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On Violence, Passion and PeaceShabbat Pinchas 5764July 9, 2004Rabbi Samuel M. Cohon As Andrea has made clear so beautifully in her drash tonight, our portion of Pinchas on this Shabbat has a controversial premise: a man who acts in a violent way, no better really than a vigilante, is rewarded by God with an eternal covenant of shalom. There is something troubling about this incident, something distinctly not Jewish in the way an act of extreme violence is celebrated and honored. What meaning lies within the story and its conclusion? You may know
the events: the young, hot-blooded priest Pinchas, a younger son of Aaron the
High Priest, sees gross immorality and pagan worship going on at the door of
the very Tabernacle of holiness, the Tent of Meeting. The degenerate offender is a prince, while his consort is a
pagan priestess and the daughter of an enemy noble.
As the elect of Israel stand by in shocked immobility, Pinchas acts.
Outraged by the desecration and sacrilege, he picks up a spear and
impales the culprits in full view of Moses and Aaron and the elders, all the
leaders of the people of Israel. Instead
of clapping Pinchas in irons and sending him off for trial as a killer, God
decrees that he is to be immediately rewarded with a permanent, lifetime
portion as an honored priest, with the job to pass down to his sons in
perpetuity. His own future and
that of his family are now guaranteed forever, apparently just because he has
taken this one vicious act. There are many potential
explanations for this seeming contradiction: it is wartime—the Israelites
are beginning a war against their enemies from Midian and Moab that will last
for many generations and hundreds of years, and Pinchas’ act apparently
stops a potentially devastating and treasonous defection by some of the
tribes. All’s fair in love and
war, right? And while Moses and
the leaders of the people—the elders, sort of the board of directors of the
Israelites—seem powerless to stop this process, a young, passionate man has
the courage to step forward against the galloping moral outrages and, by
opposing, end them. But as Jews
we must feel that there is something troubling about giving such a blanket
commendation where we would expect condemnation.
Don’t we constantly strive to inculcate values that shape our
children, and ourselves, in a very different way? The Judaism we know and love, while not a pacifist faith, nonetheless preaches and prays for peace constantly. We are told to be like the disciples of Aaron, seeking peace and pursuing it—becoming ohev shalom v’rodef shalom—and every single prayer service, no matter how brief, includes not one but two separate prayers for peace, either Shalom Rav or Sim Shalom and Oseh Shalom. Is this merely lip service? Are we like the words of Jeremiah, saying shalom shalom—v’ein shalom, peace, peace—when there is no peace? I believe the key to understanding this story, and its denouement, lie in the very berit, the covenantal promise that God gives to Pinchas. The reward, remember, for a man who has acted as judge, jury, and executioner, the Clint Eastwood of the Torah, is not material wealth or political or social leadership. The reward is to take the speak out of his hand, and replace it with a priest’s shechitah knife, to turn the justified butcher of two human criminals into a ritual butcher of sacrificial animals destined for the sacred barbecue. In other words, by sublimating the righteous wrath of this most violent of kohanim and directing it towards the performance of strictly mandated symbolic and practical work, God is both controlling that dangerous streak of harsh retribution and directing it towards the pursuit of unity and completion through a ritual of worship. Pinchas will never again have the opportunity to life a spear in anger, nor will any of his children, grandchildren, or later descendants be called upon—indeed, allowed—to wield weapons of war. It’s a singularly clever, penetrating, even ironic kind of reward. The one who sought violence now must serve only peace. Still, why is there no trial here for Pinchas, as the newly minted code of Torah law would seem to demand? What was there about his actions that allowed him to skate to some degree? What other message is being conveyed to us today? Perhaps it is this. That there are times when injustice and outrage must be met by something more than deliberate process, when the act of a lone man or woman can truly change the course of history, and save an entire people from going the wrong direction. Clearly, the Torah thinks that the future of monotheism is at stake if a powerful prince can flout the moral and ethical standards of God and the people of Israel and no one will stand against him. And so even a hot-head like Pinchas can be right to rise against evil. Even a minority of one can speak up, stand up, and fight the blatantly wrong. The message is more explicit even than that: when there is a wrong to right, each of us can, indeed should, have Pinchas’ courage to step forward and fight for what we believe in, although we ought not to imitate his methodology… The French poet Emmanuel Eydoux expressed it well: To open eyes when others close them To hear when others do not wish to listen To look when others turn away To seek to understand when others give up To rouse yourself when others give up To continue to struggle when you are not the strongest To cry out when others are silent. To be a Jew It is that It is first of all that There are wrongs to right in our world. There are desecrations committed in the name of our faith even here in Tucson. There are reasons to care, to act, to work to change what is wrong and make it right. And it is profoundly, fundamentally Jewish to seek to do exactly that. Now, as to methods… No Reform rabbi I know would recommend you pick up a spear and run people through—we are not encouraging bending plowshares into swords, at least not most of us even in these hotly charged times of war and propaganda and controversy. But this portion of the Torah, and, I suppose, this rabbi, profoundly believe that if religion is to have meaning it must also have backbone, and the courage of its convictions. I urge you to choose a cause, a Jewish cause, an ethical cause that has your heart and that forces you to use your mind, as well. Make it your own. Become passionate, even irrationally devoted to it. Can one person make a difference? Oh, yes. You, personally, can make a difference. Pinchas did, in his clumsy, brutal way. You and I have the advantage of his lesson to learn from. We can effect change for the good without necessarily violating any of the Ten Commandments. Robert Kennedy once said: It is from the numberless acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a [man] person stands up for an idea or acts to improve the lot of others or strikes out against injustice he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of opposition and resistance. So it will prove to be for you, personally, if you make this choice. Be like the disciples of Aaron, yes—but remember that Pinchas, too was a disciple of Aaron. Pursue peace, or justice, or goodness, but do it with passion. Ken yehi ratson. |
