How are we to know that when we are doing something noble and kind, that our actions might be perceived by others to be self-serving, done because of our ego, and others believe we are only doing so to boost our own self-worth? More so, how are we to ascertain true motivation in someone else?
In this week’s Torah portion, Korach, we read about Korach, the man who challenged Moses’ and Aaron’s appointment as the leaders of the Jewish people. To glimpse into his confrontation with them, let’s take a step back. Korach’s challenge couldn’t have been just about leadership or even motivated by jealousy. There had to be something much more fundamental going on.
Korach viewed the world from a very different perspective than Moses, which led him to come to a different result. How did they differ?
Let’s start with a general premise.
Thought often leads to speech, which in turn leads to action. When it comes to our connection with G-d, this could be interpreted as when learning Torah, thought and speech should lead to the performance of the Mitzvot. However, we don’t want the Mitzvot to be forced upon us—we don’t want to feel obligated to perform a Mitzvah, rather, we want to be inspired to do one. That is why learning the background, the reasons, and their history, is an integral part of the preparation. Only once we have this background information do we come to the practice – the action.
It is not only important that this inspiration comes from within ourselves, but it is also imperative that we then go from thought to action. What transpired at Mount Sinai was that G-d gave us – for the very first time – the ability to lift ourselves up, to elevate the physical and make us more spiritual. To bridge our action from the speech, and before that, the thought levels.
Using Hebrew letters to explain this idea, let us look at the letter Hey. It is written with three lines. Two are connected to each other. These two lines represent thought and speech, two of the more spiritual elements, since they are non-tangible. The third line, the free leg, represents action. This independent line is written at the same level as the other one on the bottom, yet it doesn’t reach the same height as the one at the top. This balancing act of constantly reaching higher, trying to connect to a more spiritual counterpart but still not connecting, yet not removing itself from the spiritual, either. This symmetry of action is what Judaism is all about. And our desire to reach higher.
Korach missed this lesson on all fronts. His name is made up of three letters, all close to the Hey, but none of them Hey: Kuf, Reish and Chet. Each of these letters is similar, yet somehow different. The Kuf’s third line stands alone but is longer. In the Reish, the third line is missing, but in the Chet, it is connected. When the Kuf’s leg goes below the line, Korach is signaling that his action, his Mitzvot, can be fulfilled independently of connection to thought, meaning that he doesn’t have to have love for, or be in awe of, G-d. He can just draw G-d down to his level without trying to lift himself higher. The Reish represents the idea that no action is necessary, as if he is saying he can connect to G-d with prayer alone—just in the spiritual realm—so why even bring the physical world into the picture? Then we have the Chet. The Chet’s third line is connected to the other two. This was Korach’s third perspective. He felt that he had already reached the “priesthood” and was already connected, so there was no need to lift himself any higher, as he already made it.
Seeing Korach from this perspective can help us understand that this is much more than jealousy. When a person is so focused on themselves that they cannot even see what G-d wants from them, all they see is how they are at the center of the universe.
We can take a lesson on how we should try to balance this third line. How to always see ourselves and our actions in the balance. Not too high and not too low. Always striving to reach higher and knowing that it is we who must make the effort to reach higher.