Years ago, I was talking with someone from the Valley about shuls. When I mentioned that I go to the Library Minyan, he was impressed. He had been to the minyan a few times, and really enjoyed it. He explained that in lay-led minyans such as ours there is a greater opportunity for everyone in the kahal to participate and feel wholly engaged and involved in the davening experience. I agree completely. But then he added that what he loved most about our type of minyan is that it enables you to "own your Judaism." Although well intentioned, something about that last statement -- "Own your Judaism" -- didn't sit well with me. I'll explain why. But first some background from this week's parsha, Korach.
The parsha begins with an account of the infamous Korach rebellion. Korach, a Levite, along with Datan, Aviram and On from the tribe of Reuben, assembled 250 men from among the leaders of the assembly. Together, this entourage confronted Moses and Aaron and declared, "Rav -lechem": "You have taken too much for yourselves, whereas all of the assembly, all of them, are holy and G-d is among them. Why do you exalt yourselves above the entire kahal of G-d?" This is understood to be a direct challenge to the leadership of Moses and Aaron, accusing them of taking too much power and prestige for themselves. The implication is that everyone in the entire "edah" (assembly) -- and thus, most importantly, Korach himself -- are just as qualified as Moses and Aaron to lead the community. By confronting Aaron as well as Moses, it is clear that Korach's challenge is not only to the political leadership of the Israelites, but also to religious authority -- the ability to stand before G-d and perform ritual sacrifices in His most holy place in the name of the entire nation.
Things didn't turn out well for Korach. G-d himself ultimately intervened, after ample warnings conveyed by Moses, and created "a new thing," a type of miracle never before seen: the earth opened up and swallowed Korach whole along with those of his family who chose to stand with him. The 250 elders of the assembly were then consumed by a miraculous fire, similar to that which previously killed two of Aaron's sons in the incident of the "strange fire" in an earlier parsha. From thenceforth, Korach has been condemned in our tradition and numerous commentaries as a selfish and arrogant traitor and would-be usurper of Moses.
Nevertheless, at some level, I have to confess feeling a bit of sympathy for Korach . . . at least for awhile, at first blush. Forgetting for a moment Korach's haughty arrogance and ambition and all the terrible things Rashi has written about him, isn't there something in Korach's speech that strikes a resonant cord with us, as modern American Jews? "Why do you exalt yourselves above the rest of your people?" "All the community is holy, and G-d can be found among all of us" -- not just Moses and Aaron, not just Kohen or Levi, but all of us as Jews have a connection to G-d. How democratic! How spritually empowering! How egalitarian! After all, weren't we all created in G-d's image? Wasn't the Torah given to all the Jews? Didn't we all stand at Sinai, and aren't we all commanded to be a Nation of Priests?
But on closer examination, that's not what Korach was really about. Korach was no egalitarian; that was only rhetoric to him. Korach belonged to one of the more privileged Levite family lines, a beneficiary of the very religious heirarchy that he supposedly condemned. Not satisfied with that position, Korach aspired to that of Moses and Aaron. Dotan, Abiram and On were Reubenites, descendants of Jacob's first born son, who evidently felt entitled by their birthright to greater privilege and prestige than that of common Israelites. The other 250 men assembled with Korach were desribed as "nisyeh-edah . . . anshei shem" (literally "princes of the assembly . . . men of name"). Indeed, there is a common Israeli expression, "ashir k'mo Korach" (rich as Korach). Far from egalitarian, this was a rebellion from among the elite of Israel, demanding to be recognized as such, and not content to stay in the shadows of someone the likes of Moses.
But one thing Korach and his followers failed to understand is that the roles of Moses and Aaron in the community and before G-d really had nothing to do with power or prestige, but instead with spiritually exhausting and thankless work, and awesome responsibility. Unlike Korach, Moses never aspired to power. To the contrary, in his encounter with the burning bush, Moses repeatedly asserted his unworthiness for the role G-d was thrusting upon him. And what can be more humbling than for a mere mortal like Moses to stand before G-d, the all powerful and all knowing Creator of the Universe, and repeatedly beg for mercy and forgiveness on behalf of the nation for its sins? Korach understood none of this. Looking at Moses and Aaron, he saw only glory and wanted it for himself.
Perhaps the most crucial quality Moses had, and Korach lacked, was a sense of humility, reverence, and trembling awe for that which was greater than himself. Korach's insistence that he was just as qualified as Moses and Aaron, and that G-d dwells equally among all of us, was really a semantical attempt to reduce G-d, to bring G-d down to Korach's own level and within his reach and grasp. In effect, Korach believed he could "own his Judaism."
Now, back to us modern American Jews. We are privileged to live in a time and place of unprecedented freedom, knowledge, wealth, and capabilities. As Americans, we strive for equality, and at the same time for individualism and autonomy, living in what has been branded an "ownership society." Free market ideas have inevitably spilled over into our religious life as well. Here in America, and more specifically in the American Jewish Community, we can choose from a smorgasbord of Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, Reconstructionist, Feminist, and Kabalist Judaism, served up any way we like it -- in big, stain-glassed temples or in rented store front shtibls, pulpit-rabbi led, or lay minyan-led, instrumental or acapella, hazanim or choirs, Carlebach or Friedman. And all this freedom and variety, on the whole, is a very positive thing. I believe that Judaism in modern America has flourished with a vibrancy and ingenuity unlike that of any other time or place in our history. We 21st Century (or should I say, 58th Century) Jews enjoy incredibly abundant access to Jewish knowledge and learning. So many of us are now learning to become baalei-tfillah. We can layn. We can daven. We can study mishnah on-line. We can download kaballah.
Yet, in all of this variety and autonomy there is a danger of which we must be ever careful and circumspect -- a danger that we may become too smug, cavalier, arrogant, or demanding in our approach to spirituality, that we may lose sight of that powerful and holy sense of humility, and reverence before G-d which Korach lacked. We cannot forget, as Korach did, that we do not, and cannot, ever "own our Judaism." That, and the Torah which safeguards it, come from and forever belong to a "higher source" before whom our most worthy human response is to tremble in awe.