From: Ohr Somayach <ohr@ohr.edu>
To: weekly@ohr.edu
Subject: Torah Weekly - Korach

* TORAH WEEKLY *
Highlights of the Weekly Torah Portion
Parshat Korach
For the week ending 2 Tammuz 5761 / June 22 & 23, 2001
=====================================

OVERVIEW

Korach, Datan and Aviram, and 250 leaders of Israel rebel
against the authority of Moshe and Aharon. The rebellion
results in their being swallowed by the earth. Many resent
their death, and blame Moshe. Hashem's "anger" is manifest
by a plague which besets the nation, and many thousands
perish. Moshe intercedes once again for the people: He
instructs Aharon to atone for them and the plague stops.
Then Hashem commands that staffs, each inscribed with the
name of one of the tribes, be placed in the Mishkan. In
the morning the staff of Levi, bearing Aharon's name,
sprouts, buds, blossoms and yields ripe almonds. This
provides Divine confirmation that Levi's Tribe is chosen
for Priesthood and verifies Aharon's position as kohen
gadol, High Priest. The specific duties of the levi'im and
kohanim are stated. The kohanim were not to be landowners,
but were to receive their sustenance from the tithes and
other mandated gifts brought by the people. Also taught in
this week's Parsha are laws of the first fruits, redemption
of the firstborn, and other offerings.

=====================================

INSIGHTS

BLUE HEAVEN

"And Korach took..." (16:1)

Nothing is more desired or desirable in this world than
peace. And yet nothing seems more elusive. All people want
peace. Everyone wants to sit under his fig tree, secure
that no one will come and take away his family, his house
or his possessions. And yet almost since the beginning of
time, peace has been the most elusive dream of mankind.
Why is world peace such a difficult, a seemingly
impossible, thing to achieve?

If there's one Hebrew word that everyone knows, it's shalom
- peace. However, shalom has another function in Hebrew:
It is also the Jewish (and Arab) form of greeting.

The Talmud tells us that Shalom is one of G-d's names, and
thus it is forbidden to wish someone "Shalom" in a
bathhouse. Why should we greet each other with "Shalom,"
which is one of G-d's names? Why don't we just say "Hi!"
Shalom means "perfection," "completion." This world is a
creation which is inherently lacking. That's the way it's
meant to be. The whole purpose of this world is to be a
place which strives to arrive beyond itself.

The word for "earth" in Hebrew is aretz which comes from
the root rutz - "to run." This world is always running,
moving towards its completion - but it can never complete
itself. Its completion can only come from outside itself.
It can only come from Above. The word for "Heaven" in
Hebrew is shamayim. This can also be pronounced shamim -
the plural of the word "there." This world is always
"running" to "there" - outside and beyond itself.

This world contains many wonderful things - truth,
kindness, love, mercy - but perfection isn't one of them.
And that is why Hashem's name is Shalom, Perfection.
Hashem is the Perfection of all the lacking of this world.
Only Hashem can bring this world to its ultimate "there."

What does this all have to do with this week's Torah
portion?

The Midrash tells of a bizarre encounter between Moshe and
Korach:

Korach took 250 Jewish leaders and dressed them in four-
cornered garments colored all in techelet blue. They stood
in front of Moshe and asked: "Does a four-cornered garment
all of techelet blue require tzitzit-fringes, or is it
exempt?" Moshe replied "It requires tzitzit." They began
to laugh at him. "If one thread of techelet can exempt a
four-cornered garment of any other color, surely a garment
which is totally techelet blue should surely be able to
exempt itself!

What does this strange sartorial encounter teach us?
Take a look out the window. If the sky is clear, look as
far as you can into the distance. What do you see when you
look to the farthest "there" that can be?

Endless blue.

In Hebrew, that color is called Techelet. Techelet is the
color we see when we look at the world without any outside
interruption, without any object interposed between our
eyes and infinite distance. Techelet is the color of
"there."

Techelet is related to another Hebrew word with an almost
identical spelling. That word is tachlit which means "end"
and "purpose." Techelet is the end of sight, of all
perception. Techelet is seeing all. And it is also its
purpose - its tachlit.

A THREAD OF BLUE

The Torah commands that when wearing a four-cornered
garment we attach four threads to each of its corners.
These threads are called tzitzit. The word tzitzit is
connected to the Hebrew word meaning "to peek" (l'hatzitz).
At what are we peeking when we look at the tzitzit?

Three of the threads of the tzitzit are white, the fourth
is supposed to be the color of techelet. The mitzva of
tzitzit is a mitzva of sight. We have to see them. When we
look at the blue of the tzitzit, we see a reflection of the
blue of the Heavens, the blue of Shamayim, the place of all
the "theres."

THE BLUE AND THE WHITE

Only one of the strands of the tzitzit, however, is blue;
the other three are white.

If the end of all sight is the color blue, the beginning of
all sight is white. Take the three primary colors, red,
green and blue, and paint them on a wheel. Spin the wheel
and what will you see? White. White is the root of all
color, where seeing begins.

White is the beginning of sight; techelet is the end, the
purpose, of sight.

The world view of Korach was: "We have the technology"
within ourselves to perfect the world. We don't need to
run anywhere. This world can be Shamayim; here can be
there.

Korach was the first to make the utopian mistake of
thinking that within humanity is all that is needed to
perfect the world.

Perfection, however, can come only from G-d. Only He who
makes peace in the heights can bring peace to us and all
Israel.

(C) 2001 Ohr Somayach International - All rights reserved.

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To: arutz-7@israelnationalnews.com, arutz-7b@israelnationalnews.com
From: Arutz-7 Editor <netnews@israelnationalnews.com>
Subject: Arutz-7 Op-Ed: THE PARSHA AND THE PEACE PROCESS

THE PARSHA, THE PROCESS AND THE PROMISED LAND

Torah Thoughts Relating To Current Events
by Michael Freund

In This Article:
1. He Meant Well.
2. .Which Still Counts for Something

1. HE MEANT WELL.
This week's Parsha contains one of the most painful episodes in the
Jewish people's wanderings in the desert. Korach, Moshe and Aaron's
cousin, launched a rebellion against Moshe's leadership of the Jewish
people. Using populist rhetoric, Korach drew together 250 of the most
prominent leaders of the generation and sought to undermine Moshe's
standing and authority because he felt entitled to a leadership
position such as High Priest. The Torah tells us, "They gathered
together against Moshe and against Aaron and said to them, `It is too
much for you! For the entire assembly - all of them - are holy and G-d
is among them. Why do you exalt yourselves over the congregation of
G-d?'" (Chap. 16, verse 3).

The question: Why is the Parsha named after Korach if he led a
rebellion against Moshe?

The answer: The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson
(in the book In the Garden of the Torah), cites an explanation which
says that Korach's underlying desire was in essence positive, since he
wished to serve as High Priest and attain a higher spiritual level.
Proponents of this view say the Parsha is named after Korach to
emphasize that everyone has potential for spiritual growth and should
aim to fulfill that potential. But the Rebbe rejects this explanation
as insufficient, noting that while one's intentions may be admirable,
a person is judged primarily on his actions. And the fact is that even
if Korach meant well, he nevertheless sparked a controversy that led
to the deaths of thousands of people. Thus, the Rebbe suggests another
reason for the Parsha's name, saying that Korach's mistake was that he
chose to clash with Moshe and Aaron and thereby weaken Jewish unity.
By naming the Parsha after Korach, the Torah wishes to emphasize that
whereas unity can be complete only when it includes divergent units,
it is essential that those units work in harmony, and not in discord,
as Korach sought to provoke.

The lesson: With the collapse of the Oslo Accords under the weight of
the Palestinian campaign of terror and violence, many people have
finally come to realize the extent of the mistake that Israel made in
1993 when it concluded an agreement with the PLO. It is now clear for
all to see that the goals of the Palestinians have not changed and
that their aim is to wipe Israel off the map. Nevertheless, many
people continue to take a magnanimous view of Oslo's architects. "They
meant well," we are told, "it's just that things did not work out the
way they had planned". But as we saw above, such an argument is simply
beside the point, because it is a person's actions, and the resulting
consequences, that matter - especially when they impact on the lives
of thousands, or even millions, of people. It is not enough to say
that Oslo's patrons meant well. They thrust the State of Israel into
its greatest strategic and diplomatic debacle since its establishment.
Shortly after the signing of the Oslo Accords, a public campaign was
launched by its opponents, urging the government: "Don't Give Them
Rifles", for fear that those very same guns in the hands of the PLO
would one day be turned against Israel. Sadly, such warnings went
unheeded. Just this past week, Yasser Arafat's Fatah faction of the
PLO claimed responsibility for the shooting murder of two Jews in the
territories, and Israel now faces an armed PLO insurrection. It is
worth remembering that when history one day passes judgment on this
period, it will look not so much at what Oslo's planners had in mind,
but rather what they have wrought.

Likewise, Oslo divided the people of Israel like never before. Though
diverging views, as we saw above, can be a positive and invigorating
societal trait, the architects of Oslo unfortunately chose to repeat
Korach's error by widening the rifts in the nation. In the past,
people who opposed Oslo were ridiculed and demonized, sidelined and
scorned. They were compared to Hamas terrorists, labeled "fanatics"
and "obstacles to peace" and treated with contempt. Peaceful
anti-government rallies were brutally dispersed and numerous
right-wing activists were arrested for exercising their democratic
rights. The wounds of divisiveness will take a long time to heal, but
we would do well to learn the lesson from this week's Parsha (Torah
reading): division without strife is a natural and perhaps even
essential part of living in a peaceful society. But division
accompanied by needless strife and delegitimization is a recipe for
disaster.

2. . WHICH STILL COUNTS FOR SOMETHING

Confronting the rebels, Moshe presented them with a challenge, telling
the two sides to gather together the next morning with brass fire-pans
and offer incense on them, with the test being whose offering would be
accepted by G-d. The rebels agreed to the test, with the 250 followers
of Korach each bringing their own offering. The result of the trial
was clear and unambiguous. The Torah tells us, "The earth opened its
mouth and swallowed them and their households, and all the people who
were with Korach and all of the property. A flame came forth from G-d
and consumed the two hundred and fifty men who were offering the
incense" (Numbers: Chap. 16, verses 32, 35). After the rebellion had
been quashed, G-d instructed that "the fire-pans of these sinners
against their souls shall be made into hammered-out sheets as a
covering for the Altar" (Chap. 17, verse 3).

The question: Why did G-d command that the 250 rebels' brass fire pans
be used as a cover for the Altar?

The answer: The Shem MiShmuel (Rabbi Shmuel Bornstein, 1855-1927,
Rebbe of Sochaczev), explains that brass is symbolic of determination
and conviction. Citing sources in the Prophets and the Midrash, the
Shem MiShmuel notes that this character trait, when utilized
carefully, can be positive and beneficial, helping a person to
withstand great difficulties. When left unchecked, however, it can
degenerate into arrogance and inflexibility. Hence, whereas in the
Tabernacle incense was always offered on gold utensils, in this case
brass fire-pans were chosen to determine whether the trait of the 250
men was within reasonable bounds or had strayed into insolence and
haughtiness. G-d's rejection of the offering indicates, of course,
that it was the latter. The 250 men had taken the positive trait of
standing up for what one believes in and unfortunately contaminated it
with their own haughty, self-seeking agenda. Thus, notes the Shem
MiShmuel, once the fire had been doused (symbolizing the removal of
their arrogance), the empty fire-pans (representing the good part of
their characters) were still worthy of merit. They were therefore used
in the Altar, to serve as an eternal reminder to the Jewish people to
preserve their strength of character while avoiding the pitfall of
arrogance and rigidity.

The lesson: Throughout Jewish history, our people have demonstrated an
uncanny ability to survive, powered by an unyielding determination to
cling to their identity even under the harshest of circumstances. The
desire for peace, like the will to survive, is a basic and fundamental
human striving, one that has guided the State of Israel since its
founding. At its root, the pursuit of peace is of course a positive
trait, representing the sacred and noble aspirations of a people that
have known far too much death and destruction. But when the purity of
that pursuit is tainted by personal arrogance and political pomposity,
the result is neither peace nor serenity, as the failure of Oslo has
amply demonstrated. When personal factors enter the equation, such as
the desire for a Nobel Peace Prize or earning a place of honor in the
history books, then naturally the equation changes, as does the
outcome. In criticizing Oslo, however, we must be careful to separate
the two, always bearing in mind that the desire for peace in and of
itself is commendable. The mistake of Oslo's architects was not that
they wanted to bring peace to Israel, but rather the way in which they
went about it, offering concessions they had no right to make and
continuing the process in spite of the widespread opposition that it
generated. Similarly, Korach's followers erred in taking a positive
trait and twisting it to suit their own purposes and agenda. Once that
trait was returned to its pure and natural state, as in the brass
fire-pans, it could take its rightful place on the Altar, where it
would serve the entire nation rather than just one tiny faction.
Likewise, now that Oslo has been invalidated, one can only hope that
the Jewish people will have learned the lesson, retaining its desire
for peace, but tempering that desire with a realistic perspective on
the situation around us.

* * * * *
Michael Freund <parsha_sheet@hotmail.com> is former Deputy Director of
Policy Planning in the Prime Minister's Office during Netanyahu's
term. He is a columnist for the Jerusalem Post and a show host on
Arutz Sheva

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