How can we each fulfill the uniqueness of our potential, while doing so with humility and a spirit of service?
By JOSH FEIGELSONCARTOON fallen statue521(photo credit: pepe fainberg)
A creeping dynamic has been at play since the outset of the Book of Numbers, and it comes to the fore in the story of Korach: the question of authority, fame, and service.Specifically, how do we balance our innate desire and need for recognition and authority with a spirit of submission and selflessness? In order to fully appreciate the story, we first need to retrace our steps. At the start of Numbers, God instructs Moses to appoint heads of the tribes to assist in the counting of all the Israelites. “With you [and Aaron] will be one man for each tribe, each man the head of his ancestral house” (Num. 1:4). The Torah goes on to list the names of each of the men. “For the tribe of Reuben, Elitzur ben Shedeiur. For the tribe of Simeon, Shelumiel ben Tzurishaddai.” And so on.We find these characters again when they each bring gifts for the Tabernacle. “This was the offering of Nachshon ben Aminadav,” “This was the offering of Netanel ben Tzuar,” and so on. And they are listed again when the people grandly move from Mount Sinai on the way to the land of Canaan.The repeated reference to these leaders has thus far been peaceful: They seem to be not only supportive, but even woven into the fabric of Moses and Aaron’s leadership of the people. Notably, these leaders are not the spies who exaggerated the strength of the rulers of the land of Canaan. But when Korach mounts his rebellion, we find that the midrash links the tribal princes with the rebels. “Although the names of the princes who sided with Korach and joined him in his dispute were not explicitly mentioned, they were nevertheless made known by a veiled reference. They were princes of the congregation, the elect men of the assembly, anshei shem, men of renown (Num. 16:2). And this recalls the verse, ‘These were the elect of the congregation, the princes of the tribes of their fathers’ (Num. 1:16). They were the ‘men of renown’ whose names were mentioned in connection with the standards; as it says, ‘These are the names of the men that shall stand with you’ (Num. 1:5).” (Bamidbar Rabba 13:5).Numbers opened with the instruction to Moses to count all the Israelites according to their ancestral homes using “the number of their names” (Num. 1:2). This phrase indicates that while the Israelites are to transform into an army capable of conquering the land of Israel, they are to do so in a way that still honors the individual integrity of each of the members of the nation.But the use of the term anshei shem, men of renown, or men of names, to describe Korach’s rebels highlights the tension of that aspiration. All of us, and perhaps especially political leaders, simultaneously harbor the ambition to make a name for ourselves – to be one of the anshei shem – while needing, and even wanting, our names to be part of a larger social fabric. This is the tension that bursts to the surface in this Torah portion.Another midrash signals to us that this dynamic is universal, extending back to the earliest days of human civilization. We recall a mysterious verse from early in the book of Genesis: “The nephilim were on the earth in those days – and also afterward – when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them.They were the heroes of old, anshei ha’shem, ‘men of renown.” The midrash links the anshei ha’shem of this story with the anshei shem of Korach. “Rabbi Acha said in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi: Divisiveness is as challenging as the generation of the flood; just as the reference to anshei ha’shem in Genesis signals divisiveness, so too the reference to anshei shem in Numbers signals divisiveness” (Bereishit Rabba 26:7).In both cases, it seems, we are dealing with a basic challenge of building society. We crave the recognition that comes from hearing others call our name. “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” as Hillel famously put it. But at the same time, “When I am for myself, what am I?” In other words, how can we build communities and societies in which we can each fulfill the uniqueness of our potential, while doing so with humility and a spirit of service? There are, of course, many answers – the stuff of ethics and philosophy, of Aristotle, Maimonides and Rabbi Israel Salanter. Perhaps the Torah’s point, made in registers both overt and subtle, is that the question never goes away, but rather animates our lives day after day. Rabbi Josh Feigelson lives in Evanston, Illinois, and is founder of Hillel’s Ask Big Questions initiative and a consultant at The iCenter
