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June 14, 2002/Tamuz 4 5762, Vol. 54, No. 39
Korach warns us against complacency
Torah study
DR. NEIL GILLMAN
Korach/Numbers 16:1-18:32
The most fascinating detail in the story of Korach, the arch rebel against Moses' and Aaron's - and implicitly God's - authority occurs after the end of the episode. God commands Eleazar, the kohen (priest), to hammer the fire pans, which the rebels had used to burn their incense, into metal sheets, and apply them as plating on the altar.
Once these pans had been used in the sanctuary, even if they had been used to rebel against God, they had become sacred, and could not simply be disposed of.
But why apply the hammered metal directly on the altar? Why make it immediately visible on one of the most sacred spots in the sanctuary? Why not simply hide the fire pans and obliterate their memory?
The biblical account explains why. They should be placed on the altar as an ot, translated here as a "warning." (Numbers 17:3) This translation imparts a negative spin on the story. They are to be applied on the altar to warn the people never to repeat Korach's rebellion.
The problem is that this Hebrew term ot appears elsewhere in Torah, usually in a positive way. Shabbat is an ot, as is the mark of circumcision, and the rainbow in the Noah story. None of these implies anything as negative as a warning. In all these instances, an ot is a positive, healthy reminder - of creation, and of God's covenants. Here the word ot simply means a sign, or a symbol.
That is why I much prefer the interpretation of Rav Kook, as recorded in "Etz Hayim," the new humash (prayer book) for synagogue use published by the Conservative movement.
Rav Kook suggests that "the holiness of the fire pans symbolizes the necessary role played by skeptics and agnostics in keeping religion honest and healthy." Placing the metal from the pans on the altar was to remind us of the "legitimacy, indeed the potential holiness of the impulse within each of us to rebel against the stagnation and complacency that can infect religion."
Complacency is the problem. Every believer should know that our moments of faith are always interspersed with moments of skepticism. Faith is never a permanent achievement. It is rather a momentary plateau, won at great cost, then lost, then won again, then lost again and won again. There is a grain of skepticism at the heart of every believer, and a grain of faith at the heart of every atheist. That tension is inevitable and ultimately healthy.
This sense of the ambiguities that lie at the heart of faith is echoed in a memorable essay on Holocaust theology by Rabbi Irving Greenberg.
Greenberg refers to Martin Buber's notion of "moment Gods." God may be God only at the moment of our experience of God's presence. Greenberg then expands that into the notion of "moment faith." Faith is a momentary achievement, interspersed by moments of disbelief.
The conventional notion that the alternatives are either the absolute certainty of faith or the equally absolute certainty of skepticism is far too simplistic. Both of these polar options suggest the complacency that Rav Kook warns us against. Most of us hover in the in-between.
In the wake of the Holocaust, can we possibly hope for more?
The metal plating on the altar then is not at all a warning against repeating Korach's sin. It is rather a reminder that our doubts are not only inevitable, but even valuable. In a paradoxical way, then, the story of the so-called arch-rebel, Korach, is a blessing in disguise. The story of Korach's rebellion can serve us as a source of consolation as we struggle with our own disbelief.
Rabbi Neil Gillman is professor of Jewish philosophy at the Jewish Theological Seminary.
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