Tragedy follows tragedy: Korach 5785

Tragedy follows tragedy in the book of Bamidbar. The unwarranted complaints of the people regarding the food in the desert and the false report regarding the Land of Israel (discussed in last week’s parsha) end in plague, punishment and disaster. This week’s parsha describes the rebellion of Korach and his cohorts against Moshe and the supremacy of Torah within Jewish society.

It seems that a latent death wish lurks within Jewish society which makes it repeat terrible mistakes. The generation of the desert saw miracles, even God’s presence, so to speak, on a regular basis. Yet it increasingly defied and rebelled against its special role in human civilization. This was really an expression of regret on the part of many Jews in the desert that they accepted the Torah carte blanche at Sinai. This group did not intend to be a chosen people. The plaintive cry of “let us just return to Egypt” is really a demand that “we wish to be just like all other peoples!” This cry has  repeated itself in almost every generation. The struggle within Jews and Jewish society through the ages is whether to accept its God-given role as a “treasure amongst all nations” or to somehow renounce all pretense of being a special people. The choices are not really portrayed as being that stark because we make them in a continuum of Jewish observance, where adherence to Jewish values and the willin
gnes s to remain proudly Jewish is a decision made in a world that is hostile to Jews, a Jewish state and Judaism itself. 

Korach has personal animosity towards Moshe and he is frustrated at not achieving the recognition that he feels is due him, yet he wraps these feelings within a cloak of holiness and altruism. Hypocrisy abounds, especially amongst those who judge others, and the self-righteous give righteousness a bad name. Korach claims, in the name of democracy, that all the people are holy and worthy of leadership. His claims resound with classical correctness. They are hard to argue against and certainly have great public resonance and appeal. The problem with Korach’s appeal and words is that they are basically fraudulent. 

Moshe’s status, determined by God, has been vindicated in Jewish history throughout the ages. While there are no truly unbiased people in the world, t there are those who, at the very least, recognize their bias and attempt to deal with it honestly and intelligently. Hypocrisy is the attempt to cover up one’s bias with false nobility of purpose and affected altruism. It is a reprehensible character trait, far greater in potential destructiveness than is open enmity itself. This is what made Korach so dangerous and why Moshe’s determination to publicly expose and punish him was so strident and insistent. The tragedy of Korach lies not only his own personal downfall but rather in the havoc and confusion that it created in Jewish society. It is a situation that repeats itself today as well. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

Read "The Drive for Power", Rabbi Wein's devar Torah for Korach last year, here.

Double Take, by Rabbi Jesse Horn (Book of the Month, Tamuz 5785)

An occasional speaker at Beit Knesset Hanassi, Rabbi Jesse Horn is a prominent participant in the religious life of Israel's capital city. Within Yeshivat Hakotel he is known for his methodological and Brisker approach to Gemara, his creative outlook on Tanach, and for his warm and approachable personality. 

This month our Book of the Month is Rabbi Horn's Double Take (subtitled 'Biblical Personalities: More Than Meets The Eye'), which was first published in 2016. So what is it all about? According to the book's web page: 

In Double Take, Rabbi Jesse Horn bridges the gap between the traditional interpretations espoused by Chazal and other Rabbinic authorities on the one hand and the simple and straightforward reading of the Tanach on the other. By rigorous and sophisticated Biblical and Rabbinic textual analysis, Rabbinic sources which at first seems at odds with the text can be read harmoniously.

Rabbi Horn uncovers parallels, and answers critical questions such as, Why is this story included in the Torah? Why is this detail left out? Why do these two stories parallel each other? and What understanding does the Torah want us to derive about each character?

The contents of this work contain some surprises. Torah favourites such as Yosef and Yehuda, Aharon and Mordechai will be found in here as well as some names that attract less affection such as Lot and Hagar. 

As you might expect from the pen of an experienced educator, the text is clear and easy to follow. If you hunger for more, the ample footnotes provide a delicious second course packed with references, elucidatory comments and explanations.

A copy of Double Take has recently been procured by our little library in the downstairs Beit Midrash. Enjoy!

Prophet or King?

This coming Shabbat our haftorah is taken from the First Book of Samuel. While the Torah reading addresses the leadership crisis that occurs when Korach challenges the authority of Moshe, the haftorah depicts the prophet Shmuel confronting a people bent on setting a man over themselves as king.  

Prophet or King, another composition by our member Max Stern, vividly sets this confrontation to music, drawing upon the attitude and mindset of mass protest. As Max himself explains:

Reaching beyond the purely historical, this episode marshals power from the voice of the angry mob of all times by placing it within a contemporary context. Strikers, protesters, agitators, and grumblers of all sorts, add their voices to the ancients in demanding the needs of the moment, while ignoring the call of Eternity. 

How ironic is it that challenges to leadership so often lead to divisions in society and to the destruction of achdut, unity, while the ability of any orchestra or choir to function properly depends upon its individuals coming together and accepting the leadership of a single conductor.

Max's piece is scored for baritone soloist, narrators, choir and various instruments. It was first performed on 28 May 2007. The text is based on 1 Samuel, chapters 8, 11, 12 and Psalm 146:10. 

You can listen to this dramatic composition here.

Playing with power

Continuing our series of weekly Pirkei Avot posts on the perek of the week, we return to Perek 3.

Now here’s a mystery. We have a three-part mishnah in the name of Rabbi Yishmael (Avot 3:16) and our sages only agree about the third part:

הֱוֵי קַל לְרֹאשׁ, וְנֽוֹחַ לְתִשְׁחֽוֹרֶת, וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּשִׂמְחָה

Be easy to a rosh, affable to a tishchoret, and receive every man with happiness.

Our problem is that we cannot agree on the meaning of any of the key words, and especially rosh and tishchoret. One rabbi (R’ Marcus Lehmann, The Lehmann-Prins Pirkei Avoth) actually gives our mishnah four quite different translations.

Commentators over the years have maintained that the rosh is one’s head, one’s ego, a ruler, a leader, a superior, an elder, a civic leader, a venerable old man—and even God.

As for the tishchoret, this has been explained as someone who is young, old, black-haired, oppressed, a town clerk, the king’s secretary, or a time at which one should be slow and steady.

R’ Yishmael’s words were incorporated into this tractate over 1,800 years ago and we have lovingly preserved them while losing track of their original meaning. However, we cannot walk away from a mishnah and pretend it doesn’t exist so we must take on the task of giving it our own meaning, one that is both Torah-compliant and suited to the needs of our generation. R’ Reuven P. Bulka (Chapters of the Sages: A Psychological Commentary on Pirkey Avoth) seeks to do just that. He writes:

“The present mishna deals with ego difficulties relative to communal functioning. Primarily, they may be said to focus around individuals who have not reached the position of prominence in the community they felt was appropriate for them. The general tendency of such individuals is to downgrade those who have superseded them and to discourage those who would in the future gain the very positions they have failed to attain”.

Anyone who has been involved in Jewish communal affairs is likely to have come across people who fit this bill. Basically good-hearted and well-meaning souls, they feel they have been taken for granted and are disgruntled at not being voted into positions of authority or being nominated as one of the chatanim on Simchat Torah. They may become sullen and unhelpful towards those who are less experienced than themselves and who might benefit from the assistance of an older person. It can be a struggle to overcome one’s inner demons and, in R’ Bulka’s view, this is what Rabbi Yishmael has in mind.

Or perhaps we can summarise it simply like this: don’t demean the authority of those above you and don’t abuse your authority when dealing with those below you.

Am KeLavi - Rectifying the Sin of the Spies

Through the lens of history, some images become more than photographs — they become turning points. The paratroopers gazing up at the Kotel in 1967. Rav Goren blowing the shofar. These were not just moments — they became part of our national soul.

And now, as we live through a defining chapter in our own history, we find ourselves asking: what image will capture this moment?

Perhaps it may not come from the battlefield. It may just come from the airport. This week, a photograph was published of a woman who, upon landing in Israel, knelt to kiss the ground. Her act, so quiet and personal, says more than a thousand words. To much of the world, returning to a war zone makes no sense. But we — the Jewish people — understand. This is not recklessness. It is teshuva. It is a return of the heart.

As rockets fall and sirens sound, thousands of Israelis abroad are doing everything they can to come home. And what we are witnessing is not just a logistical operation — it is a spiritual movement, a national teshuva unfolding before our very eyes.

The Sin of the Spies: A Threefold Failure

This week’s parsha, Shelach, recounts one of the most devastating episodes in the Torah: the sin of the spies. Sent to scout the land, they returned not with lies, but with fear. They acknowledged the land’s beauty — but saw only its threats. “We cannot ascend,” they said. “The people are stronger than us.”

The sin was layered — and each layer cut deep:

• Against the Land: They slandered Eretz Yisrael, calling it “a land that devours its inhabitants.”
• Against the People: Their report demoralized the nation, spreading fear and despair.
• Against God: Most profoundly, they doubted Hashem’s promise, acting as though He could not fulfill it.

The result was national paralysis. Hashem decreed that the generation who rejected the land would not enter it.

Teshuva Done Wrong

The next day, a group known as the ma’apilim tried to undo the damage. “We will go up!” they declared, ready to fight. But it was too late. They acted without Hashem’s guidance and were defeated. The lesson is clear: teshuva must come with humility, not just urgency.

Our Generation’s Response

Today, we are blessed to witness something altogether different — a slow, sincere tikkun of that ancient sin. And remarkably, it addresses all three of its dimensions:

1. Love for the Land

While the spies recoiled, today Jews across the globe are embracing Eretz Yisrael. Even amidst rockets and fear, rescue flights are full. People are desperate to return. The photo of a woman kissing the ground of Israel was not staged — it was instinctive. The Rambam writes that the Sages would kiss the dust of the land, fulfilling the verse, “For Your servants cherished her stones and loved her dust.” What was once rejected is now held close.

2. Unity of the People

The spies’ words broke the spirit of the nation. But today, we see remarkable unity. After Simchat Torah and again during Operation Rising Lion, Israelis across all divides stood as one. Political rivals speak with mutual support. One opposition leader said it best: “Today, in this war, there is no right and left — only right and wrong.”

3. Rekindling of Faith

The deepest sin was spiritual. The spies questioned God’s protection. And in the aftermath of October 7, many asked: Where was God? Yet what followed was not spiritual collapse, but renewal. Faith and prayer have reentered the public sphere — from soldiers, from leaders, from returned hostages. Just hours before Israel’s pre-emptive strike on Iran, the Prime Minister was photographed at the Kotel, wrapped in a tallit, placing a handwritten verse inside the stones:

הֶן־עָם כְּלָבִיא יָקוּם וְכַאֲרִי יִתְנַשָּׂא — “Behold, a people that rises like a lioness and lifts itself like a lion.”

The Power of This Moment

The Rambam writes that the highest form of teshuva (teshuva gemura) occurs when a person is faced with the same challenge and chooses to act differently. As a nation, we find ourselves in a great moment of teshuva gemura. The fear is still here. The threats are real. And yet, we choose to return. We choose to stay. We choose to believe.

Parshat Shelach is more than a story of failure — it is a challenge to future generations. Will we learn from the past? Will we respond with faith instead of fear?

This Shabbat, our tefillot continue — even in limited numbers. And while we may not all be gathered together in shul, we remain deeply united in spirit and in purpose.

May we merit to continue this process of teshuva, and to write a new chapter — of love for our land, of unity among our people, and of renewed faith in Hashem.

Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Joel Kenigsberg

The Sin That Still Echoes—And the Redemption That Awaits

Parashat Shelach Lecha is one of the most pivotal and haunting portions in the Torah. It contains not only the tragic episode of the spies—the meraglim—but also four mitzvot that Chazal compare to the entire Torah: Shabbat, Tzitzit, Challah, and Yishuv Eretz Yisrael—the mitzvah to live in the Land of Israel. While each of these is powerful, one stands at the heart of our national destiny: the command to love, cherish, and settle the Land of Israel. Our member and eloquent exponent of Aliyah, Rabbi Paul Bloom, explains.

The Sin That Defined an Exile

It was on Tisha B’Av that the twelve spies returned from their mission. Ten of them, leaders and men of stature, brought a report laden with fear and negativity. They acknowledged the land’s beauty but punctuated it with one crushing word -- "But." “The people are strong… we cannot succeed.” This single word undid generations of promise. That night Bnei Yisrael wept, and Hashem declared, “You wept for nothing; I will give you weeping for generations.”

That moment—a night of baseless despair and rejection of the Promised Land—became the root of Tisha B’Av, a day that would echo with destruction through Jewish history. The sin was not only lashon hara about the land, but something deeper: a rejection of the land itself, a bizayon ha’aretz, despising the very gift Hashem had prepared for them.

Lashon Hara, Again—and Again

The Torah places the story of the spies immediately after the episode of Miriam speaking against Moshe. Rav Yisrael Ordman explains this is no coincidence. The spies should have learned from Miriam’s punishment the danger of slander. She failed to see Moshe’s unique spiritual level; the spies failed to see Eretz Yisrael’s unique spiritual status. They were not sent just to report military strategies—they were told by Moshe to look for the segulah of the land, its Divine uniqueness. But they got caught up in the mundane: the giants, the cities, the fears. They were blind to holiness.

Rav Soloveitchik offers another dimension: the spies were elite leaders who could not bear the idea of losing their status. Entering the land meant new leadership, new roles, new structures. The spies’ vision was clouded not just by fear—but by ego. They failed as sheluchim—messengers—not because they lacked information, but because they lacked bitul, the humility to carry a message that wasn’t about them.

Contrast this with the second mission, decades later. Yehoshua sends two anonymous spies to Jericho. The Torah doesn’t name them. They are “cheresh,” silent, like klei cheres—simple, humble vessels. Their report is filled with faith: “Hashem has given the land into our hands.” No fear. No ego. Just clarity.

The Eternal Sin of Despising the Land

Rav Yaakov Filber points out that the sin of the spies didn’t end in the desert. It repeated itself during the Babylonian exile. Despite Hashem's miraculous opening of the gates for return through Ezra and Nechemiah, most Jews stayed behind in the comfort of exile. They preferred their homes, their jobs, and their familiarity over the challenge—and holiness—of rebuilding life in Eretz Yisrael.

Tragically, we see the same today. The Vilna Gaon recognized this centuries ago. He urged his students to return and rebuild. One of his disciples, Rav Hillel of Shklov, wrote in Kol HaTor that many Jews in his time—especially observant ones—were still committing the sin of the spies. They rationalized their comfort in exile and denied the mitzvah of Yishuv Eretz Yisrael, despite clear Talmudic sources stating that dwelling in the Land is equal to all the mitzvot of the Torah.

Rav Yaakov Emden, in his introduction to his siddur, pleads with future generations not to settle permanently in chutz la'aretz, warning that the sin of despising the "desirable land" is the root of our eternal weeping.

A Test That Returns in Every Generation

Today, we are seeing open miracles—whether in the resilience of Israel in times of war, the unity among Jews under fire, or the blossoming of Torah and technology in a once-barren land. Yet many still view Eretz Yisrael through the lens of cynicism: bureaucracy, climate, personalities. As in the time of the meraglim, they ignore the Divine Presence, the spiritual vitality, the promise unfolding before our eyes.

We must ask: Are we repeating the sin of the spies?

Do we speak of the Land with reverence—or with lashon hara? Do we view Aliyah as a central mitzvah—or an optional inconvenience? Do we focus on the difficulties—or the destiny?

Redemption Awaits the Shift

The Mesilat Yesharim warns that kavod, the pursuit of honor, distorts perception. The spies feared loss of position. But Yehoshua’s messengers embraced their role as simple vessels. That’s the model we need today. The mitzvah of living in Eretz Yisrael is not merely a footnote—it is, as Chazal say, equal to all the mitzvot. When we embrace it with humility, with emunah, and with joy, we begin to undo the tears of Tisha B’Av. We open the door to redemption. As we approach the final stages of exile, the question is no longer whether we can return, but whether we are willing to.

Moshiach is not waiting on history. He is waiting on us.

Nishmat Kol Chai: A special song for 23 Sivan

Earlier this week we posted this piece by Rabbi Paul Bloom on the significance of 23 Sivan. Another of our members, Max Stern, has added to this by sharing with us a musical rendition of the first part of Nishmat Kol Chai for female voice, bassoon and piano. 

You can both watch this work (there are some cute visuals) and listen to it on Max's YouTube channel here.

Max has styled his work "Blessing of Song". It was composed during the Covid pandemic as a prayer for all humanity, expressing a profound and immensely topical desire that life should return to normal.