Rabbi's Derasha

The Parasha has no real date stamp.  Rashi, via the Midrash I will mention soon, connects it to the end of last week’s Parasha.  That would mean the rebellion comes right after the episode of the spies during the second year since the exodus.  But the verses themselves give no hint.  

There is, on the other hand, circumstantial evidence about where it fits.  Close to the beginning of next week’s Parasha, we skip 38 years forward to the last year in the desert.  That would imply that we are still before that jump.  There are 10 Parashiot in the book of Bamidbar, so we can split the Sefer into two even parts.  This is the last of the first five Parashiot, which are devoted to the setbacks during the second year.  Then there will be five Parashiot devoted to preparing for the delayed entrance to the land.   

If this is true, the timing of Korach’s rebellion makes sense.  He has felt excluded for a while but his resentment emerges now because Moshe Rabenu is vulnerable.  Frustration runs high and directing the blame at Moshe is an easy reaction.

So this is the Parasha about what happens amidst general disintegration. I want to highlight two things that occur here.  The first is well-known in connection to Korach: Machloket.  We like to argue and we encourage disagreement but this is Machloket for its own sake.  This is the nation devouring itself, like cannibals.  When people are arguing not to clarify the truth but to destabilize public institutions, we have reached the point of social disintegration.     

The second thing we see in a time of disintegration is that humor becomes more than a seasoning for life.  It becomes, rather, the main course.  The Midrash says that Korach’s attack on Moshe Rabenu was cloaked in Letzanut, in scoffing wise-cracks.  He held up a Mezzuza and asked if a library requires one as well.  That is, if a room requires a reminder of Hashem, what about a room full of holy books?  Similarly, if Tzitzit require a blue thread, what if the whole garment is made out of blue?   

There is of course a place for humor.  Anything related to Simcha is an essential part of life.  But it plays a supporting role.  It’s not supposed to be the main act.  The Talmud speaks of the importance of opening even a class in Gemora with humor.  Not like in a Derasha where it’s entertainment but because laughter is an expansive expression of emotion and can open up ways of thinking that were closed before.  

But when things are disintegrating, humor becomes dominant. The most harrowing description of an era of disintegration is in the Mishna at the end of Tractate Sota.  One institution after another fails.  Truth disappears.  Chutzpa expands.  This is referred to as Ikvasa D’Mishicha, which is often translated as the time of the “footsteps of the Messiah.”  The word here for “foot” is Ekev, which is actually the heel.  The heel is viewed in Halacha as barely alive.  It is so tough, so hard, it is like dead meat.  But the Vilna Gaon used to point out that the tough heel is vulnerable to one thing: it can be effectively tickled.  It can generate silly, purposeless laughter.     

Springtime in America this year looked somewhat like the 60s.  A smart Jew 200 years ago said that history sometimes repeats itself, but the first time as tragedy and the second time as farce.  In the 60s, people marching against the war were people with draft cards in their pockets.  There was something at stake, there was skin in the game.  People were marching this Spring about events 7000 miles away in which they have no stake whatsoever.  They can’t recite the history; they can’t even identify relevant geographical markers.  

But it’s not just adolescents who are given to farce.  During the Vietnam war, President Lyndon Johnson famously said that he knew he lost American public opinion when he lost the support of Walter Cronkite, a journalist who never smiled let alone laughed.  But now what would a politician say?  He would say that he knew he was out of touch if he lost Jon Stewart, or Dave Chappelle.  That’s an era marked by disintegration.

I have an old friend who pointed out to me a week ago something else in that Mishna.   It’s usually overlooked but the Mishna says that in the time of turmoil being described, HaGalil Yecharev, the Galil will be destroyed.  We usually translate that as “destroyed,” but the word “Cherev” also means to be dried out.  In other words, the Galil will wither, as it is now, when everyone’s evacuated.  It’s horrible to consider.

The Parasha ends with a reassertion of the authority of the Kohanim.  To resist disintegration, institutions must re-emerge and re-assert themselves as worthy of loyalty.  Machloket must go back to its clarifying function and humor to its supporting role.