Devarim: Eichah - How Can This Possibly Be?

by Rav Hillel Gefen, Yeshivat Beit El, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week we will read Eichah three times in different contexts. Coincidence?

The Torah portion this week is Devarim, which begins the book of Deuteronomy and goes until chapter 3, verse 22. The haftarah portion that we will read from the Prophets right afterwards is from the first chapter of Yeshayahu (Isaiah). And a few days later will be the Jewish calendar's saddest day, Tisha B'Av (the ninth day of the month of Av), on which we will read the Book of Lamentations.

All three of them either begin with or include a verse beginning with the word Eichah, which is basically a sorrowful question meaning, "How can it be?"

Our Sages connected the dots among the three of these laments, explaining in the Medrash that three prophets used the word Eichah in their prophecies: Moshe, Yeshayahu, and Yirmiyahu:

Moshe said (Devarim 1,12), "Eichah esa l'vadi, How will I be able to bear [Israel's] burden, responsibility and conflict all by myself?"

Yeshayahu said (Yeshayahu 1,21), "Eichah hay'ta l'zonah, How has the faithful city become a harlot? It used to be full of justice, and now – murderers."

And Yirmiyahu said (Yirmiyahu 1,1), "Eichah yashva vadad, How is it that the city dwells alone?"

The Medrash then quotes R. Levi who says, "This is comparable to an upstanding woman who had three friends: One saw her in her tranquility, one saw her in her debauchery, and one saw her in her disgrace. Similarly, Moshe saw Israel in their glory and tranquility… Yeshayahu saw them in their debauchery … and Yirmiyahu saw them in their disgrace…"

One way of understanding this Medrash is that the Sages are comparing Israel's positive circumstances on their way into the Promised Land to their deterioration before and after the destruction of the Temples and their Exile. As such, Moshe Rabbeinu's "Eichah" actually has a positive meaning: "G-d has increased your numbers and you are now as many as the stars of the sky!" (verse 10); you have grown so much that governing you is a very big job!

This in fact appears to be what the Sages meant when they taught elsewhere (P'tichta, Eicha Rabbati 11): "If you had merited it, you would have [been able to] read Moshe's Eichah [on Tisha B'Av], but now that you have sinned, you read Eichah yashva vadad." This shows that Moshe's Eichah is not a lamentation, but rather words of appreciation.

However, our custom is to read these words of Moshe in the Torah portion in the sad melody generally reserved for Tisha B'Av! This shows that we do not understand them happily.

In truth, the sadness of Moshe's words can also be taken in different ways. It could be that our sadness is a result of comparing the high level that we could have reached to the actual low point at which we find ourselves. But it could also be this:

The Medrash Devarim Rabba (1,10) gives two possibilities as to exactly which period Moshe was referring to when he said here, "And I spoke to you at that time, saying, "How can I lead you by myself." R. Yochanan said it was at the time of Yitro, who told Moshe that "this thing [of judging the nation] is too heavy for you; you are not able to perform it alone" (Sh'mot 18,17-23), and then he advised Moshe to appoint various levels of judges and courts. However, R. Chiyya has another idea, saying that Moshe was actually referring to the period of the Complainers (mit'onenim), when he told G-d, "I am not able to bear all this people alone..." (Bamidbar 11,14-12).

How do these two periods compare? During the time of the Complainers, the need arose to appoint elders to share the leadership with Moshe as a direct result of Israel's low level, because of their complaints and surrender to their desires for meat. It is thus understandable that the issue here was the nation's inability to adapt to the high spiritual level of Moshe Rabbeinu.

On the other hand, R. Yochanan said the period in question was when Moshe accepted Yitro's advice to appoint judges – and this was when Israel was on a high spiritual level. They had come to Moshe in their multitudes to seek G-d, and this led to the need to appoint judges who themselves were on a high level and received their inspiration from Moshe. We know this because the plan was that "they would bring the difficult cases to Moshe" (Sh'mot 18,22). What could be sad about this?

The answer is that even the appointment of the judges at Yitro's suggestion, though a positive act, was not clean of negative influences. The Sfat Emet sees in this a root cause that actually later led to crises in our national life. The very fact that Israel distanced themselves from the close, direct supervision of Moshe, and were made to deal with judges on various levels - this caused the thought that it was possible to send people to spy out the land of Canaan, rather than relying solely on Moshe’s prophecy.

This is why we read Moshe's words here in a tune of mourning – because Moshe is blaming himself as well for the sins of the Jewish people, since his actions led, indirectly, to the Sin of the Spies and others.

From here we learn an important principle in national leadership. Sometimes it happens that a simple action, in which no flaw whatsoever is apparent, contains within it components that are liable to bring about future mishaps. And when it comes to issues of national import and leadership, these mishaps can carry immense significance.

May Hashem turn these days of mourning for our Holy Temples into a period of joy and happiness, of consolation and salvation, and may we merit to see the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the Holy Land together with the entire Nation of Israel.

Pinchas: "The Covenant of Peace:" Truth Alone Doesn't Cut It

by (abridged) Shalom Vasserteil, CEO Tzipcha International, translated by Hillel Fendel.

Proper leadership must balance various values

We read in this week's Torah portion of Pinchas (Bamidbar 25,10-30,1; outside Israel, Parashat Balak is read) of the "covenant of peace" that G-d gave to Pinchas. This happened after Pinchas zealously killed a public adulterer and thus saved the People of Israel from the punishing plague of death.

What exactly was this "covenant of peace" that G-d gave Pinchas after such an un-peaceful act of public execution? One explanation is that true peace is based not on flattery and false pretenses, but on Torah and ethics. "There is no peace to the wicked ones, said G-d" (Yeshayahu 48,22); by killing Zimri, Pinchas shattered the false peace and alliance between the evil ones – as well as the divisions between Israel and G-d.

But still, why specifically a covenant of "peace" of all things? We know that the attribute truth was very strong in the Israelite tradition up to then – "Give peace to Yaakov," we read; Yaakov was a man of truth, as was Moshe Rabbeinu, who strongly symbolized this attribute. Why peace, therefore, and not truth? These two traits are actually quite different: While Aharon pursued peace and brotherhood, Moshe would say, "Let the law pierce the mountain!"

In fact, the Talmud discusses whether "compromise" is a correct approach – for, after all, it is, by definition, not the truth of the matter. Some sages that it is actually forbidden, while others say that it is the preferred approach. In the Mishnah of Pirkei Avot (1,12), we read support for this latter methodology: "Be of the students of Aharon [grandfather of Pinchas] – lover of peace and pursuer of peace, love people, and bring them close to Torah." The Rambam says that Aharon would speak with sinners, approach them with love, to the point that they would then wish to be like him, correct their ways, and become his students.

When our Sages seek to explain what was the nature of the "covenant of peace" that G-d forged with Pinchas, they generally focus on three aspects. One is the Priesthood itself, as the verse here states: "Pinchas has turned My wrath away from Israel, in that he was zealous for My sake… Behold, I give him My covenant of peace… the covenant of an everlasting priesthood…" Thus, priesthood is peace.

A second approach is that peace here means "protection," in various ways. One aspect is that the covenant will protect from "zealousness." Pinchas, after all, performed a very violent act of spearing two people to death. Yes, it was justified and necessary to stop the plague, but it was liable to imbue within the perpetrator traits of cruelty, anger and violence. The 19^th-century R. Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, author of the Haamek Davar commentary on the Torah, explains that G-d gave Pinchas with this covenant a guarantee that the violent act would not stain his soul; he would rather become a Priest – a man of peace, love and kindness – and this would balance him, cleanse his soul of the remnants of violence, and ensure that what he did would remain a one-time act and not a fixed attribute of his character. Rather, the priesthood would restore him to the way of peace of his grandfather, Aharon HaCohen.

It would even stand him in good stead in next week's Torah portion, where we read that Moshe appointed Pinchas to head the military as it "avenged G-d's vengeance" against the Midianites who coaxed Israel to sin.

At the end of our Shmoneh Esrei prayer, we say Oseh shalom bimromav, "He Who makes Peace above, may He bring peace upon us and upon all Israel." We request that we will know how to balance between the various contradictory forces and elements in our lives, just as G-d did with the four basic elements [earth, wind, fire, water] when He created the world, and thus turn every argument and dispute into a building block of positivity.

This balance brings us to an additional level of this gift of the "covenant of peace" given to Pinchas – a way of life for both the individual and the collective. Regarding the fast of the 17th of Tammuz which occurred this week, as well as the other fasts, the prophet Zechariah says that they will become days of joy and gladness, in which truth and peace will not only coexist, but will do so in love and harmony: "The fast of the fourth month, and the fast of the fifth, and the fast of the seventh, and the fast of the tenth, shall be for the house of Yehuda joy and gladness… therefore love the truth and peace" (8,19). Just as G-d makes peace in His heavens, finding balance between opposites, so the preferred way is to make peace upon us and upon all of Israel.

Truth alone does not suffice; we must walk in the path of peace of Aharon HaCohen, without harming the value of truth – even if it does not remain totally pure. We must go beyond the letter of the law, and even take the path of compromise - the path with which G-d blessed Pinchas.

Both on the individual and communal levels, we cannot run our lives, or a country, based on strict rulings that do not take into account all of the considerations. Israel's Legal Counsel [today, a woman by the name of Gali Bahrav-Miara] is just that: one who does not make decisions, but gives counsel to the government, which then takes this opinion into account as it makes its final decisions. The Legal Counsel is to present a version of the "truth," and the government must see if it can be implemented precisely as is, or whether various elements of "peace" must be sifted in so that the best decision will result. G-d is the "King who loves justice and law," we say in our prayers, and not law alone.

This approach must be adopted, for a prime example, in the controversial matter of the IDF's recruitment of Torah students and the possible overturning of decades of custom in Israel. This would seem to be an additional, profound layer of the gift of the "covenant of peace" given to Pinchas – allowing him to hold the priesthood on one hand, and to lead the army to war against the Midianites on the other. Peace is not merely the absence of war, but primarily harmony and synthesis – a balance between zealotry and the attribute of loving-kindness.

Not for naught does the Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 123,1) rule that when we recite the above-words "He Who makes peace in the Heavens," we should take three steps backwards, and turn to both sides and ask for peace amongst us as well. For in order to reach peace - such as in our family life, in the synagogue, and in the public arena - we must know that despite the truth, it is G-d's will that each side soften up and step a bit backwards. This will enable the necessary peace to "come upon us and all of Israel, and let us say Amen."

Balak: Balak and Bil'am: Fear Itself – and Joy

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshiva, Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The Baal Shem Tov (Besht) told the following parable: There was once a very wise king who wanted to challenge his subjects. He built many walls around his palace, one inside the other, with rivers in between them, as well as lions, tigers and bears for good measure. On the other hand, he also scattered there much silver and gold between the walls, and announced: "Whoever comes to see me, all the gold and silver he finds there is his!" Many people tried to climb the walls, but retreated as soon as they saw the wild animals. Others got up the courage, even took some money, but became more afraid as they advanced, and returned home.

But one man, who truly venerated and loved the king, paid no heed to the difficulties and dangers, because his heart burned with love within him to see and be with the king. And so he set off to climb the walls – and found that there actually were no walls; everything was imaginary. The only real thing he saw was the king on his throne, smiling and extending his hand in welcome…

With this parable, the Besht sought to teach us that the world is filled with many obstacles on the way to true service of G-d. One of them is simply the fear that we will not really be able to reach great heights. Other obstacles are our worries about making a living, which prevent us from fulfilling our potential to serve G-d. But in fact, all these and others are simply not true; they are all in our imagination. In truth, if a Jew can make sure not to scare himself, but to truly remember and know that he has the ability to rise up and fulfill his real potential – he will discover that he has the resources to serve G-d no matter what other challenges he faces, and will ultimately reach the King.

In truth, this idea is found in our weekly Torah portion of Balak [Bamidbar 22,2-25,9, to be read outside Israel only next week]. Two entities colluded in the wilderness to prevent Israel from cleaving to G-d and reaching the Holy Land, home of the Divine Presence: Moav and Midian, represented by King Balak and the Gentile prophet Bil'am. Let us consider: What were their respective motivations in seeking to harm Israel?

Regarding Moav, the Torah tells us that they were simply afraid: "The Moavites feared Israel because the people [of Israel] were so numerous" (22,3). In truth, however, they had nothing to fear; it was all in their imagination, as in the parable of the Besht. For G-d had commanded Israel straight out, "Do not attack Moav and do not provoke them to fight; I am not giving you their land…" (D'varim 2,9), meaning that the Moavites were simply scaring themselves, for no reason.

The other element in this struggle against Israel was Bil'am, who sought to harm Israel for nothing more than --- riches. He hinted at this himself, when he claimed to be subject only to G-d's word and said to Balak's messengers: "Even if Balak would give me his entire home's worth of silver and gold, I cannot violate G-d's word…" (22,18). As the Siftei Chachamim explains Rashi's commentary there, Bil'am did not say, "Even if Balak would cut off my head" or the like, but rather hinted that his true desires were for other people's money.

Thus, two phenomena joined together: One entity scares itself and allows itself to fear for no reason, and the other seeks illicit, transient wealth, and between the two of them, G-d reveals that these are both imaginary, and that Bil'am essentially has no power to curse G-d's nation, which will remain eternally blessed.

This is a very important point for us to adopt in our efforts to serve G-d and fulfill the Torah.

Who doesn't know the popular song, "Kol ha'olam kulo, gesher tzar me'od" (The entire world is a very narrow bridge)! The composer of these words was none other than Rabbe Nachman of Bresolv (Likutei Moharan Tinyana, 48). Most people know the end of the song as, "V'ha'ikar – lo lefa'ched klal" (The main thing is not to have any fear!). But in truth, Rabbe Nachman's original wording has one extra letter: not lo lefa'ched, but rather lo l'hitpa'ched, which is the reflexive form of the verb, and it means: "The main thing is not to allow yourself to fear!"

Rabbe Nachman is speaking to one who is entering the path of G-d, teaching that he must know that there will be difficulties and tests along the way, and that precisely when he wishes to take on the challenge, that is when his negative inclinations and urges will rise up and try to topple him and cause him to give up!

And therefore Rabbe Nachman says, "Know that one must pass over a very narrow bridge, and the principle rule is that he must not scare himself!" One must shake off his lack of faith in himself, and believe that he has the strength to rise up and do what is right. Rabbe Nachman continues there that one must gird himself forcefully against the Evil Inclination, and that "a true tzaddik once said that if he had heard this advice when he was just starting out, [he] would have run very eagerly to serve G-d…." 

And it is a good idea to follow what Rabbe Nachman writes at the end of the above passage, that one should seek out and find good points within himself, even a small merit or good thing, "and with that little goodness that he finds within himself, he should be very happy, and encourage himself, and not overlook it. Even if he fell into sin, even then he must strengthen himself with the small goodness that he still can find within himself, to the point where he will end up meriting via this to return to G-d completely… and the main thing is always to be in a state of happiness, even with frivolous dancing and laughter, in order to reach this state of happiness, which is a very great thing."

May we merit to strengthen and become strengthened very greatly in avodat Hashem!

Hukat: The Logic of Not Understanding

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion (in Israel; outside the Land, it will be read next week) is Hukat (Bamidbar 19,1-22,1). It begins with the beyond-human-understanding laws of the Red Heifer, its preparation, and how it purifies those who have been defiled by a corpse or the like.

This law, like several others in the Torah, is called a ḥukah, meaning a statute that we cannot understand. Another example of a ḥukah is the ban on marrying one's brother's widow - unless the brother died childless, in which case it is actually a mitzvah for the surviving brother to marry her. The original ban is termed a ḥukah (see Vayikra 20,22) – for it is very difficult to understand how marrying a particular woman can become a mitzvah after she was so clearly forbidden to him beforehand.

How, in fact, are we to understand these ḥukah commandments? And why is the Red Heifer the "mother" of all such mitzvot, being termed not just a ḥukah, but also ḥukat HaTorah, "the statute of the Torah" (in the second verse of the portion, Bamidbar 19,2)?

The Medrash (Bamidbar Rabba 19) teaches that these and two other examples of ḥukah are "used by the Evil Inclination to try to sway a person to leave the Torah path, because they appear to be self-contradictory."

The Medrash continues and says that an idol-worshiper once asked the renowned R. Yochanan ben Zakkai why we prepare a Red Heifer in a manner that appears to be nothing more than black magic? "You bring a cow, burn it, crush it, and take its ashes [mixed with water and other ingredients]. Then, if one of you becomes defiled by a corpse, you sprinkle some drops of the mixture on him, and declare him pure!?"

R. Yochanan answered, "You do the same thing! If a demon or spirit of madness enters one of you, what do you do?" The man answered that they make a potion, place it on a fire, etc. R. Yochanan said, "With us too, the defilement is an impurity, which we remove…"

R. Yochanan's students later said to him, "You dismissed him easily, but how do you explain the Red Heifer to us??" R. Yochanan said, "By your lives, it is not the corpse that defiles, nor do the water ashes purify. Rather, G-d decreed this law, and we have no choice but to follow it, as is written, 'This is the statute of the Torah.'"

It would seem that this Medrash cannot be understood plainly. For one thing, how can the concept of fulfilling a law without a reason be understood? And could it be that R. Yochanan would lie to the idol-worshiper, and then reveal the truth only to his students? And the answer that he told them - that the dead do not cause impurity - does this not contradict clear Torah verses? And above all: Is the ultimate answer that R. Yochanan provided to his skeptical students merely that there is no answer, and that's it?! What kind of explanation is that?!

Rather, the explanation is this:

The People of Israel do not require logical explanations in order to fulfill the mitzvot; the fact that G-d commanded them is enough for them to fulfill them whole-heartedly. Yes, the Sages gave reasons for some mitzvot, in order to fulfill a different mitzvah: that of studying and knowing about the Torah that which can be known. For just as we must serve G-d whole-heartedly, so must we do so with the entirety of our other organs, such as the intellect.

But where the Sages gave no reason, this is no problem: Our intellect can simply subject itself to the mitzvah via the knowledge that all of the Torah's commands are G-d's Wisdom, far from our own human wisdom; this knowledge, when internalized, certainly can easily help us subjugate our intellect to the Divine intellect.

This can be likened to two men who wish to be healthy. One is a hermit and knows nothing of modern medicine, and makes up his own medicines and treatments that he has concluded will help him. The other man lives in modern society and takes medicines in accordance with the latest scientific knowledge taught by people he knows and admires. The first person lives in doubt all his life; he does not truly know if the herbs he is taking will work. But the second knows with his intellect that he is taking the right approach, even without understanding why or how his medicines work.

Similarly, our trust in the Sages and their teachings is greater than whatever "logical" theories we can make up. The Sages of Truth can provide us with more certainty that our own understandings – which may end up being wrong. All the more so is this true for one who trusts G-d A-lmighty to teach him the true path.

Thus, the Sages provided some reasons for mitzvot, for the reason mentioned above – and also because there are those people whose faith is not yet complete, but which could be buttressed by understanding reasons for the mitzvot. So explained Rabbi Eliyahu Ki-Tov, in his work The Book of Our Heritage, Sefer HaTodaah.

Regarding R. Yochanan's response to the pagan: No, he did not lie to him. He rightfully said that via the Red Heifer's ashes, we get rid of the impurity – but this was only a technical answer. He did not delve into the depth of the matter, because he apparently felt that the man would not be able to comprehend it.

However, when his students came and said they wanted to hear the depth of the issue, he felt that they would, in fact, be able to grasp it. He explained to them the profound truth that the Red Heifer and its laws are actually the basis for all of the mitzvot: The corpse in and of itself does not defile the living, but does so only by virtue of G-d's decree. The same is true for the water ashes: They purify the impure only in the merit of G-d's decree that they do so!

And the fact that no reason was given to us as to how this works is actually a teaching in and of itself – that the most important principle in doing the mitzvot is the knowledge that there is nothing more logical than fulfilling them simply because they were commanded by the Creator of all life – He Who keeps the world perpetually running and in existence, and the One Who wants and knows what is best for us! What could be more logical than that?!

From this we also learn that we fulfill other mitzvot as well – not only the Red Heifer –not because of some "logical" reason that we have been taught, or because we "understand" it – but simply because the right, smart, and logical thing to do is to listen and adhere to G-d's word and will!

Is it then worthwhile to learn the reasons for mitzvot? Yes, because it is another mitzvah in and of itself to know the Torah and its secrets, to whatever extent we can.

The message of Parshat Hukat, then, is not to fulfill unknowable mitzvot blindly – but rather because the fulfillment of all mitzvot commanded by G-d in the Torah is ultimately the most logical thing we can do.

Korach: Why Individualism is Divisive

by Rav Azriel Ariel, Rabbi of Ateret in the Binyamin Region and heads the "Brotherhood" Department for Jewish Social Policy at the Torah and State Center, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion (in Israel) is Korach (Bamidbar 16-18), which always leads to thoughts of social division and controversy. Let us discuss the roots of his ancient dispute and why it is poisonous to a society.

In today's sharp societal debate regarding proposed reforms to Israel's judicial system, one of the most charged issues is that of "equality." One side views equality as a supreme value that must be accorded a place of honor in Israel's unwritten Constitution that the Supreme Court is attempting to create. The other group views equality as a threat to Israel's identity as the State of the Jewish People, which by definition must actualize Jewish values.

This dispute forces us to clarify what the Torah has to say about the concept of equality, even if the word itself does not appear there.

The ancient world was hierarchical, predicated on the idea that some people were born to be kings, some to be subjects, and others to be slaves. This perception perfectly paralleled their world of idol worship, in which a supreme god ruled and tyrannized the lower gods. The Torah of Israel created a revolution: no more plurality of gods, but one single God Who created all human beings in His image. All human beings were born from one couple, and everyone shares a basic common denominator: everyone was created equal.

The Sages expressed this in Tractate Sanhedrin (37a), which states that one reason man (Adam) was created single was "for the sake of peace, so that no one may say to another, 'My father is greater than yours.'" Jewish ethics therefore demands certain basic universal duties that apply to every human being: "You shall not murder," "You shall not steal," "There shall be one law and one judgment for you" - not only for the citizen, but also "for the stranger who dwells among you."

Yes, the Torah grants great importance to "equality" before the law, to the extent that even a King is subject equally to Torah laws. Men and women are equal in terms of their essential Halakhic obligations; the lands in Eretz Yisrael were distributed equally proportionately to the Tribes, the manna portions were allocated equally; and the half-shekel obligation was equal: one half-shekel for each.

Why then do we see that today's religious public shies away, to put it mildly, from the progressive concept of "equality"?

The first problem is that equality is defined as an independent moral value. Indeed, all human beings are created in the image of God – but how does this logically lead to the conclusion that they must be equal in everything? The Torah and the teachings of the Sages do not define equality as a value, but rather as a "standard of justice." That is, the essence of the law is its universality, and if it discriminates without cause between people, it is unjust - and an unjust law is not binding (Sh. Ar., Choshen Mishpat 369,6).

This does not mean that private resources that a person acquired through his own initiative and efforts must be distributed to others so that all end up with the same amount (although he must give some to the poor). Equality, therefore, is an important measure of justice, but it is not the sole parameter. Turning equality into an independent moral value mars other aspects of justice, and as such is injustice, or worse.

The Totality of it

The second flaw in today's concept of equality is its totality. It appears to be given priority over every other value it confronts. Thus, the IDF is being gradually ordered to allow girls into every army combat unit, whilst trampling not only the values of modesty and the boundaries between the genders – but also that of "victory." Thus in a series of Supreme Court rulings, Jewish and Zionist values are being displaced to make way for civil equality.

The Torah does not take that direction. Yes, "man is beloved because he was created in G-d's image" (Avot 3,14), but "Israel is My first-born son" (4,22). Israel itself is divided into Cohanim, Levites, and Israelites; men and women have different Halakhic obligations; the lots of the Land were divided equally, but in the end, various calculations had to be made, resulting in inequality (see Bava Batra 117a). Equality is clearly important, but its value relative to others is far from absolute.

How Did This Happen?

How did equality become such a primary value in contemporary moral thinking? In the past, society was perceived as an organic body. Just as the human body is composed of organs, tissues, and cells, so human society is composed of nations, tribes, communities, and families. In an organic system, there is no equality. Each of the components has its own characteristics, its own needs, and its own roles. But it also has reciprocity, even if not symmetrical. A Jewish marriage is not based on equality, but rather on reciprocity; each partner has different duties and rights. The family thus functions as one body.

So too the nation: Different roles and privileges are allocated to Cohanim, Levites, and Israelites, as well as to Torah scholars and people of action (the tribes of Yissachar and Zevulun, respectively). The foundation upon which social morality is based in such a structure is the value of brotherhood. This explains why in most of the Torah's social commandments, "your brother," "your fellow," and "your neighbor" appear in various inflections. And thus cries out the last of the prophets: "Have we not all one father? Has not one God created us?" (Malachi 2,10).

The modern world dismantled society into isolated individuals, each fighting for his own rights and collapsing the value of brotherhood. Each person derived his sense of worth from his own achievements and status, leading of course to constant competition and friction. The absolute importance of "equality" was then introduced. But since full equality cannot be realized in any society, we must acknowledge that this new system simply does not work. Focusing on equality generates an endless discourse of envy.

However, in the organic perception presented by the Torah of Israel, we derive our sense of worth from two concepts: belonging and meaning. This leads to a deep commitment of every person toward his fellow, as well as joy in the happiness of others - and certainly in that of the community - when they succeed. The individualistic, equality approach deepens competition, while the organic approach deepens cooperation between them.

And thus taught our saintly Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda Kook: "G-d's created world is full of distinctions, and one must not ignore this or blur them. However, differentiation is not separation; division leads to wars, while distinctions lead to cooperation and harmony."

This was the critical mistake made by Korach. He understood correctly that "the entire congregation is holy" (16,3), but he abandoned the organic conception of the nation, in which "each person according to his camp" (1,52); each individual serves the community in a different role, with mutual respect and appreciation. Korach adapted the individualistic approach, and thus led the rebellion against Moshe and Aharon. And because he left the discourse of brotherhood and adopted instead that of jealousy, he was swallowed up in the earth and became an eternal symbol of divisiveness.