Korach: Misreading Intentions

By: Rabbi Moshe Taragin

We had hit rock bottom. After the sin of the spies, we were sentenced to wander the desert for forty years. Every adult over twenty was condemned to die before entering Eretz Yisrael.

At this point, we spiraled into a full-blown rebellion against Moshe’s authority. Korach and his band of insurgents whipped the nation into a frenzy, accusing Moshe of egotism, nepotism, and deception.

The debacle of the spies reflected a lack of faith in Jewish destiny and in Eretz Yisrael. It was a moment of public panic that overwhelmed reason and led the nation to question both the land and Hashem’s promise. The rebellion of Korach was different. It was not driven by fear but by anger and resentment. Korach, a gifted demagogue, manipulated the people into joining a campaign rooted in his own personal ambitions.

Ultimately, the rebellion against Moshe led to a complete breakdown of communication. Repeatedly, Moshe attempted to engage the rebels. They refused to listen. They embraced Korach’s accusations and never paused to consider Moshe’s perspective.

Once communication collapsed, the two sides no longer understood each other’s intentions. Perhaps some of the rebels’ concerns deserved discussion. In the past, when the burden of leadership became too heavy, Hashem appointed seventy elders to assist Moshe. Perhaps there were other ways to broaden leadership responsibilities. But the claim that Moshe was driven by ego, nepotism, and a hunger for power was absurd. Time and again, he had defended the people and saved them from divine punishment. The refusal to listen allowed Korach’s camp to completely misread his intentions.

Once communication ceases and intentions are misunderstood, compromise becomes nearly impossible. False narratives take hold, distrust deepens, and every action is viewed through a lens of suspicion. The rebellion of Korach illustrates the destructive consequences of a society trapped within competing narratives.

The Gap In Narratives

We are living through a very delicate moment in Israeli society. The issue of Charedi non-conscription is straining our social fabric and deepening divisions within our society.

Unfortunately, the lack of communication and interaction has created a widening gap in narratives. Charedim are misreading the intentions of the broader public in advocating conscription.

The broader Israeli public has little interest in hollowing out Charedi identity. Many Israelis deeply respect Torah and tradition even if they do not personally commit to a life centered around Torah study. There is no national or political agenda to destroy Torah study or the Charedi lifestyle.

Most Israelis are simply hurting. As the war drags on and fathers of large families report for their third round of extended miluim service, they are asking themselves: “Don’t they understand the burden we are carrying? Don’t they see how this is affecting our families?” Their plea is not to dismantle the Charedi world but to share the burden of this long war more broadly.

Many would argue that military service would significantly affect Charedi identity and lifestyle. That is a legitimate argument, whether one agrees with it or not. Opposition to conscription on those grounds is understandable and coherent. But the call for broader Charedi participation is not rooted in a sinister desire to weaken Torah study or undermine religious commitment.

We are facing a tragedy of miscommunication.

{Historical Shadows

Part of the challenge stems from the inherent nature of Charedi culture. Much of its strength lies in its commitment to continuity. Other segments of Orthodoxy respond to modernity through adaptation; Charedi society responds more cautiously. It places a premium on continuity, cultural insulation, and preserving inherited norms. Change is not rejected, but it is approached slowly.

This instinct has served the Charedi community well. It has helped preserve a robust Torah world through periods of rapid social upheaval. But it can also create a tendency to view contemporary challenges through the lens of earlier historical struggles. New situations are sometimes interpreted as recurring versions of old battles, even when the circumstances are very different.

There is a well-known story about the closing of the famed Volozhin Yeshiva in 1892. The Czarist Russian government, deeply hostile to Jewish life and religion, repeatedly attempted to impose a significant secular studies curriculum on the yeshiva. After years of pressure, Rav Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, the Netziv, chose to close what was arguably the most prominent yeshiva of the 19th century rather than submit to those demands. Whether this was the primary reason for the closure remains debated. Nevertheless, the story became part of the Charedi collective memory.

As a result, whenever governments seek to introduce a core secular curriculum into yeshivot, the story of Volozhin is often invoked. Yet the comparison is not apt. The governments of the United States and Israel are not similar to Czarist Russia. They are not motivated by antisemitism or a desire to uproot Torah study, but by a desire to improve economic participation and gainful employment. One may oppose those policies, but the circumstances are fundamentally different from the struggle faced by the Volozhin Yeshiva, which confronted an antisemitic regime intent on restricting religious life and undermining traditional Jewish education.

We are witnessing a similar misreading today. Calling for Charedi military service is not, for most Israelis, an attempt to destroy Torah. It is a sincere plea to share the burden of a long and exhausting war. One can oppose conscription on the grounds that it will diminish Torah study or weaken Charedi identity. Those are legitimate concerns. But the lack of communication has created a complete divergence of narratives, causing many people to hear motives that were never intended.

Misreading Each Other

This misunderstanding is not solely the result of Charedi hyper-preservation. Reactions from the broader public can sometimes become so sharp and sweeping that they reinforce Charedi suspicions. I have heard people respond to Charedi behavior by declaring, “This is not my Judaism.” That is deeply charged language. One may believe that a particular policy or attitude is severely morally or halachically flawed. But no single flaw, however central or painful, renders an entire religious community or lifestyle illegitimate. Every community has shortcomings that require criticism and correction.

To find consensus, we must get on the same page. We must also be careful about the language and rhetoric we use.

Words That Wound

Two weeks ago, a busload of Chasidim attacked the home of my neighbor, a Supreme Court justice whom they viewed as an enemy of Torah study because of his role in rulings surrounding this controversy. I know him personally and can attest that this is a complete misunderstanding of his intentions. One can argue that his rulings will inadvertently harm the Charedi community. But to portray him as someone motivated by hostility to Torah is a profound misreading.

The protest itself turned violent. The protesters shouted at the judge and at our neighbors, repeatedly calling them Nazis. One of my neighbors, a child of Holocaust survivors, was called Hitler.

It should be self-evident that any Jew who labels another Jew a Nazi has lost all historical perspective. The grandparents of both groups may well have shared the same ghettos and concentration camps. In a society of divided narratives in which even the role of the State of Israel is not a matter of consensus, the last shared historical narrative we possess is our recovery from the Holocaust. Sadly, these terms are being shouted by Chasidim whose own communities were disproportionately devastated by Hitler.

To begin healing our fractures, we must properly read intentions and be careful about the historically toxic language we employ. We must repair our communication. 

Rabbi Moshe Taragin is a rabbi and educator at Yeshivat Har Etzion in Israel. His latest book, Reclaiming Redemption, Volume II: Faith, Identity, Peoplehood and the Storms of War, is available at www.mtaraginbooks.com.