Standing before my congregation to lead High Holy Day worship was always a milestone and a challenge unto itself. The weeks, even months, of preparation as a rabbi serving a small congregation encompassed a wide range of tasks, as I was the only full-time staff member. Service orders, set-up plans, publicity, music, flowers, and assigning parts to congregants, were all responsibilities that I either did on my own or shared with part-time staff and volunteers. Oh, did I mention four sermons, two for each holy day? How could I forget?
There was one moment on Yom Kippur, usually as the service began, that I added to worship over the years. Gates of Repentance included this reading before the confessional prayers on Yom Kippur morning: “I hereby forgive all those who have hurt me, all who have wronged me, whether deliberately or inadvertently, whether by word or by deed. May no one be punished on my account. As I forgive and pardon those who have wronged me, may those whom I have harmed forgive and pardon me, whether I acted deliberately or inadvertently, whether by word or by deed.”
At the beginning of Yom Kippur, before the open ark, I shared my own version of that prayer, bringing to light, in a few original sentences, the difficulties of congregational life that may lead to conflict, often based on misunderstandings that arise which, at times, could not be fixed or healed. I realized that, in my striving to be a humble leader, I needed to make that statement. It had deep meaning for me, and I hope that it set an example for my community members, perhaps fostering closer relationships and positive results for the year to come.
I thought about that moment in Yom Kippur worship of my rabbinate in relation to this week’s parashah, Korach, because of Moses’ immediate reaction to Korach’s initial protest. The text says, in Numbers Chapter 16, verse 4: VAYISHMA MOSHE, VAYIPOL AL PANAV, “And Moses listened, and he fell on his face.” Some commentators assert that this act illustrated that Moses was ashamed. From my perspective, it was a display of humility characteristic of Moses in the common biblical and rabbinic view.
Leadership is fulfilling, but it also can be difficult, challenging, and, very often, lonely. Some people who are dissatisfied with their leaders may have legitimate criticisms based on extensive knowledge of their current situation. Others may not see the whole picture. They may, instead, focus primarily on what they believe they deserve in terms of communal or political position and status.
In the Torah reading for this week, KORACH, there seem to be two rebellions against Moses and Aaron and their leadership. Korach, accompanied by 250 claimants, was a cousin to Moses and Aaron. He was a Levite, so that he had significant duties in Israelite worship, but he was not eligible to be among the priestly families who served as ritual leaders. Korach claimed that, if it was true that all the Israelites were holy, then no one, not even the priests, should be considered holier than anyone else. Korach viewed the leadership of Aaron and Moses with a feeling of jealousy, seeking for himself and his associates their power, without acknowledging the burden of responsibility that Moses and Aaron had taken upon themselves and the difficulties involved in leading the people.
Dathan and Abiram were instigators of unrest based on their own dissatisfaction with the plight of the people following their flight to freedom. They thought that being descendants of Reuben, Jacob’s oldest son, gave them the right to be leaders over Moses and Aaron and everyone. Furthermore, they saw the state of the Israelites in the wilderness as less preferable to their former life of slavery in Egypt. In their complaint, they called Egypt “a land flowing with milk and honey,” using the very phrase that described the lush land of Canaan that the people would eventually enter. The Torah recounts that both of these rebellions, which saw leadership as a function only of status and not also of inspiration, met their demise at the hand of God. I will spare you the details.
We may be understandably uncomfortable with the specter of anyone being crushed by divine power. These tales of rebellion, which are two stories merged into one, must be in the Torah for a reason, so that we can derive some lesson on a metaphorical level or gain some insight on leadership and community life.
So what can we learn from this parashah? One way of viewing the disposition of the rebel leaders, Korach, Dathan and Abiram, is to note how they undermined their own cause through their envy, anger and pessimism. They had disqualified themselves from instilling any sense of hope and confidence among their people. They saw the plight of the moment, blamed it on their leaders, and tried to convince the people that they could do better, without offering anything more than demagoguery and an utter rejection of the status quo. They weren’t willing to admit that the current leadership could, in any way, take them along a path towards a better life and welcome change. Some of them hadn’t moved from the mindset of slavery in Egypt, where their needs were met with a great measure of disrespect and cruelty. They were not yet free people who could see their new status as an opportunity. According to the Torah, one reason that the Israelites wandered for so long was that they needed a change in attitude that could only be nurtured over a period of years with patience and perseverance. The Israelites had to let go of their past before they could adopt an optimistic outlook toward the tasks of community-building that awaited them in the decades to come.
True leadership requires an ability to adapt and change, encouraging people to think in new ways and to consider untried ideas and approaches to the challenges before them. It also requires humility to balance out arrogance. Moses showed that trait when he fell on his face in front of the entire people.
Torah commentator Yeshayahu Leibowitz saw Korach’s assertion about the holiness of the Israelites to mean that “we have achieved our goal of being a holy people and nothing more needs to be demanded of us” to maintain that sanctity. It was as if Korach was saying, and even boasting, “I am already holy and I don’t need to change.” Yet, what the Torah actually says in Leviticus is “YOU WILL BE HOLY, for I, the Eternal your God, am holy.” Holiness is about becoming. It is an ongoing journey. Leaders and people like Korach, Dathan and Abiram thought they had nothing to learn from anyone or from any new experience. Leaders and people like Moses and Aaron see their own imperfections, lament the need to stand firm in the face of overwhelming opposition, and are willing to learn something new to move along the road towards greater effectiveness and even holiness. It is through learning from what we have done wrong and realizing what we do right and well that we become a KAHAL KADOSH, a holy community.
We can view humility and arrogance as two ends of a spectrum, but, lately, I am sad to see them pitted against each other in a seemingly never ending battle. When arrogance is given power, the content of truth narrows to the point of no longer being true at all. The ability to issue a judgment that takes various viewpoints into account in community life, and in legal decisions, loses the possibility of considering mitigating circumstances and applying even a measure of mercy and empathy to the people involved in a particular situation. It can, I believe, lead to a loss of the human decency we so sorely need in order to promote the well-being of our fellow community members.
Judaism teaches that, sometimes, we can find holiness even in conflict. We read in Pirkei Avot: “Every controversy that is in the name of Heaven shall, in the end, lead to a permanent result, but every controversy that is not in the name of Heaven shall not lead to a permanent result. Which controversy was in the name of Heaven? The controversy of Hillel and Shammai. And which was not in the name of Heaven? The controversy of Korach and all his company.”
The Talmud noted that most of the disputes between Hillel and Shammai were decided in favor of the house of Hillel because the students of Hillel were kindly and modest, they studied their own rulings AND those of the house of Shammai, and they were even so [humble] as to mention the perspectives of the house of Shammai before stating their own.”
In our conversations, in our controversies, and even in the midst of our polarized times, may humility, coupled with confidence and forthrightness in sharing and practicing our cherished values, guide us to the promised land of understanding and equality, a place where we will know wholeness, holiness, and peace.
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