Mazal Tov to the Grossman family on the birth of a baby boy this morning. There will be a walkby Shalom Zachor tonight at their home at 4103 Wilkie Way from 10 - 11:30 pm. Entrance to the backyard will be exclusively by way of the gate just to the left as one walks up their driveway on Meadow. Masks should be worn by everyone. Some Mezzonot will be served, with gloves available. R' Grossman will remain his house, facing the backyard. Mrs. Grossman will be with the baby.
Rabbi Feldman's Derasha
Politics makes strange bedfellows, we’re wryly told at least once every four years. But the original basis for that quotation is from a line in Shakespeare, that “misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.” It’s easy to understand why someone would equate politics with misery but it’s the original quote that really gives us insight into the coalition that creates Korach’s rebellion.
Even though they are introduced as a unit working together, there are two foci of the rebellion against Moshe. The first two verses of the Parasha announce that Korach and Datan and Aviram (and On) have risen against Moshe, and they bring along the 250 leaders of the assembly (Nesee’ei Eda). But there are two groupings here, with different reasons to rebel.
It is therefore fitting that they are spread out in two places. We know that they are spread out because Moshe has to deliver messages to them in separate places. In the first instance, he speaks to the 250, who are largely Levi’im, but who are joined by other leaders. His location as he addresses this group is where he is, i.e. in the center of the encampment, next to the Mishkan.
But when he needs to speak to Datan and Aviram he first sends a message and then he physically moves toward them. The messenger was sent to summon Datan and Aviram. Moshe Rabbanu wanted to address the rebellions together. But they rebuffed the messenger and Moshe must go himself to speak to them.
Not surprisingly, The two groups have separate complaints. The Levi’im and other leaders are seeking more of a role in leadership, specifically in terms of what is taking place in the holy center at the Mishkan. In this they are spiritually ambitious, and their polemical point about everyone being “holy” bolsters their claim to carry out the functions that have been granted to the Kohanim.
Datan and Aviram’s claim, on the other hand, is about Moshe’s failure to deliver the goods. Coming on the heels of the spies, they now know that there will be no quick entry into Eretz Yisrael. They refer to Egypt, ironically, as a place flowing with milk and honey, instead of Eretz Yisrael. Their focus is on physical goals and rewards and not on serving in the Mishkan.
With such disparate goals, it is hard to see what brings the two groups together at all. Indeed, many commentators see both groups as united in little more than their timing. Moshe Rabbenu has been lowered in status by the disaster of the spies. That is the misery that brings together strange bedfellows. If it’s time to start a grassroots rebellion, this is as good a time as any, when so many are in misery. At the same time, one can understand why Moshe wants to address everyone in the same place. He wants to contain the spread of complaints, but also to show the incoherence of the two messages.
Moshe Rabbenu’s reaction throughout this episode is dramatically different than his reaction to the many episodes of discontent in the book of Bamidbar. He does not Daven for forgiveness for the rebels. On the contrary, he seeks the most dramatic punishment because he knows that incoherence alone will not necessarily stop the rebellion. If misery has brought them together, merely pointing out the weakness of debate points will not be sufficient to stifle them.
Although it is linked by Rashi (and others) to the aftermath of the spies, there is something to the lack of a timestamp in the Parasha. This alliance of differing grievances and differing goals is a timeless phenomenon. It is the stuff of rebellion and, when matched with misery, the coherence of the message is not an impediment.
In the early 60s, before the decade turned acridly bitter in the wake of assassinations and disillusionment about the Vietnam War, there was already a restlessness among those who were uncomfortable with the conformity of the post-war era. There was little to unite people in their restlessness, except of course the struggle in the South against Jim Crow laws and segregation in the schools. But the nation had not yet focused its sights on correcting those problems; the Kennedy administration had not done much in its first two years to address them. There was, however, already an anthem among the restless, a song that struck a common chord. It was “Blowin’ in the Wind,” and the most interesting thing to point out about it is that it’s really not a protest song at all. At the time, Bob Dylan even resisted having it characterized as being about anything in terms of a program. “That’s what I really think,” he said, “the answer’s really just in the wind.” But that doesn’t stop the disenchanted, the miserable. And it won’t stop them, because incoherence alone is not the problem. It is the misery, and ending that has to be the focus.
Congregation Emek Beracha 4102 El Camino Real Palo Alto, CA 94306
