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The Art of Sacred Disagreement: The Case of Korach

  • Writer: Rabbi Amy Eilberg
    Rabbi Amy Eilberg
  • Jun 29
  • 4 min read

The first question typically asked about the conflict of Korach with Moses is, “What did Korach do that was so terribly wrong? All he did was call for democratic rule!”


The text tells us that Korach and his allies, accompanied by an impressive 250 reputable chieftains of the Israelite community, rose up against Moses and cried out, “You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and God is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above God’s congregation?” (Numbers 16:3)


At first glance, Korach and his allies seem to have a reasonable complaint. If everyone in the community is holy, with God in their midst, by what right has Moses stepped in as the leader of the people? Read in contemporary context, this seems to be a call for democratic rule, accusing Moses of presumptuous, autocratic rule over the people. Why can’t decisions be made together, by everyone?


Of course, the obvious answer to this question, in the Torah’s context, is that God named Moses as the leader. Moses, in fact, had begged God not to choose him. God had cajoled Moses to step up into leadership. Moses reluctantly agreed.


But there are many other layers of meaning to the story.


The classical commentaries regard Korach as an egotist, a person driven by pride and ambition, concerned only for his own needs and desires, not for the greater good. In fact, Korach’s challenge to Moses is immortalized in rabbinic literature as the exemplar of “machloket shelo l’shem shamayim” — “disagreement that is not for the sake of heaven” — that is, unholy and dysfunctional argument. 


That is why Korach and his allies are punished so spectacularly, with the ground literally opening up beneath them and swallowing them up. They are punished, publicly and dramatically, and remembered as archetypes of envy and egotism and of prioritizing personal needs over the common good.


I have spent many years teaching Jewish communities how to practice the art of “machloket l’shem shamayim,” or disagreements conducted with mutual respect, genuine curiosity, caring for the relationship with “the other side” and attending to the greater good. The sages teach that the practice of “sacred disagreement” requires an intention to seek truth (rather than victory or personal aggrandizement), willingness to be persuaded, recognition that contrasting ideas can both be true, an attitude of humility and kindness, and a capacity to feel humanly connected to the other party in the discussion.


It occurs to me that Korach’s punishment is truly remarkable precisely because most of us have at least a bit of Korach within us.


Who among us does not sometimes find ourselves driven in arguments by a desire to win, to prove the other wrong, to show off our superior knowledge and debating skill? Especially in identity-driven issues, we experience the other side’s claims as attacks not only on our own worldview but on our personhood. How could someone possibly think or say such a thing? (This may be even more intense when the “other” is a loved one or a member of our own community.) The very existence of the opposing view is an outrage, a threat to how we believe the world should be. 


We feel attacked by their position, especially if they articulate it strongly and effectively. In such a situation, if we are mindful enough to notice what is going on in our bodies, we may notice that our fists have clenched, our heart is pounding and our thoughts are racing at a dizzying pace. In other words, although the “attack” we are facing is a rhetorical one, our body has moved into fight/flight mode and is preparing to protect us from mortal threat. That’s when we and others fly into rhetorical combat, including aggressive language and ad hominem attacks.


Obviously, we live in a time of intense ideological polarization. Outrage is everywhere, and the sensations I described above may occur every day when consuming the news. That is, Korach’s evil inclinations are everywhere, including in ourselves. What are we to do to avoid the sins of Korach?


Much as I love the tradition’s rich teachings on sacred disagreement, I am not sure that I have “the answer” to the problem of aggressive rhetoric and hateful speech in our time. But what is clear is that Jewish tradition requires us to recognize the humanity in the person on “the other side.” The person who holds a vastly different political belief is not a monster, but is human just as we are. That person may be as incredulous at our beliefs as we are at theirs.


I am personally very active in expressing my political views in the public square at a time when some of my most deeply held values are endangered. I have not been able to cultivate a sense of love for the person on the other side, as traditional sources require. But I do quite intentionally stop myself if I find myself wishing personal harm to political leaders or to voters whose positions I find abhorrent. My practice is to regularly remind myself that the people on the other side are human, created in the image of the Divine, just like me. In doing so, I am falling short of the high aspiration of “sacred disagreement,” but it is what I can do right now.


 
 
 

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© 2014 by Rabbi Amy Eilberg

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