If I Were Jewish
5 min read
Al Capone murdered, extorted, and terrorized Chicago during the Prohibition. Yet when asked about his legacy, the notorious gangster declared: "I have spent the best years of my life giving people the lighter pleasures, helping them have a good time, and all I get is abuse - the existence of a hunted man." In his mind, he wasn't a criminal—he was a misunderstood public servant.
If America's most sinister crime boss could deceive himself so thoroughly, what does that say about our own capacity for self-delusion? This question becomes even more unsettling when we examine Korach's rebellion in this week's Torah portion.
The Torah portion opens with mutiny. Korach, a prince of the tribe of Levi, incites a rebellion against Moses and Aaron: "You take too much upon yourselves, for the entire congregation are all holy, and God is in their midst. So why do you raise yourselves above God’s assembly?"1 Korach's platform champions unity, equality, and egalitarianism—righteous goals that would make any social justice advocate proud.
Yet Moses's rebuttal completely sidesteps Korach's egalitarian rhetoric, striking at something far more personal: "Is it not enough that the God of Israel has distinguished you from the congregation of Israel to draw you near to Him, to perform the service in the Mishkan of the Lord and to stand before the congregation to minister to them?"2
Let's recap:
At this point, you’d logically expect Korach to say, "You misunderstand me! This isn't about my rank—it's about justice for everyone!" But instead of defending his principles, Korach responds by entering a competition with Moses and Aaron to determine the rightful leader of the Levites, the priesthood, and the nation!
What happened to Korach’s platform of egalitarianism?
The Midrash reveals that Korach was never interested in equality at all. He rebelled because "he envied the chieftainship of Elizaphan the son of Uzziel whom Moses appointed as chieftain over the sons of Kohath3Â by the [Divine] word."4
In his famous short story, Animal Farm, George Orwell satirizes the Russian revolution that gave birth to communism. In the book, a group of animals rebel against their human oppressors, establishing "All animals are equal" as the sacred commandment of their new society. But the pigs gradually seize power, eventually changing the motto to "All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others." The noble platform of egalitarianism served as a cover for the pigs’ hunger for power. Korach employed the same strategy—he weaponized equality to seize power for himself.
But here's what makes Korach's story truly chilling: Was he a conscious manipulator, or had he actually convinced himself that his cause was just?
As we saw in the verses above, Moses saw right through Korach's scheme, calling him out for his true intentions. But did Korach realize his own twisted motivation, or had he thoroughly convinced himself that he was fighting for justice?
According to Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe, the master of character development from the last generation, Korach genuinely convinced himself he was fighting for justice. At his core, Korach harbored the destructive trait of jealousy. But rather than confront this character flaw, he constructed a philosophy that transformed his jealousy into righteousness—crusading for equality for all.
But Korach didn't stop there. The Midrash explains that he saw prophetically that supremely righteous people would emerge from his lineage, including the prophet Samuel. Seeing that his descendants would be righteous, Korach convinced himself that his philosophy must be correct. In psychology, this phenomenon is called "confirmation bias"—the tendency to interpret information in ways that support our pre-existing beliefs.
Korach's error reveals an essential truth about human psychology: We hide our true motivation, even from ourselves, dressing it up as a wolf in sheep's clothing. The implications are sobering: if Korach—a prince of Levi who witnessed the splitting of the Red Sea and stood at Mount Sinai—could deceive himself so thoroughly, what does that say about our own capacity for self-delusion?
We hide our true motivation, even from ourselves, dressing it up as a wolf in sheep's clothing.
To make this practical, I'd like to suggest a self-accounting exercise: Is there an area of your life where you feel especially self-righteous? Is there a cause you're passionate about, sometimes to the point of conflict with others? Ask yourself: Why do I feel so strongly about my position? Do I have any personal interest? Trace it back—what was your first thought, before you dressed it up in noble principles? Was it as righteous as it now appears?
If you discover one of these hidden motivations, stop your external rebellion and instead work to correct the internal flaw you've uncovered. Being honest with ourselves is difficult, but there's no other way to live in truth and ensure we sow seeds of love instead of dissent.
May we learn the lesson of Korach and develop the courage to examine our true motivations, choosing authentic growth over self-righteous revolt.
Shabbat Shalom!
Avraham
Inspired by the talks of Rabbi Yitzchak Breitowitz - one of the great Torah scholars of our current generation.
