Timeless Torah

Love is blind. But then, so is hate. Indeed, any emotion allowed to run amok distorts one’s perspective. Korach, the brilliant and wealthy cousin of Moses who led a popular rebellion challenging the accepted leadership, unfortunately proved this only too well. Simply put, ego trumps principle.
Nonetheless, power hungry Korach was not stupid. Even a blind man knows you do not contest Moses alone. You bring backup. So the smooth talking demagogue riled up 250 prominent leaders to join the revolt and question the process of how the priestly positions were arrived at.
But Moses was already an old hand in dealing with troublemakers. So he gave them an offer they could refuse, hoping they would back off gracefully. All 250 machers, meaning the big-shots, were on the following day to offer the k’tores, a combination of spices and fragrances. This incense was highly potent. Indeed, such illustrious personalities as Nadav and Avihu, sons of Aaron the High Priest himself, had once presented the very same. I say once, because they were dead before the proverbial (incense) smoke had cleared.
Obviously, this was dangerous stuff. For all we know, its package perhaps read, “Do not try this at home.” But whatever warnings were clearly stated or even merely implied, a successfully completed k’tores offering at least proved who the real McKoyhen was.
What is of special interest are the words of Moses who addressed Korach and his assembly, “In the morning G-d... will draw him close to Himself, and whomever He will choose, He will draw close to Himself.” (Numbers 16:5) The double expression, “draw him close” is strange. Equally bizarre is the phrase, “Whomever He will choose, He will draw close.” Isn’t that obvious?
In the mid 1800’s, Rabbi Avraham Shmuel of Aishishok served as the Rav of Rassein, Lithuania. Being a brilliant scholar and the celebrated author of the Amudei Aish, the community revered and afforded him the utmost respect. Unfortunately, the Czarist government of that era appointed their own lackey, a puppet of the state known as Rav Mitaam. This ‘Rabbi’ served as the official liaison to the Government, and any authorized ‘Jewish’ business went through him. Unfortunately for Rabbi Mitaam, the townsfolk knew of his limited capabilities, and treated him accordingly. It was therefore not surprising that he was delegated a seat in the middle of the congregation near the Bimah as opposed to the traditional rabbinic place up front near the Holy Ark.
But one week Rabbi Mitaam decided to outsmart the community. Jealous of the honor freely given to Rabbi Avraham Shmuel, one Shabbos he woke up early and came to shul before anyone else and appropriated the Rabbi’s seat next to the Holy Ark. There he sat smug and safely ensconced, knowing full well that no one would had the nerve to say anything for fear of government reprisal.
In those years, just prior to the Musaf, all congregations throughout Russia would recite a special prayer on behalf of the Government and Czar Nikolai. That week the cantor forgot to say the prayer. Whether this was an orchestrated ploy or a lapse in memory, to this day is unknown. But what occurred afterwards is clear. A former soldier, captured as a youngster and forced to serve in the Czar’s army for many years, (these Jewish soldiers were called Cantonists) jumped up from his seat, charged the government rabbi and began hitting him quite forcefully.
“What kind of Rabbi are you!” he shouted. “How dare you allow the chazan to forget the prayer on behalf of our benevolent leader? I served the Czar faithfully for twenty years and you forget to bless him?!” Other congregants joined the fray, some trying to separate the elderly soldier from the beleaguered rabbi, others getting in the blows they had always longed for.
Soon the police arrived and arrested the soldier. But even as he was being dragged out of the synagogue, he hollered, “After serving the czar for two decades, I will not allow this poor excuse for a rabbi, to belittle the dignity of His Majesty!” The local policeman was truly in a quandary. How could he decide the fate of the soldier who struck a government official, to defend the honor of the Czar? Ultimately, the case was brought to the Governor General of the region who asked the ‘rabbi’ to defend his inaction. “You see,” stammered Rabbi Mitaam, “I truly did not hear the chazan at the bimah skip the prayer. After all, I was sitting next to the Holy Ark all the way up front!
A decision was reached. No more would the official Rabbi be allowed to sit up front. From now on, he would sit amongst the people to make sure that all the prayers were said correctly. People may feel that they are holy. But sitting near the ark doesn’t reflect your spiritual place. At the end of the day, only He who knows the true spirit of each man’s heart will choose whom to draw close. Korach reminds us of the story of the chazzan who thinks he’s the Rabbi...the Rabbi who thinks he’s the President, and of course, the President who thinks he’s the Creator! So though we all have a place in Hashem’s heart, only He decides our position in His hierarchy. And should our ego make us lose sight, He will choose again, in such a way that we won’t forget our place.