the way of peace

I gave this d’var Torah on July 1, 2016, in East Jerusalem as part of an Encounter program. 

When Erica called me earlier this week to ask me to give the d’var Torah today, I answered the phone from Nabi Saleh, a small village in the West Bank about 30 minutes northwest of Ramallah. I was standing on the rooftop deck of an unfinished and abandoned mansion, looking out over a vast landscape that included a nearby settlement, while a 20-year-old boy pointed to different houses belonging to friends and family: “This one is under demolition order, and this one, and this one, and this one . . .” When I asked him what he hopes for the future, he said, “A free Palestine,” and then gestured towards the west: “On a clear day you can see Tel Aviv from here. I’d like to go there someday.”

This week’s parshah, Korach, includes the story of the uprising of the eponymous villain against Moshe and Aharon. Korach challenges their leadership: He, too, is a Levite, and their first cousin — and therefore equally entitled to the priesthood. His charge of nepotism and dramatic protest actions are unsuccessful, to say the least, and he and his followers are either swallowed up by the earth or consumed by a fire.

hollyhocks at ocha in east jerusalem; photo by salem pearce

The Netivot Shalom, also known as the Slonimer Rebbe, a contemporary Hasidic commentator, offers an interesting diagnosis of Korach. I’ll just note that I am excited to share one of his teachings, as he is a favorite of my mentor and the rabbi at the shul at which I am the rabbinic intern. Our learning each week almost always centers on the Rebbe’s Torah commentary, and I’ve missed it this summer. Netivot Shalom means “ways of peace” — an orientation that feels especially relevant today.

The Netivot Shalom says that Korach has too much yeshut, too much sense of his own existence. He notes:

A person who is in the aspect of yesh, “existence,” who takes up space in his own eyes — it seems to him that his fellow is bothering him and standing in his way. Even if the friend has not done any harm to him in any way, because of his trait of yeshut, he has the feeling that his friend is bothering him and taking up his place, and out of this he comes into conflict.

Korach felt that Moshe and Aharon had what he should have. They were occupying his space, standing in his way, bothering him by their very existence — all because he felt too strongly the importance of his own self.

But the way of peace, the Netivot Shalom says, is the breaking down of the ego and the submission to something greater than oneself. Then we can know that no one is standing in our way, that this other person is not bothering us. Then we are at peace in the world.

The Torah makes clear that Korach’s attitude and action had deadly consequences for himself, his fellow mutineers, and for the whole community of Israel, many of whom are later struck down by a plague. But the Talmud alludes also to a different kind of damage that he did to himself. The rabbis puzzle over the strange grammar of the beginning of the parshah, ויקח קרח, “Korach took,” with no direct object. What? What did he take? the rabbis ask. They end up reading the words as an indication that Korach made a bad “purchase” (מקח) for himself. Refusing to step aside, to push our ego to the side, means becoming stuck. The world keeps moving around us, but we can’t join that movement.

Looking out over that vast landscape from the highest point in Nabi Saleh, a tiny village of 600 people, what flickered across my thoughts was, “There’s enough.” In addition to a problem of ego, Korach seems to me to be, not unrelatedly, reacting to a fear of scarcity, that there wasn’t going to be a place for him. But we know from the beginning of Bemidbar that each person was counted in the census, that the tribes were all arranged around the mishkan, and that there were land provisions made for everyone. Korach’s sense of his own importance, combined with erroneous analysis of his own position, leads to the tragedy described in this week’s parshah.

My hope for us today is an orientation of abundance, that we have enough capacity and compassion to hear what is said. That we can put away our own sense of importance and our fear that there is not enough, in order to be moved, even just a little. And so may we all be blessed with the peace that can result from this shift.

Comments

  1. adelmanr says:

    Beautiful Torah, Salem. May you, as a Rabbi, be the conduit for that vision — true to your name. Shalem, Shalom, making space, seeing enough space in the abundance, and helping others see with compassion. Hope we meet soon in Jerusalem where the Oceans of the Universe meet.
    “For Jerusalem is a port city on the Shores of Eternity.” (Yehuda Amichai)
    Let’s connect soon! Rachel

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