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The Glue that Holds Us Together

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin As Bnei Israel encamped near the borders of the Promised Land, two tribes, Gad and Reuven, approached Moshe to see if they could inherit the lands of the Transjordan instead of on the western side of the Jordan River. After seeing their pure intentions, Moshe acquiesced, and granted Gad and Reuven the lush lands and pastures of the Transjordan. Then Moshe did something completely unexpected. Not only did he award this property to Gad and Reuven; he also gave a portion to half of the tribe of Menashe (32:33). The Menashe tribe is not listed as part of the group who had petitioned Moshe for this land (from 32:2 and onward). Why did Moshe choose to give this property to them if they hadn’t asked for it? Furthermore, why split up the tribe of Menashe, leaving half of them on one side of the Jordan, and the other half on the other? Did the Menashe clan present a threat or commit some crime to warrant being split up? Perhaps we should look at Menashe from a different angle. Seeing that the Jewish people were now going to be divided geographically by a river that could potentially splinter the Jewish people, Moshe wanted to create some kind of glue which, despite the geographic divide, would keep all twelve tribes together and cohesive. He chose one tribe which he felt would be most propitious for this task of keeping all the Jews together, and so divided them across both sides of the Jordan to act as that glue that would hold the two parts of Bnei Israel together.

Menashe the Interpreter

But why Menashe? What’s so special about this tribe? I believe that the answer lies in looking back at the original story of Yoseph and his first-born son, Menashe. The Torah relates that when the brothers first came to Yoseph in Egypt to acquire provisions, Yoseph pretended to be an Egyptian. He set up an interpreter, a “Melitz (מליץ),” to translate their Hebrew into Egyptian (Gen. 42:23). The Midrash (quoted by Rashi) makes a point of identifying this interpreter, standing between Yoseph and his brothers, as Menashe. This supports our claim that the original Menashe had something about him that could hold the family together. He was the “go-between” in a literal sense between Yoseph and his brothers. We also note that the word “Melitz” doesn’t just mean an interpreter, but also means an advocate (this is why we say about a family member who has passed away, “May he/she be a “Melitz yosher,” a proper advocate, for the family). What personality trait did Menashe possess? Let us look at his name. Yoseph named his first-born Menashe, because, as the Torah quotes him (Gen. 41:51): “כִּֽי־נַשַּׁ֤נִי אֱלֹהִים֙ אֶת־כָּל־עֲמָלִ֔י וְאֵ֖ת כָּל־בֵּ֥ית אָבִֽי:” – “For Elokim has allowed me to forget my entire travail and the whole household of my father.” What was Yoseph saying? Is it virtuous to forget your family?! Yoseph was reflecting on all of his torment at the hands of his brothers. He must have harbored bitterness and resentment. But now, after having been liberated from prison, rising to the top of Egyptian society and building his own family, he was able to “let go” of the past and move on. He could forego all of his resentments after seeing how everything had turned out for the best.

Credit Where Credit is Due

Furthermore, Rav S.R. Hirsch understands the word “נַשַּׁ֤נִי” in the verse as more than just Hashem allowing Yoseph to “forget.” The Hebrew word derives from “נשה”, which, in other biblical contexts, means a creditor. That is, Yoseph was reflecting upon how, although in the past he had viewed his brothers as having been a liability, his destiny in Egypt demonstrated that in reality, they had provided him a great “credit” and benefit instead. Had it not been for them, he never would have ended up as the viceroy of Egypt. The point is that Menashe possessed this ability to forgive and forget, to move on from the past and to view everything, even the adversities that one has suffered at the hands of others, to be part of the Divine plan and ultimately of benefit to oneself. This is probably the most important trait that one needs in order to be a bridge-builder and reconciler. One has to look past previous offenses and transgressions in order to create reconciliation and peace between two factions. This is why Menashe was chosen to be the tribe to create the bridge between both sides of the Jordan.

Letting Go Of the Baggage

Rabbeinu Bechaye provides a fascinating etymology to the term “בי נשא”. This is a phrase found in some versions of the ketubah, describing how the bride has come from her parents’ home. He suggests that this term is of the same root as the name Menashe, meaning to forget. When a man and woman get married, they need to put a certain amount of their past behind them in order to build a present and future with their spouse. This is certainly so when dealing with family and other loved ones. We must learn to put aside the acrimony and “baggage” of the past in order to properly build a healthy present and future. I would suggest that there is no greater lesson for today, as we embark on the Nine Days of Av leading up to Tish’a B’Av. Let’s learn from the tribe of Menashe to be bridge-builders. Hopefully, with these lessons taken to heart, we can rebuild the Temple in time for Tish’a B’Av. May we see it, bb”a.

Seeing the Value in Tzelafchad’s Daughters and Ourselves

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin The daughters of Tzelafchad showed their great love and yearning for the Land of Israel by requesting an inheritance for their family of only daughters with no male heirs. After Moshe brought their petition to God, Hashem instructed him that for all time, whenever a man dies with only daughters, his daughters inherit his estate. So, too, the daughters of Tzelafchad were entitled to inherit their father’s portion in the Land. Immediately after this narrative, the Torah jumps to a dialogue between Hashem and Moshe (27:12): “עֲלֵה אֶל־הַר הָעֲבָרִים הַזֶּה” – “Ascend this mountain of the ‘Avarim (lit., the two sides).” You will be able to see the Land, but instead of entering the Land, you will die atop the mountain, because of your sin with the water at Mei Merivah (from Parshat Chukat). Certainly, God is not cruel. Why, after instructing Moshe to bring the good tidings to Tzelafchad’s daughters about their award of a portion in the Land, did Hashem remind Moshe that he would NOT enter the Land because of his sin? Isn’t that just rubbing salt in the wound? Rashi is sensitive to this question, and explains that because Hashem had just instructed Moshe to award Tzelafchad’s daughters a portion in Eretz Israel, Moshe made an assumption: since he had been the messenger to award them land, perhaps he’d be able to enter the Land in order to personally fulfill this charge. Hashem had to disabuse Moshe of any false impression, and therefore reminded him that he would, in fact, not be able to enter the Land. Rashi’s explanation is fine, although some commentaries question why Moshe jumped to the assumption that just because he was delivering good news to the daughters, this signaled that he, too, might gain entry into the Land. Let us look a bit deeper and note something curious about the Torah’s text in the Tzelafchad’s daughters narrative.

The Letter "nun" - The Loneliest Number

After Tzelafchad’s daughters made their request, the Torah states (27:5): “וַיַּקְרֵב מֹשֶׁה אֶת־מִשְׁפָּטָן לִפְנֵי יְקֹוָק” – “Moshe brought their judgment before God.” In the Torah scroll, the letter “ן” is written larger than all the other letters. The commentaries try to understand the reason for this. What else do we know about the letter “nun”? We say the Ashrei prayer daily, which is written as an acrostic, starting with a line that begins with “aleph,” and ending with a line that begins with “tav.” The Talmud (TB Berachos 4b) notes that only one letter is not represented in this acrostic psalm, the letter “nun.” Why is the “nun” excluded? The Maharal explains that the letter is unique in that when you line up all the Hebrew letters, including the “מנצפך” double letters, you end up with 27 letters of the aleph-bet. The 14th letter, the one letter in the very center, is the letter “nun,” making it the “odd man out,” so to speak. Furthermore, “nun” is 50 in gematria (numerology), which, when dealing with a decimal numerical system, can only be added to itself to arrive at the completion of the series, 100. That is, the letter “nun” represents a solitary, lonely letter, that doesn’t have any companions other than itself (If, as the old song goes, “One is the loneliest number,” then “nun” is the loneliest letter). Ashrei is a prayer of Divine support and strength, and accordingly the letter “nun” which represents being alone without any support is the opposite of what Ashrei is meant to convey. This prayer instead affirms that we are always together with Hashem, and as a result we’ll always be provided for and protected. Perhaps the daughters of Tzelafchad were trying to communicate that they knew that they were “loners.” They had no husbands and no children, and from a societal perspective, some might view them as having little independent worth. No one was supporting them or strengthening them; why should they receive a portion in the Land if they wouldn’t have the power or communal clout to properly build and cultivate their portion of land?

Out With the Old, In With the New

When they made their petition, Moshe pondered the situation, not knowing how to respond. On the one hand, it would be tragic for an entire family to be denied a portion of the Land. On the other hand, these women lacked the resources to properly maintain and develop their property on their own. As single women, how would they fend for themselves? Was it indeed appropriate for these people on the lower echelons of Jewish society to receive a portion of the Holy Land? Moshe genuinely didn’t know what to do, and so he presented this “shaila” of these loners to God. In other words, he brought the “משפט” of “ן” (“משפט-ן”) before Hashem. As the commentaries note, Moshe was not denied entry in Eretz Israel as a punishment per se, but rather because his whole approach to his children, Bnei Israel, was “old school” and not what they needed to successfully conquer the Land. In order for the Jewish people to succeed, they would need to disperse from each other and learn how to gain a sense of individual personhood and independence. While in the desert, our national persona was front and center, and each individual’s persona was all but invisible. But as we were about to enter the Land, it would be necessary for individuals to emerge as local and municipal leaders, and strong individual personalities would perforce emerge. Moshe was unaccustomed to this kind of frontier ruggedness that would emerge from individuals entering the Land. He still viewed his children as “sheep,” as he called them in our parsha (27:17).

Why Joshua And Not Moshe?

The whole reason why Moshe doubted the worthiness of Tzelafchad’s daughters, the reason why he presented their question to God and couldn’t answer them himself, is because he failed to see them as individuals, capable of taking the mantle of leadership and ownership of their property. Viewing them as just part of a larger flock, Moshe saw them as the weakest societal link. That’s what made him the wrong person to help the Jews settle this new frontier. They instead needed a leader like Joshua, who was a “man with spirit in him” (27:18). That is, because he was a unique individual with a healthy sense of ego, he was able to see each individual as a powerful and unique person, who could accomplish great things independent of the collective. Hashem’s reminder to Moshe that he could not enter Israel, and that he had to stand at the mountain of “two sides,” was reminding Moshe about his leadership style. You were great for “this side,” when the Jews were just finding themselves and needed to learn the Torah from you, their strong leader who knew how to lead a flock. But now that they’re going to the “other side,” they’ll need someone new, someone who could be approached by Tzelafchad’s daughters, who would immediately see their great grit and determination, and would unhesitatingly grant them a portion in the Land of Israel. This is why this interchange between God and Moshe takes place right after the story of Tzelafchad’s daughters, allowing Moshe to better understand that he was being denied entry NOT because Hashem was angry with him, but because the Jewish people needed a new leader for their next chapter of growth.

Finding the Individual in Each of Us

Entering the Three Weeks, we’re meant to rectify the animus that lingers within us. We sometimes fail to see the value in others, because we scrutinize only their “social worth.” Someone may be single, divorced, widowed, too young, too old, look different from the norm, dress differently from others, speak differently, or in other ways may not match up to what a community deems to be of value. These people may be invisible to us because we fail to see them as individuals, and base their worth only on their social standing. We also might superimpose a view of them when they were much younger and more immature, and not see them for who they are today. But if we truly seek to move forward and change for the better, we should try and see every single person standing before us as someone with infinite value because of their holy neshama, created in God’s image. Let’s not misjudge others in the room. The overlooked are often the ones who have the most to contribute and we’d only stand to enrich ourselves by seeing them in a different light. May our efforts at accepting others without prejudgment lead to our Redemption by the end of this season, bb”a.

You Can’t Beat the System

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, this week Balak is the Parsha in Israel and Chukat-Balak in the Diaspora. For the Parshat Chukat dvar Torah please .

Why Do We Need the Backstory

Although the story of Balaam and his attempt to curse the Jewish people contains multiple parts, we can boil the story down to two main sections: The first half of the story is the precursor and setup for the main event. It’s all about how Balaam had to be cajoled by Balak and his men to curse Bnei Israel, how he eventually traveled towards the Israelite camp – despite some bumps and obstacles along the road – and finally, how he prepared to curse them by constructing altars in an attempt to channel spiritual forces. The second part of the story is really the main event: the narrative of the actual words that Balaam pronounced. He attempted to curse Bnei Israel multiple times, but each time, words of blessing came out instead. We certainly understand why the second part of the story is recorded in the Torah. Some of the most important and poignant pronouncements about the special character of the Jewish people and our relationship to Hashem are recorded in this section. But why is Balaam’s journey toward his destination so important as to occupy the entire first half of the parsha? Let’s first note something about Balaam that is not clearly delineated in our text. Balaam was renowned as a powerful sorcerer. In fact, in recapping the story of Balaam and how he met his demise, the book of Joshua (13:22) identifies Balaam as “Balaam the sorcerer.” Furthermore, the Torah tells us that when Balak’s men came to greet Balaam they had (22:7) “קְסָמִים בְּיָדָם,” sorcerer’s tools with them. According to Rashi and others, they knew that Balaam was a sorcerer, and so they brought along some of his tools of the trade so that he’d be able to depart with them immediately without delay, and curse the Jews.

Balaam Not New to the Scene

Additionally, there are some extremely rich and fanciful Midrashim about Balaam. The Midrash states that when Moshe and Aharon first came to Pharaoh’s court demanding that he free the Jews, Balaam was one of those unnamed chief magicians present (the “חרטומי מצרים”, as in Ex. 7:11). Together with his two sons, Jannes and Jambres, Balaam succeeded in replicating many of the early miracles that Moshe performed in Egypt, including turning staffs into serpents. The end of our parsha depicts how the Midianite women seduced Jewish men to sin, which caused thousands of men to die in a plague. This devious tactic of getting Jews to sin was concocted by Balaam. Perhaps the most fantastical imagery of sorcery depicted by the Midrash (see Rashi to 31:6) is when Balaam was being pursued by Pinchas in order to avenge the deaths that Balaam had caused. Balaam knew how to fly by means of sorcery, and so he took flight into the clouds in order to escape being captured. Pinchas had a trick or two up his sleeve as well. He flashed the Kohen Gadol’s “Tzitz,” the forehead plate, up at Balaam. One look at the Tzitz caused Balaam’s magic to fail, and he fell to the earth. The Zohar relates that even after Balaam was captured, the Jewish leaders tried all types of weapons to kill Balaam, but his magic was so strong that no matter how much they tried, he wouldn’t die! Pinchas gave a special magic sword to Tzalya from the tribe of Dan. On each side of the sword was engraved the image of a serpent, and it was only through this sword that Balaam was able to be finally executed (Balaam’s death by the sword is recorded in Num. 31:8).

A New Test Upon Entering the Land

What are we to make of all this? I believe that Chazal are communicating to us why Balaam came into the lives of the Jewish people right before they were to enter Eretz Israel. When a person stands at the precipice of a truly formidable new chapter of his life, where one will have to work hard, and there is a chance that they may fail in their new endeavor, all kinds of negative thoughts come into one’s head. Besides fearing failure, a person may be tempted to try any shortcut he can in order to succeed. Instead of the hard work I know it will take in order to succeed, maybe I can figure out an angle to make myself look good, or figure out some way how to cheat the system, so that I’ll emerge with the same outcome without having to put in all that work. Hashem wanted the Jewish people to know: while there are people like that in the world, that’s not what I expect of you. As Balaam himself remarked about the Jewish people (23:23) “כִּי לֹא־נַחַשׁ בְּיַעֲקֹב וְלֹא־קֶסֶם בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל” – “There is no divination in Jacob, no sorcery in Israel.” That is, despite the temptation to imitate those who look for easy shortcuts, the Jewish people put in an honest day’s work instead. We don’t seek the easy way out or try to beat the system. Especially when we were about to enter the Promised Land, when we would face formidable enemies and would have to be diligent in our efforts, this was an important message for our people to hear. The Midrashim that depict Balaam as the snake-associated sorcerer who knows how to fly are cuing us into the personality of Balaam. Here was a man who was always looking for an angle of how to beat the system. Human flight in particular was a common motif in ancient and medieval mythological literature. Many such stories, like that of the Greek legend of Icarus, describe a tragic hero who used flight in an attempt to transcend the normal constraints placed upon a person who wishes to succeed. When the individual finds the normal path to success too slow and laborious, he “takes flight” and tries to circumvent the normal path, which usually ends with tragic results.

Putting in An Honest Day's Work

This is the story of Balaam, and it is a cautionary tale to the Jewish people: Stop trying to beat the system. You won’t be able to conquer Eretz Israel through magic or other means that haven’t been endorsed by Hashem. The only way to succeed is to embrace the Torah and its prescriptions for success. Do the mitzvot, fear G-d, deal honestly in your business affairs, put in an honest day’s work, and you will do just fine. It may not be as easy, flashy, or impressive as other methods, but in the end it is the only means to true success. I believe that this is why so much space is devoted to Balaam’s journey. He was such a twisted personality, always trying to figure out a new angle. He tried it with Balak’s men, and he tried it with the angel that he encountered on the road with his talking donkey. In these brief vignettes leading up to the actual blessings uttered by Balaam, we get a glimpse of why he was such a tragic figure who was doomed to failure. His constant efforts at trying to buck the system would inevitably cause his tragic downfall. The Jewish community has its share of “shvitzers,” a term for ambitious young men who seek to make a quick buck by figuring out an angle to beat the system. Unfortunately, there are too many stories of members of our faith who failed in these efforts, and also the fallout to others who got caught up in these schemes. The story of Balaam reminds us that there is no way to circumvent Hashem’s intended path for each and every one of us. You may think you can slip through like a slithering serpent, or fly above the road when everyone else is walking down it. But in the end, Hashem runs the world and even the greatest sleight of hand will eventually catch up with you. May we succeed in proceeding in a straight line, putting one foot in front of the other, and putting in one honest day’s work after another, toward success in our professional and spiritual lives. May our efforts bring us admiration from both G-d and men. May this admirable trait of the Jewish people bring us to Redemption, bb”a.

Instead of Knocking Down, Build People Up

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, Chukat is the Parsha this week in Israel and next week in the Diaspora. For Parshat Korach (this week in the Diaspora) please click here.

Miriam, Mei Merivah & Esav

Parshas Chukas picks up at the 40th year of the Jews’ sojourn in the desert (Ibn Ezra). The nation is getting very close to the end of their journey, and we read in these final parshios of Bamidbar some of the growing pains involved in getting ready for the nation’s imminent entry into Eretz Israel. After Miriam dies, the events of Mei Merivah, where Moshe drew water from the rock, transpire (ch. 20). While unclear from the passages, Moshe and Aharon did something very wrong in Hashem’s view, and were therefore punished with being denied entry into the Promised Land. Immediately after the story of Mei Merivah, we read that Moshe sent emissaries from Kadesh, where the Jews were encamped, to the King of Edom, asking him for passage through his land (20:14). The King of Edom flatly refused and even threatened war if the Jews would attempt to tread on his soil. Because Edom were the descendants of Esav, our mishpacha, Hashem had instructed Moshe (as detailed in Deut. 2:2-6) that we could not provoke or in any way intimidate Esav’s descendants, and so we had to retreat. Our question is: why are these two stories connected? Why does the Torah connect the story of Moshe’s and Aharon’s failure at Mei Merivah to the story of having to circumvent Esav’s land? The Midrash (Bamidbar Rabbah 19:15) answers this question by stating that this underscores Moshe’s piety, with a parable: Revuen entrusts his friend Shimon to invest his life savings. Shimon ends up losing all of Reuven’s money. The normal reaction of Reuven would be to seek to avoid Shimon and have nothing to do with him. But Moshe was different; even though he was punished because of the Jewish people, this didn’t stop him from loving them and wishing to take care of them. Even though he could not enter Eretz Israel, this would not stop him from trying to get them there as quickly and directly as possible, even if it meant ingratiating himself to the hostile Edomites. This Midrash is a beautiful message which contains a valuable lesson in leadership.

The Impact of Mei Merivah on the People

We offer a different possible connection. We can learn the nature of Moshe’s and Aharon’s sin by looking at the aftereffects and how the sin impacted Bnei Israel. Let’s examine the passages carefully: The story starts with “Moshe” first sending a message via proxies (20:17): “Let us pass through your land; we will not pass through field or vineyard, nor will we drink any well water. We will only walk on the king’s road. We will not veer to the right or left until after we pass through your land.” King of Edom refuses, saying (20:18), “You will not pass through me, lest I come out against you with the sword.” But then, the story continues with not “Moshe,” but this time “Bnei Israel” sending a second petition (20:19): “Bnei Israel said to him: Let us pass through your back roads. If we drink any of your water, we’ll pay for it. It’s no big deal: I’ll just pass through by foot.” Why the second request? And, why in the first request did Moshe insist that they wouldn’t drink any water, but in the second request Bnei Israel said that whatever water they’d drink they’d pay for? Here is where we learn about the demoralizing effect upon the people at Mei Merivah. Hashem had instructed Moshe to speak to the rock and it would miraculously flow its water. This was meant to be a lesson to the Jewish people, that at this stage of their development and maturation, now in their 40th year, they had truly grown up. Just as a mature child should be reasoned with and not brow-beaten, the Jews were now fully developed and ready to enter the Promised Land. But instead, Moshe struck the rock. This gave the Jewish people the false impression that they were still childlike and undeveloped. This made them feel unprepared and unconfident about their future. They weren’t even sure how long the water would continue to flow from the rock.

Insecurity in Bnei Yisrael

Moshe made his request on behalf of the princely Jewish people: “Let us pass through your land. We are the people of miracles and do not require any of your water, since we’ll be traveling with our own miraculous water supply. We are an exalted nation, who should only travel on the ‘King’s road,’ the path for sophisticates and aristocrats.” When the King of Edom refused, the rest of Bnei Israel thought that maybe if they made a more humble request they’d stand a better chance. They didn’t esteem themselves in the same way as Moshe had portrayed them. They therefore requested, “At least grant us passage through your back roads. We might need water on the way (since we’re not confident that our miraculous water supply will hold out), but we promise to pay for whatever we take. It’s no big deal to let a humble group such as ours walk through in this way!” Sensing their lack of confidence in that second request, the King of Edom not only threatened them, but this time actually came out with an army, ready to attack. It was this weakness and lack of confidence that Moshe had signaled to the Jewish people which made it impossible for him to lead them into and conquer the Land, since he still saw the nation as his child-like students. Bnei Israel needed a new leader who would instill within them the confidence they needed to be great conquerors. This is why the story of Mei Merivah precedes our story; it is to demonstrate why Hashem was so harsh with Moshe and Aharon in denying them entry in Eretz Israel. Here is a concrete example of how their action at Mei Merivah left the people insecure and unconfident.

Confidence and Lack of

The Torah provides us with a very tangible lesson in how to build up our children and others under our influence. If we signal to them that we lack confidence in them, they will lack confidence in themselves. We should try our best to build our children up and express to them our confidence in their abilities. When children and young adults have low self-esteem, they feel unloved and unhappy with themselves. They fear taking risks, which is necessary for achieving excellence. We should instead give them a message of, “You can do it!” and then step aside so that they have the space to spread their wings. Some have suggested that we live in an over-coddling age, where our children are smothered by their parents. They become “snowflakes” who are easily hurt and cannot tolerate confrontation and dissenting ideas. This not only engenders intolerance; it also signals to our children that we don’t have the confidence that they can handle adversity and take on formidable situations in life. There is no greater disservice to our children than making them feel that they can’t handle the world on their own. May our children realize the confidence they need to be successful adults and successful servants of G-d. May we all have the confidence in ourselves and our people to realize together the Redemption, bb”a.

We’re All Responsible for Each Other

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, Korach is the Parsha this week in Israel and next week in the Diaspora. For Parshat Shelach (this week in the Diaspora) please . We’re all familiar with the Talmudic aphorism (TB Shavuos 39a), “כל ישראל ערבים זה בזה” – All Israel are responsible for each other. This ‘Arevut, or acceptance of responsibility for each other’s behavior, is embedded within several verses of the Torah. An example of just how far this communal responsibility goes can be found in the story of ‘Achan (Joshua ch. 7). When destroying the city of Jericho, Joshua declared that all the contents of the city were to be dedicated to Hashem, and that no one was permitted to take any of the spoils for themselves. Scripture (7:1) relates that “The children of Israel violated the ban on the spoils,” but in reality, only one man, ‘Achan, secretly took some of the spoils for himself. As a result, Hashem punished the entire nation. The next battle the army fought suffered 36 casualties as a result. When asked why this happened, Hashem responded to Joshua, “Israel has sinned, and violated my covenant” by taking the spoils.

Communal Responsibility

This idea of communal responsibility seems deeply ingrained within our people. That is why it is so strange to encounter a passage where the leaders of Israel imply the opposite. After Korach gathered a group of 250 men with censor pans to rebel against the leadership, Hashem told Moshe and Aharon that they should separate from the people so that He might destroy them (16:21). Moshe and Aharon fell on their faces, and beseeched Hashem to change his mind, saying (16:22): אֵל אֱלֹהֵי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל־בָּשָׂר הָאִישׁ אֶחָד יֶחֱטָא וְעַל כָּל־הָעֵדָה תִּקְצֹף Lord! The G-d who knows the thoughts of all flesh. Shall one man sin and You become wrathful against the whole congregation!? How do we make sense of this challenge? After all, Hashem was only proposing that which was already made known, that in Judaism, we are responsible for each other! If Korach and his men were sinning, then the rest of the community should have to bear some level of responsibility. Why were they arguing to the contrary? What’s even more astonishing is a Midrash which discusses this idea of ‘Arevut. The Midrash quotes our verse, “Shall one man sin,” etc., but instead of reading it as a rhetorical question, the Midrash reads it as a statement of fact: “When one man sins, You, Hashem, become wrathful against the whole congregation.” It then offers a parable to demonstrate the point: A group of people are all sitting in a boat. One man pulls out a drill and starts drilling a hole beneath him. His friends say, “What are you doing?!” He responds, “What do you care? I’m just drilling beneath my own seat!” They justifiably respond that by drilling a hole underneath his seat, he will sink the entire boat. How can the Midrash take a verse which argues against communal responsibility and use it to support that very value?!

Collective Punishment

I asked my two teenaged sons if they could help me answer the question. I posed the following to them: Let’s say one of your classmates in yeshiva commits some kind of infraction. Under what circumstances would you feel it fair for the entire yeshiva to be punished for that action, and under what circumstances would you feel that the sole perpetrator should be singled out for retribution? They answered that it depended on the type of crime committed. If the young man did something that was so out of character from the rest of the yeshiva, the yeshiva had done nothing to contribute to this person’s behavior, and the person’s behavior is not representative of the yeshiva, then it was not fair to punish the rest of the yeshiva. If, for example, the boy was caught in a night club in Tel Aviv, sans kippah, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, this would not be a case of ruining the yeshiva’s reputation and the young man should be expelled and the rest of the yeshiva left alone. But if the young man’s behavior is in some way reflective of a certain character flaw that may exist within others in the yeshiva, and if this person’s action is a stain on the entire yeshiva, it would be fair for everyone in the yeshiva to bear responsibility. Let’s say, for example, the young man went to Ben Yehuda St. with his yeshiva garb and then started smoking, drinking, and fraternizing with girls. This flagrant and open behavior indicates that there’s something amiss within the yeshiva culture, and the whole yeshiva would have to be disciplined, not just the young man in question.

One Bad Apple

Their response was helpful to me, in that it suggests that sometimes collective punishment is fair, and sometimes it’s not. In the case of ‘Achan, we’d surmise that he was doing something that was on the mind of a lot of people. His action did not occur in a vacuum, and it also reflected badly on the rest of the nation. This is why collective punishment was justified in that situation. Moshe and Aharon were arguing to the G-d who is described in the verse as “אֱלֹהֵי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל־בָּשָׂר” - the G-d who knows man’s innermost thoughts. You, Hashem, know that the Jewish people in general were never thinking about an insurrection against us. Korach is a sole bad apple who has incited others through his rhetoric and charm. His crime is not reflective of the true character of the people, and they therefore do not deserve to be punished. It would seem to me that there’s one more distinction to be made in our story. In other cases where collective punishment is doled out against the people, the leaders weren’t warned in advance about G-d’s plan. However, in this case, Hashem notified Moshe and Aharon that He was about to destroy the entire congregation. This was a subtle cue to Moshe and Aharon that they were meant to intercede on behalf of the people (the same can be said of other episodes where Hashem tells Moshe that He’s about to destroy the people, as in the sin of the Golden Calf and the sin of the Spies). This seems to indicate that during this incipient stage of learning about what it means to be a Jew, Hashem was patient with the Jewish people and was willing to extend to them an allowance of making mistakes that could be atoned by the proper corrective actions. Hashem was implying to Moshe: In reality, the entire congregation deserves to be punished. But this is still a foreign concept to this first generation of Jews. Let them know what they deserve, so that in the future if one of them sins, they should know that they will all have to bear responsibility.

Communal Responsibility

In this sense, Moshe and Aharon’s words were both a rhetorical question AND a statement of fact. For this first, innocent generation of early Jews, it was meant rhetorically. They weren’t yet versed in the ways of G-d and communal responsibility, and so it wasn’t fair to collectively punish them. But it was a statement of fact for future generations, who would be more aware of the Torah’s teachings, as well as feel a natural sense of kinship with the rest of their countrymen. This explains how the Midrash could turn Moshe and Aharon’s rhetorical question, “Shall one man sin and You become wrathful against the whole congregation!?” into an affirmative statement. One might with to consider the issue of communal responsibility in light of every shul’s individual culture. If a small group of people speak in shul during tefillah, then it depends on what the synagogue’s culture is to determine whether this is a communal problem or that of individuals. If the behavior is considered normal for that congregation, then there may be something amiss in the entire congregation. If it’s an aberration of the kehillah’s decorum, that’s an entirely different story. It’s really up to all of us, members of our respective kehillot, to make things right. Let’s be mindful of how we can maintain the holiness and decorum of our Mikdash Me’at. May we continue our holy journey together as a community, until we return to the Holy Land and Redemption, bb”a.