Just when you think the priesthood and its order has finally and firmly established itself, along comes Korah son of Yitzhar son of Kohat son of Levi, and some other guys from the tribe of Reuvein, to lead 250 men of the community in rebellion against Mosheh. They present themselves before Mosheh and Aharon and state their case: Everyone in this community is holy. God is in the midst of all of us. How dare you raise yourself up above us?

This is a good question. It’s a question I think every practitioner of householder spirituality has. It’s certainly one I have wrestled with constantly, one I have lobbed at many authorities in my life, and one on which many people have designated me as their wrestling partner. But I think it hits especially hard in the Torah, here in the Speaking Place, where the entire community witnessed God together. That’s the constitutional event of this people, not some solitary prophecy brandished by one person but a communal revelation.

Sure, that which was revealed included a divinely elected leader and a hereditary priesthood and a whole hierarchical order of operations, but that doesn’t override the people’s own sovereignty. Indeed, the priests have to be careful not to think too highly of themselves — and too lowly of the people by comparison — or else… well, this will happen.

Mosheh’s reaction to Korah’s complaint is to fall on his face — that is, to grieve. Mosheh has been tired of the obstinacy of the people he was chosen to lead this entire time, and more than once he has let his feelings of resistance get the better of him. He has wrestled with God repeatedly on this, and it’s only getting worse.

But by the time Mosheh gets up, he has taken Korah’s rebellion as a challenge. The Torah is going to give us another installment of its most exciting genre: a good ol’ magic fight.

Mosheh tells Korah and his men that God will make clear by tomorrow morning who exactly is allowed to come close. Korah and the rebels are to take fire pans and offer incense before God tomorrow, and whoever God chooses will be shown as holy. Then he admonishes them, pointing out that they are “sons of Levi,” i.e. the tribe whose job it is to be caretakers and ministers of the priestly facilities. Mosheh contends that they should be happy with this lot; they are already designated as special to God. Why should they crave more? What has humble Aharon done to deserve this challenge?

Then Mosheh sends for Datan and Aviram, Korah’s lieutenants, and they refuse to come. They refuse by exemplifying the complaint of which Mosheh is surely most tired by now, which is that they consider Mosheh’s authority moot because he led them out of a place where they had plenty — slavery notwithstanding — and into the middle of nowhere. Moreover, even if he had led them to a new promised land of plenty, they would still refuse to let him lord it over them.

Mosheh rolls his eyes, turns aside to God, and says, “You know I haven’t taken anything from these people or wronged them in any way. I hope you’ll ignore the offering they’re about to give you tomorrow.”

Mosheh lays out the challenge one more time: Korah and his 250-odd men are each, individually, to offer incense in their fire pans before God tomorrow, and Aharon and his priestly sons are, too. The next morning, as instructed, they all take their places at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting and light their incense.

The Divine Presence then appears to them all, and God tells Mosheh and Aharon to stand back, for God is about to annihilate the whole congregation in an instant.

Once again, the human leaders in the Torah have to beg God to be a little more precise with God’s wrath. “אֵ֕ל אֱלֹהֵ֥י הָרוּחֹ֖ת לְכׇל־בָּשָׂ֑ר,” they cry out — “God, God of the breath of all flesh! When one member sins, will you really be wrathful with the whole community?”

In response, God says to Mosheh, “Tell the whole community to stand back from the abodes of Korah, Datan, and Aviram.” Mosheh delivers the warning as instructed. Datan and Aviram come out to the entrance of their tents with their wives and their children, grown and small alike. Mosheh speaks to them: “Here’s how you will know God sides with me on this: If these people die in an ordinary manner, it was not God who sent me. If, however, something truly unheard-of happens — like, for example, the ground opens its mouth and swallows them along with all their possessions, and they go down to Sheol (the underworld) alive, just for the sake of argument — that’s how you know this was punishment for spurning God.”

This exact thing happens the moment Mosheh finishes speaking, of course. The Earth opens and swallows up the rebels’ families and possessions and closes over their heads. Then, as the rest of the community flees in terror, fire consumes the 250 rebels in an instant, rejecting their offerings of incense.

God then tells Mosheh to instruct El’azar, son of Aharon, to remove the fire pans from amongst the charred remains of the rebels — for the pans have become holy now — and to scatter the coals around. Then hammer the pans into sheets and make plating for the altar out of them, and let them serve as a warning to the people of Yisra’el that no one but the descendants of Aharon is to make offerings at the altar. El’azar does as instructed.

The people gather and rail against Mosheh and Aharon the next day, saying they have brought death upon God’s people. Mosheh and Aharon turn again to the cloud of God’s Presence at the Tent of Meeting for guidance, and again God tells them to stand back, for God is about to annihilate the community instantaneously. And again, they fall on their faces in mourning.

This time, Mosheh instructs Aharon to intervene by making an incense offering — a proper, priestly one — to make expiation for the people. Already, a plague is spreading among them, but Aharon runs into the middle with his fire pan, standing between the dead and the living to hold back the plague with his offering. In the end, 14,700 people die — not counting those who followed Korah — but Aharon’s priestly heroism spares the rest.

As often happens after one of these incidents, God’s next step is to instruct Mosheh in some preventative ritual measure to ensure whatever just happened doesn’t happen again. This time, the instruction is to procure one staff for each tribal chieftain — 12 staves in all — each inscribed with that chieftain’s name. On the staff from Levi, Aharon’s name should also be inscribed. Mosheh is to bring all the staves to the Tent of Meeting. God will cause one staff to sprout like a living branch, and this, somehow, will rid God of all the Israelites’ incessant mutterings against Mosheh.

Mosheh does as God instructed, and, naturally, it is the staff of the tribe of Levi, with Aharon’s name on it, that sprouts. In fact, it produces blossoms and then almonds (שקדים). Mosheh then returns the staves to the chieftains, who take them back, but God tells Mosheh to place the blooming staff of Aharon back into the Tent of Meeting and place it before the Ark as a lesson to the rebels. This is a pretty neat trick, and much nicer than consuming people alive in sinkholes, but the people continue to wail and mourn, sure that they will die if they so much as approach the Mishkan. So even though the rebellion has been put down, the people still feel more distant from God than they believe they should be.

God follows up with some new guidelines and clarifications for the priesthood which should help establish closeness and kinship between the hereditary line of Aharon — with their sacred duties — and the broader tribe of Levi, who minister to the priesthood and the sanctuary. God makes clear that any infractions concerning the Mishkan are the priests’ ultimate responsibility, and that the priests are to always remain in relationship with their tribespeople despite their specialized status. The Levi’im serve the kohanim ritually, but that doesn’t mean the priests should consider themselves distinct from their tribe. Perhaps this will serve to lower the social temperature and prevent future uprisings. Still, God reminds everyone, only the priests are to do the actual offering part, and any intruders shall be vaporized.

Then God enumerates the many bountiful and delicious offerings to which the priests shall be entitled but stipulates that, in exchange, the sons of Aharon shall have no share in the territory. God, in fact, is to be understood as the priests’ territory. While only the priesthood is to perform services in the Mishkan, the broader tribe of Levi will also have privileged access to those sacred places in order to perform their duties. The Levi’im won’t have territorial holdings, either, but they will receive tithes from everyone else to support them in exchange. They have to tithe from their tithe to God — via the priests, naturally — but that’s just the way it goes.

So have we settled the question of why there should be people designated as closer to God than others in a spiritual community? No, probably not. A bunch of people are dead now, and the rest are terrified. But there have been some concessions to this good question. The priesthood is not to be considered separate or better. They’re specialized. That’s different. And a whole interlocking community is necessary to support the proper functioning of this communal spiritual life, which requires many specialties. If everyone were a priest, there would be no one to do everything else. This is householder practice in a nutshell. And in this parashah, the priests are reminded that they, too, are householders, though their households include God’s house.

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