Korach’s Uprising: Are We Missing the Real Fight?
This week’s Parsha reveals why pausing to question matters
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It’s hard to know whether this week’s Parsha felt difficult to write because it doesn’t offer the kind of neat moral clarity I was hoping for—or because I, like so many others, have been feeling emotionally and spiritually disoriented by the news this week, making it hard to write about anything else.
This past Sunday, I saw reactions to Trump’s involvement in the war between Israel and Iran. People responded with apocalyptic dread, fearing world war—and others sighed with relief. And last night in New York, I watched Zohran Mamdani win the Democratic mayoral primary. For some folks I follow on social media, this was a breakthrough moment—a reason to hope again in the city’s future. For others, it felt like a breaking point — the end of something safe or known. It broke my heart, seeing the world so divided - so diametrically opposed.
I opened this Parsha hoping for a story that would steady me. Something simple. Something inspiring that could bring us together.
Instead, I got firepans and sinkholes. Hysterical people. A deadly plague.
A rebellion that seems to come from a good place—and yet ends in fire and death.
But maybe the inspiration this week isn’t in the clarity.
Maybe it’s learning how to see in the noise.
What Actually Happens in This Week’s Parsha
The Parsha opens with Korach, a prominent Levite, launching a rebellion against Moshe’s leadership. He’s joined by Datan and Aviram from the tribe of Reuven and 250 chieftains from across the Israelite camp—respected men, leaders in their own right. Together they confront Moshe and Aharon with a bold challenge:
“You’ve gone too far! All the people are holy—why do you exalt yourselves over the congregation of God?”
At first glance, it sounds like a call for equality. But as the rabbis and commentators note, Korach’s motives seem more self-serving than selfless. He’s not calling for shared leadership—he’s positioning himself to take Moshe’s place.
Moshe doesn’t argue. He falls on his face. Then he proposes a test:
Everyone should bring a firepan and offer incense, and God will make clear who is truly chosen.
The next day, the entire community gathers. The air is thick with tension.
Korach and his followers arrive with their firepans.
And then—something terrible happens.
The ground opens up beneath Korach, Datan, and Aviram. They, their families, and their possessions are swallowed alive.
Fire descends from heaven and consumes the 250 incense-offerers.
You might think the story ends there—but it doesn’t.
The very next day, the people rise up again—this time accusing Moshe and Aharon of killing “God’s people.” A plague breaks out. People begin to die.
In a moment of desperation, Moshe tells Aharon to take his firepan, fill it with incense, and run into the midst of the plague to make atonement.
Aharon does it. He runs into the chaos and stands, the Torah tells us,
“between the living and the dead.”
Only then does the plague stop. But not before 14,700 people have died.
Not a Revolution—Just a Campaign
Korach and his allies came to Moshe with a powerful line:
“The whole nation is holy!”
As Tali Adler points out, it’s the kind of line that could go on a protest poster. A radical idea. Isn’t that what we want? A holy people. A shared spiritual calling. Not a hierarchy, but a community.
But it quickly becomes clear: Korach isn’t offering a new system. He’s offering himself.
He’s not organizing a revolution—he’s running a campaign.
As Rabbi Francis Nataf writes, Korach uses charisma, vague promises, and religious populism to build a coalition of the discontented.
His slogan isn’t a vision. It’s bait.
Maybe if the people that joined revolution had paused and asked, “What’s your plan, Korach?” they could have exposed his campaign’s flaws, before the misery that follows.
The Spiral No One Stops
What’s shocking isn’t just Korach’s manipulation.
It’s how quickly everything spirals.
Moshe doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t try to de-escalate.
He immediately falls on his face.
Then he proposes a trial by fire.
Instead of Moshe asking:
Korach, what does your future look like?
How would you lead differently?
Are you thinking “no leader” or just “new leader”?
Instead of asking the people:
What do you really want?
What are you afraid of?
Moshe jumps to panic.
And the people do too.
The earth opens. Fire falls. A plague spreads.
Fourteen thousand, seven hundred people die.
It’s chaos.
And honestly? That makes this Parsha hard to sit with.
Especially right now, when so many of us are feeling overwhelmed, defensive, afraid.
It feels like the Parsha itself is mirroring our hysteria.
And that’s not comforting.
But Maybe That’s the Lesson
I wanted Torah to clean this up for me.
To give me a villain, a hero, a clean moral takeaway.
But the more I read, the more I felt like I was standing too close to a fire—like everything was hot and spinning and no one was making sense.
And maybe… that is the lesson.
This Parsha doesn’t tie up its loose ends.
It doesn’t give us a clear villain or an uncomplicated hero.
Yes, Aharon is chosen. His staff blossoms. But I still found myself wondering:
What was really so wrong with Korach’s question?
What would have happened if Moshe had stayed curious instead of falling on his face?
What if Korach had been forced to explain himself—not just perform outrage?
What if the people had waited one more moment before choosing a side?
Which Brings Me Back to Us
We’re living in a time of charismatic leaders and viral slogans.
Of moral outrage, often performative.
Of distrust in institutions and desperate hope for something better.
And it’s easy to jump to a side—declaring who is holy, who is dangerous, who must be destroyed.
It’s a lot harder to slow down and ask the right questions.
But maybe that’s what Torah is asking of us this week.
To ask more of our leaders—we don’t need charisma and slogans, we need accountability, a willingness to listen, and compassion.
And we need those traits for ourselves as well.
So What Can That Actually Look Like?
When a leader—or a post you read—says something that makes you feel good, pause and ask:
What are they really saying?
What promises are they making—and what aren’t they saying out loud?
Whose power is growing if I agree? Whose is being diminished?
Is this a vision for all of us—or just a few?
and before you repost or repeat a message—pause for five minutes and consider:
Whose voices am I amplifying, and whose am I ignoring?
What might I ask if I really wanted to understand—not just react?
Who have I not heard from yet—and how can I make space to really listen?
A Final Word
This week’s Parsha is messy and unresolved—because real life is messy and unresolved.
We don’t always get closure.
We don’t always know who’s right.
It can feel like the firepans are already burning before we’ve asked the right questions.
The generation of the desert had God right there.
Clouds of glory. Daily manna. A leader who spoke face-to-face with the Divine.
And still—they doubted. They panicked. They rebelled.
We don’t have their luxuries.
So it is even more important that we learn to slow down.
To resist the rush toward judgment.
To be skeptical of charisma, cautious with slogans, and curious—always curious—about what’s underneath the noise.
Let’s not mistake hysteria for holiness.
Let’s ask better questions—of our leaders, our movements, and ourselves.
And let’s ask our leaders—not only to speak wisely, but to listen deeply.
And through slowing down, asking questions, and really trying to understand, we’ll begin to find our way—not just out of this stressful time, but toward a shared future.
Shabbat Shalom.
Miriam