֗י מִ֫מֶּ֥נִּי שַׁתַּ֣נִי תוֹעֵב֣וֹת לָ֑מוֹ כָּ֝לֻ֗א וְלֹ֣א אֵצֵֽא׃
(י) עֵינִ֥י דָאֲבָ֗ה מִנִּ֫י־עֹ֥נִי קְרָאתִ֣יךָ יְהֹוָ֣ה בְּכׇל־י֑וֹם שִׁטַּ֖חְתִּי אֵלֶ֣יךָ כַפָּֽי׃ (יא) הֲלַמֵּתִ֥ים תַּעֲשֶׂה־פֶּ֑לֶא אִם־רְ֝פָאִ֗ים יָק֤וּמוּ ׀ יוֹד֬וּךָ סֶּֽלָה׃ (יב) הַיְסֻפַּ֣ר בַּקֶּ֣בֶר חַסְדֶּ֑ךָ אֱ֝מ֥וּנָתְךָ֗ בָּאֲבַדּֽוֹן׃ (יג) הֲיִוָּדַ֣ע בַּחֹ֣שֶׁךְ פִּלְאֶ֑ךָ וְ֝צִדְקָתְךָ֗ בְּאֶ֣רֶץ נְשִׁיָּֽה׃ (יד) וַאֲנִ֤י ׀ אֵלֶ֣יךָ יְהֹוָ֣ה שִׁוַּ֑עְתִּי וּ֝בַבֹּ֗קֶר תְּֽפִלָּתִ֥י תְקַדְּמֶֽךָּ׃
(טו) לָמָ֣ה יְ֭הֹוָה תִּזְנַ֣ח נַפְשִׁ֑י תַּסְתִּ֖יר פָּנֶ֣יךָ מִמֶּֽנִּי׃ (טז) עָ֘נִ֤י אֲנִ֣י וְגֹוֵ֣עַ מִנֹּ֑עַר נָשָׂ֖אתִי אֵמֶ֣יךָ אָפֽוּנָה׃ (יז) עָ֭לַי עָבְר֣וּ חֲרוֹנֶ֑יךָ בִּ֝עוּתֶ֗יךָ צִמְּתוּתֻֽנִי׃ (יח) סַבּ֣וּנִי כַ֭מַּיִם כׇּל־הַיּ֑וֹם הִקִּ֖יפוּ עָלַ֣י יָֽחַד׃ (יט) הִרְחַ֣קְתָּ מִ֭מֶּנִּי אֹהֵ֣ב וָרֵ֑עַ מְֽיֻדָּעַ֥י מַחְשָֽׁךְ׃ {פ}
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(1) A song. A psalm of the Korahites. For the leader; on maḥalath leannoth. A maskil of Heman the Ezrahite. (2) O LORD, God of my deliverance, when I cry out in the night before You, (3) let my prayer reach You; incline Your ear to my cry.
(4) For I am sated with misfortune; I am at the brink of Sheol. (5) I am numbered with those who go down to the Pit; I am a helpless man (6) abandoned among the dead, like bodies lying in the grave of whom You are mindful no more, and who are cut off from Your care.
(7) You have put me at the bottom of the Pit, in the darkest places, in the depths. (8) Your fury lies heavy upon me; You afflict me with all Your breakers.Selah. (9) You make my companions shun me; You make me abhorrent to them; I am shut in and do not go out.
(10) My eyes pine away from affliction; I call to You, O LORD, each day; I stretch out my hands to You. (11) Do You work wonders for the dead? Do the shades rise to praise You?Selah. (12) Is Your faithful care recounted in the grave, Your constancy in the place of perdition? (13) Are Your wonders made known in the netherworld, Your beneficent deeds in the land of oblivion? (14) As for me, I cry out to You, O LORD; each morning my prayer greets You.
(15) Why, O LORD, do You reject me, do You hide Your face from me? (16) From my youth I have been afflicted and near death; I suffer Your terrors wherever I turn. (17) Your fury overwhelms me; Your terrors destroy me. (18) They swirl about me like water all day long; they encircle me on every side. (19) You have put friend and neighbor far from me and my companions out of my sight.
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(א) לַמְנַצֵּ֗חַ מַשְׂכִּ֥יל לִבְנֵי־קֹֽרַח׃ (ב) כְּאַיָּ֗ל תַּעֲרֹ֥ג עַל־אֲפִֽיקֵי־מָ֑יִם כֵּ֤ן נַפְשִׁ֨י תַעֲרֹ֖ג אֵלֶ֣יךָ אֱלֹהִֽים׃ (ג) צָמְאָ֬ה נַפְשִׁ֨י ׀ לֵאלֹהִים֮ לְאֵ֢ל חָ֥֫י מָתַ֥י אָב֑וֹא וְ֝אֵרָאֶ֗ה פְּנֵ֣י אֱלֹהִֽים׃ (ד) הָיְתָה־לִּ֬י דִמְעָתִ֣י לֶ֭חֶם יוֹמָ֣ם וָלָ֑יְלָה בֶּאֱמֹ֥ר אֵלַ֥י כׇּל־הַ֝יּ֗וֹם אַיֵּ֥ה אֱלֹהֶֽיךָ׃
(ה) אֵ֤לֶּה אֶזְכְּרָ֨ה ׀ וְאֶשְׁפְּכָ֬ה עָלַ֨י ׀ נַפְשִׁ֗י כִּ֤י אֶעֱבֹ֨ר ׀ בַּסָּךְ֮ אֶדַּדֵּ֗ם עַד־בֵּ֥ית אֱלֹ֫הִ֥ים בְּקוֹל־רִנָּ֥ה וְתוֹדָ֗ה הָמ֥וֹן חוֹגֵֽג׃ (ו) מַה־תִּשְׁתּ֬וֹחֲחִ֨י ׀ נַפְשִׁי֮ וַתֶּהֱמִ֢י עָ֫לָ֥י הוֹחִ֣לִי לֵ֭אלֹהִים כִּי־ע֥וֹד אוֹדֶ֗נּוּ יְשׁוּע֥וֹת פָּנָֽיו׃
(ז) אֱלֹהַ֗י עָלַי֮ נַפְשִׁ֢י תִשְׁתּ֫וֹחָ֥ח עַל־כֵּ֗ן אֶ֭זְכׇּרְךָ מֵאֶ֣רֶץ יַרְדֵּ֑ן וְ֝חֶרְמוֹנִ֗ים מֵהַ֥ר מִצְעָֽר׃ (ח) תְּהוֹם־אֶל־תְּה֣וֹם ק֭וֹרֵא לְק֣וֹל צִנּוֹרֶ֑יךָ כׇּֽל־מִשְׁבָּרֶ֥יךָ וְ֝גַלֶּ֗יךָ עָלַ֥י עָבָֽרוּ׃ (ט) יוֹמָ֤ם ׀ יְצַוֶּ֬ה יְהֹוָ֨ה ׀ חַסְדּ֗וֹ וּ֭בַלַּיְלָה שִׁירֹ֣ה עִמִּ֑י תְּ֝פִלָּ֗ה לְאֵ֣ל חַיָּֽי׃
(י) אוֹמְרָ֤ה ׀ לְאֵ֥ל סַלְעִי֮ לָמָ֢ה שְׁכַ֫חְתָּ֥נִי לָֽמָּה־קֹדֵ֥ר אֵלֵ֗ךְ בְּלַ֣חַץ אוֹיֵֽב׃ (יא) בְּרֶ֤צַח ׀ בְּֽעַצְמוֹתַ֗י חֵרְפ֥וּנִי צוֹרְרָ֑י בְּאׇמְרָ֥ם אֵלַ֥י כׇּל־הַ֝יּ֗וֹם אַיֵּ֥ה אֱלֹהֶֽיךָ׃ (יב) מַה־תִּשְׁתּ֬וֹחֲחִ֨י ׀ נַפְשִׁי֮ וּֽמַה־תֶּהֱמִ֢י עָ֫לָ֥י הוֹחִ֣ילִי לֵ֭אלֹהִים כִּי־ע֣וֹד אוֹדֶ֑נּוּ יְשׁוּעֹ֥ת פָּ֝נַ֗י וֵאלֹהָֽי׃ {פ}
[breaks added for on-line reading ease]
(1) For the leader. A maskil of the Korahites. (2) Like a hind crying for water, my soul cries for You, O God; (3) my soul thirsts for God, the living God; O when will I come to appear before God! (4) My tears have been my food day and night; I am ever taunted with, “Where is your God?”
(5) When I think of this, I pour out my soul: how I walked with the crowd, moved with them, the festive throng, to the House of God with joyous shouts of praise. (6) Why so downcast, my soul, why disquieted within me? Have hope in God; I will yet praise Him for His saving presence.
(7) O my God, my soul is downcast; therefore I think of You in this land of Jordan and Hermon, in Mount Mizar, (8) where deep calls to deep in the roar of Your cataracts; all Your breakers and billows have swept over me. (9) By day may the LORD vouchsafe His faithful care, so that at night a song to Him may be with me, a prayer to the God of my life.
(10) I say to God, my rock, “Why have You forgotten me, why must I walk in gloom, oppressed by my enemy?” (11) Crushing my bones, my foes revile me, taunting me always with, “Where is your God?” (12) Why so downcast, my soul, why disquieted within me? Have hope in God; I will yet praise Him, my ever-present help, my God.
More on Korach
"Between Chaos and Order" and "How Not to Argue"
The biblical narrative of Korach's rebellion offers a deep lesson about how to emerge from challenging times.
By Rabbi Charlie Schwartz
Parashat Korach is a chaotic mess. Within the 95 verses of this Torah portion are multiple active rebellions accompanied by multiple acts of divine punishment, all intertwined in a confusing and complicated narrative. But within this jumble lies a deep lesson about how to bring order to chaos and emerge from challenging times.
At the heart of this portion are attempts by multiple members of the Israelite community to gain power. First, the eponymous Korach and his followers seek religious and communal power, addressing Aaron and Moses saying: “You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the LORD is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the LORD’s congregation?” Later, two other community members, Datan and Aviram, address their complaint to Moses specifically, seeming to suggest their insurrection was only against the power he personally wielded.
Rather than a straightforward story, the narrative of these critiques keeps changing. Sometimes Datan and Aviram are mentioned as being with Korach, sometimes they appear separately. Key details, such as whether Korach was consumed by divine fire or swallowed alive by the earth, are the subject of later debate. The narrative confusion helps to align the reader to the disorientation Moses must have felt when his leadership was attacked by multiple detractors. It also makes the chaos of the wandering in the desert vivid to modern readers.
At the climax of the rebellion, Korach and his followers are instructed to offer incense in their fire pans alongside Aaron, a test to see whom God favors. When the rebels offer their incense, they are consumed as punishment by a divine fire. In the aftermath of this, God makes what appears to be an odd demand, instructing the Israelites to make the pans into sheets as plating for the altar. Commentators have struggled to understand how the pans could have become consecrated and used to beautify the altar after they had been used in an attempt to usurp power from Moses and Aaron.
It is striking to consider that physical objects once used to sow chaos and dissent can be elevated into objects of beauty and holiness. Even more striking is that the pans forever changed the appearance of the altar. As God commanded, no Israelite could again look at the altar again without being reminded of Korach and his fate.
What the transformation of the fire pans tells us is that order can always be restored from chaos, but it will require transformation. And like the altar, that restored order will look very different than what came before.
"How Not to Argue" -- or "Stop Demonizing Those You Disagree With"
from Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, z"l (March 8, 1948- Nov 7, 2020)
Korach was swallowed up by the ground, but his spirit is still alive and well, and in the unlikeliest of places – British and American universities.
Korach was the embodiment of what the Sages called, argument not for the sake of heaven. They contrasted this with the schools of Hillel and Shammai, who argued for the sake of heaven.[1] The difference between them, according to Bartenura, is that argument for the sake of heaven is argument for the sake of truth. Argument not for the sake of heaven is argument for the sake of victory and power, and they are two very different things..... Full reading can be found on the archives of Rabbi Sacks and at this link: