Image: Two peach-colored roses. (reinbacher/pixabay)
This is a sermon I delivered at at Israel Congregation of Manchester, Vermont on Shabbat morning, June 21, 2014. It is intended to be heard rather than read, so I have left it in my “sermon format” to give readers a better sense of how it sounded. The occasion was the aufruf of Yuval Sela and Rabbi David Novak.
The fact that the reading of Parashat Korach usually falls in the month of June is evidence that God has an annoying sense of humor.
Here we are, a congregation gathered from the four corners of the world to celebrate a wedding, a covenant of love, in the month traditional for weddings, and what are we reading in the Torah?
How can we possibly speak of Korach and at the same time, speak of love?
Korach is the disgruntled relative at the wedding.
Korach stood at Sinai, at the wedding of God and Israel and seethed because he felt slighted.
Korach dealt with his troubles not by talking quietly and directly to Moses or to God, but by gossiping with the neighbors, working himself and them up into a fury.
Korach is the one with legitimate questions and hurt feelings who in his unhappiness stirred up an entire community and brought them to disaster.
And yet here we are, talking about Korach.
As with all of Torah, there is always more to notice.
Dr. Jacob Milgrom, in his commentary on the book of Numbers writes that the theme of Parashat Korach is “encroachment upon the Tabernacle.” He suggests that the real issue here are the boundaries of the Tabernacle, and the boundaries on the behavior of those who guard it.
The Tabernacle, the Mishkan, stands at the center of this Torah portion as surely as it stood in the center of the camp of the Israelites.
They had built it according to God’s command,
Va’asu li mikdash, v’shochanti b’tocham (Exodus 25:8)
“Let them Build me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them.”
The Mishkan, the Tabernacle, is that dwelling place. It is not a house for God – God needed no house and certainly could fit into no container. God cannot be put in a box.
The Mishkan is instead a visible sign for the Israelites of the covenant, the Brit, between the People Israel and God.
It stands at the center of the camp, because the Brit itself is at the center of the relationship between God and Israel.
Although it is referred to most often as Ohel Moed, the Tent of Meeting, it is much more than a tent. It is a complex of concentric walls forming an outer shrine and an inner tent, the Kodesh Kodeshim, the Holy of Holies, in which the Ark of the Covenant was placed.
From the point of view of the average Israelite, the Mishkan must have been much more than a Dwelling, an address for God.
It was the container for unimaginable Power.
It was the locus of the Kavod Adonai, usually translated as the Presence or the Glory of God.
At this point in the narrative, as the story of Korach begins, there has already been one disaster at the Mishkan, a disaster with fatalities.
Just after their ordination as Kohanim, two of the sons of Aaron, Nadav and Abihu got all excited and made an offering before the Mishkan. It was a youthful improvisation, a fire that had not been commanded by God,
an Esh Zara, a strange fire.
And to the horror of those watching, the Fire of God rushed out from the Mishkan and
v’tochal otam – it consumed them – it ate them up.
So from the point of view of the average Israelite, the Mishkan was likely both a sign of joy, a sign of the covenant and the protection of God, and a fearsome locus of unpredictable power.
That thing could kill you.
But Korach was no ordinary Israelite.
He was a Levite, and a prince among the Levites, a close relative of Aaron and Moses. He was sure of his merit, of his fitness to stand before the Mishkan with incense in his firepan.
So when Moses responds to Korach’s challenge by saying,
“Come to the Tent of Meeting with a fire pan and incense and fire, and bring your 250 followers with you with fire pans of their own” Korach did not blink.
He showed up, with 250 followers and the fire pans and the fire, and as we know from the portion, it ended in disaster.
Korach and his followers were swallowed by the earth, a terrifying sign of the disapproval of God. Fire again came forth from the Mishkan, and there were fatalities.
And it did not end there. The people were angry with Moses, God was angry with the people, and there were more deaths, more disaster before the narrative finally closes.
When it was all done, the Israelites were terrified of the Mishkan.
So as often happens in the Torah, a passage of narrative is followed by a passage full of commandments. God gives Israel a set of commandments for guarding the Mishkan and for the job descriptions and perquisites for its keepers, the Kohanim and the Levites.
But what can any of this have to do with Love?
The Mishkan was a visible sign of the covenant between God and Israel.
Again and again in our tradition, human love is held up as an analogy of that covenant. The entire book of Song of Songs, a book of love poetry, is traditionally interpreted as an account of the love between God and Israel. Hosea the prophet spoke of love and its disappointments,and many medieval piyyutim, liturgical poems, illustrate the bond between God and Israel as bonds of love.
That analogy holds up because Love is not the sweet, sugary, hearts and roses thing that sells on Valentine’s Day.
Real love between human beings is sweet, but it is also powerful. It can be terrifying to truly love another person, to feel that your destiny is no longer yours alone, but is joined with another.
Ask any love struck adolescent about the delightful lure of love.
Ask any lovers.
And ask any poet, any cop, any divorce attorney about love’s destructive potential.
Like the Power that dwelt within the ancient Mishkan enclosure, love has the power to transform, to do miracles, to break hearts, to heal or to wreck lives.
All love has this power: love between parent and child and love between friends,
but especially the love that transforms two separate people into one flesh, one heart, one household.
We are gathered here this weekend to build a dwelling for the love between David and Yuval.
They will set boundaries according to the laws of Moses, and the laws of the state of Vermont.
This dwelling, this mishkan, this marriage will be a sign of their covenant.
It will be at the center of their camp, their home.
All of us who are married, or who have been married know that simply building the mishkan is just the beginning. The covenant of marriage is a covenant between two people who do not know what lies ahead, what joys, what sorrows.
But at the heart of their home they have this covenant, this dwelling place for the power of love between them as they travel through the midbar, the wilderness of life.
It is up to the married couple to live out the details of the covenant, to faithfully observe its upkeep, just as the ancient Kohanim and Levites kept up with the details and routine of the Mishkan.
It us up to all of us, their family and friends and community to honor this marriage that is about to be,to respect its boundaries, and to respect the power of the love that dwells within it.
Let Korach be a warning to us all about the consequences of encroachment upon the tabernacle, about the necessity of boundaries and about the power of holiness.
May David and Yuval’s home always be a sanctuary.
May this mishkan, this dwelling place, this covenant that they are building hold up against the vicissitudes of a crazy world.
And may each of us find our own home in the camp of Israel: Married and single, gay and straight, old and young let us live out our destiny to become a holy people,
A people with God in our hearts.
9 thoughts on “Korach at the Wedding”
Wonderful sermon, Rabbi Ruth. Is this the David Novak who was your classmate in Jerusalem? Whose blog I followed – erm – religiously? If so, please convey my congratulations to the happy couple.
One and the same, bratschegirl! I will do that.
Kol hakavod, dear friend!
Yasher koach!! It is a wonderful stash and it was wonderful to hear you speak it!
Thank you for the kind words AND for the entertaining typo! (Hey, at least it wasn’t “trash!”)
What a beautiful couple, and a beautiful wedding. I’m still kvelling!
I went to Romemu in Manhattan onShabbat and the rabbi did a neat little rash. He said that Moses’ falling down and asking to wait is usually construed as weakness but it can be read as much needed respect tolerance for even scary oppositional views. (He did not, however, address HaShem’s smiting role in the story.)
I have always suspected that Moses falls on his face when he needs a moment to think.
Romemu in Manhattan? Sounds very interesting.