By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
EL CAJON, California — In the array of Torah portions, only five stand out by bearing the names of individuals: Noach, Yitro, Korach, Balak, and Pinchas. Each of these names carries weight, representing figures who shaped the course of Jewish history. But among them, Korach’s tale has long been a cautionary one, a blueprint for how not to lead. This d’var Torah is not about politics…it is about the psychology of leadership through the lens of Torah.
As we delve deeper into this week’s parsha Korach, the narrative begins with Korach’s fiery challenge to Moses and Aaron: “madua titnasu al kahal ado-nai” – “Why have you lifted yourselves up above the congregation of the Lord?” These words, once seen as mere rebellion, echo through the lens of psychology, with the pain of a man grappling with complex emotions. When we investigate the mindset of those who appear to be troublemakers, we often see one who is troubled, angry, insecure, envious.
Korach was the crème de la crème of Jewish society, a top-ten contender in the “Who’s Who” of Israelite VIPs. Born into the illustrious tribe of Levi, Korach had hit the genetic jackpot. His people were the chosen among the chosen, tasked with shouldering the literal weight of the divine – lugging the Mishkan (the portable sanctuary) across the unforgiving desert landscape. Talk about a heavy responsibility!
But for Korach, this wasn’t enough to satisfy his ever-growing appetite for importance. Being part of an elite squad dedicated to sacred duty? Pfft. Child’s play. Having a direct line to the divine? Boring. A position that set him apart from the masses? Please, he needed more, more, MORE!
Imagine being handed a golden ticket and complaining it’s not platinum. That was Korach in a nutshell. His dissatisfaction bubbled and boiled, a cauldron of ambition and discontent that would eventually overflow, scalding not just himself but those around him.
Korach’s tale serves as a stark reminder that sometimes, the most dangerous hunger isn’t for food or water, but for power and prestige. It begs the question: When is enough truly enough? And, at what point does ambition cross the line into destructive greed?
The Midrash Tanchuma offers a fascinating insight into Korach’s psyche. As a fellow Levite, Korach shared bloodlines with Moses and Aaron. This connection, rather than bringing unity, fueled a deep-seated envy. He watched as his cousins ascended to the pinnacle of both religious and secular authority, leaving him in their shadow. What was Korach saying about himself when he was criticizing Moshe and Aaron? I believe he was saying, “It’s all about me.” The parsha begins with “Vayikach Korach,” and Korach took. He was a taker, not a giver. Korach’s name points to the coldness of his heart, lacking the warmth of Torah. It has the same Hebrew letters as the word for “ice,” “kerach.”
This perspective invites us to reconsider Korach not as a one-dimensional villain, but as a deeply flawed, painfully human character. His story becomes a meditation on ambition, jealousy, and the corrosive effects of perceived injustice. It challenges us to examine our own reactions when we feel overlooked or undervalued.
By reframing Korach’s rebellion, we unlock new layers of meaning in this week’s reading. It becomes a mirror, reflecting our own struggles with authority, fairness, and the often-blurry line between righteous indignation and destructive anger.
Imagine a force so potent it can transform wisdom into folly, reason into madness. This, Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz argues, is the raw power of our hunger for honor and respect.
We learn in Igerres HaRamban, The Ramban’s Letter, “And now my son, understand and observe that whoever feels that he is greater than others, is rebelling against the Kingship of Hashem, because he is adorning himself with His garments, as it is written (Tehillim 93:1), “Hashem reigns, He wears clothes of pride.” Why should one feel proud? Is it because of wealth? Hashem makes one poor or rich (Shmuel 2:7). Is it because of honor? It belongs to Hashem, as we read (Divrei Hayamim 29:12), “Wealth and honor come from You.” So how could one adorn himself with Hashem’s honor? And one who is proud of his wisdom surely knows that Hashem “takes away the speech of assured men and reasoning from the sages” (Iyov 12:20)!? So, we see that everyone is the same before Hashem, since with His anger He lowers the proud and when He wishes He raises the low. So lower yourself and Hashem will lift you up!”
This letter was sent by the Ramban from his city to his son in Catalonia, regarding the act of humility. We are taught to read this once every week and to teach it to others as well, and to learn it by heart…imagine if Korach did so?
Korach’s tale isn’t just ancient history—it’s a mirror reflecting our deepest, often unacknowledged desires. Here was a man of status, surrounded by followers, yet consumed by an insatiable appetite for more. This craving didn’t just cloud his judgment; it obliterated it.
Picture tightrope walkers, normally graceful and sure-footed. Now imagine them attempting their act while intoxicated. That’s the effect of unchecked ambition—it makes the perilous seem possible, the absurd seem logical.
Korach and his followers weren’t fools by nature. But their thirst for fame acted like a potent drug, short-circuiting their common sense and leading them to catastrophic choices.
In the crucible of the desert, two contrasting models of leadership emerge for us to absorb, each revealing profound truths about the human psyche and spiritual growth.
Moses, our teacher notes, carried himself with nobility – not for self-aggrandizement, but as a vessel for divine purpose. Rabbi Meshullam Feibush paints a portrait of a leader wrestling with his calling, initially resisting out of deep-seated humility. This internal struggle, far from weakening Moses, became the foundation of his strength.
Imagine a man so in tune with his own limitations that he initially balks at the role thrust upon him. This is Moses – a leader whose power flows not from ego, but from a profound connection to something greater than himself.
Korach, in stark contrast, becomes a tale of projection and unexamined inner turmoil. Unable to reconcile greatness with humility in his own psyche, he projects his internal conflict onto Moses. His envy acts as a distorting lens, twisting his perception until virtue appears as vice. The Talmud states, “One who seeks to disqualify another, projects his own defects upon him.” (Babylonian Talmud, Kiddushin 70a). The founder of Chassidism, Rabbi Yisrael ben Eliezer, the Baal Shem Tov, brought the analogy of a mirror. The world, he observed, is like a mirror. When we behave critically towards others, we are simply seeing our own reflections.
This psychological insight offers a spiritual challenge: Can we recognize our own ‘Korach moments’ – times when our unacknowledged shadows color our judgment of others? Can we cultivate the humility of Moses, allowing us to lead or follow from a place of authentic service rather than ego-driven ambition?
In this ancient drama, we find a timeless invitation to self-reflection and spiritual growth, reminding us that true power often lies in the ability to confront our own hearts with humility, honesty and courage. In our era of viral fame and instant celebrities, Korach’s cautionary tale hits uncomfortably close to home. It challenges us to ask: What risky tightropes are we walking in our own quests for recognition?
Through SOcial MEdia, many seek self-aggrandizement, self-glorification, and self-promotion. Indeed, becoming “influencers,” seeking “likes,” glory at the expense of others, are all too common in our current instant online world. When we do so, we erroneously believe we “are better than others.” Instead, we lower ourselves…and cause harm to others. By following the example of Moses, once again, seeking to understand another before responding, being willing to fall on our faces so to speak, we might just be hearing the words of Hashem. When we take three steps backwards when we say, “Oseh shalom” praying for peace at the conclusion of the Amidah and Kaddish, stop to consider that this symbolizes how to step away from an opponent and instead to seek compromise. Not doing so may lead to catastrophic consequences of disunity and strife.
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun.
And not once was Donald Trump mentioned.