by Elyse Frishman
(Originally published in Ten Minutes of Torah and Reform Voices of Torah)

The narrative of Parashat Pinchas is disturbing: the grandson of the High Priest Aaron slew two people, and was rewarded. Was he a zealot or not? He took lives. Did he save lives?

From last week's Parashat Balak, we read: "While Israel was staying at Shittim, the menfolk profaned themselves by whoring with the Moabite women, who invited the menfolk to the sacrifices for their god. Thus Israel attached itself to Baal-peor, and the Eternal was incensed with Israel. The Eternal One said to Moses, 'Take all the ringleaders and have them publicly impaled before the Eternal, so that the Eternal's wrath may be turned away from Israel.' So Moses said to Israel's officials, 'Each of you slay those of his men who attached themselves to Baal-peor.' Just then one of the Israelite men came and brought a Midianite woman over to his companions, in the sight of Moses and the whole community who were weeping at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting. When Phinehas [Pinchas], son of Eleazar son of Aaron the priest, saw this, he left the assembly and, taking a spear in his hand, he followed the Israelite into the chamber and stabbed both of them, the Israelite and the woman, through the belly. Then the plague against the Israelites was checked. Those who died in the plague numbered twenty-four thousand," (Numbers 25:1-9).

Parashat Pinchas begins: "The Eternal One spoke to Moses, saying, 'Phinehas, son of Eleazar son of Aaron the priest, has turned back My wrath from the Israelites by displaying among them his passion for Me, so that I did not wipe out the Israelite people in My passion. Say, therefore, "I grant him My pact of friendship [briti shalom]. It shall be for him and his descendants after him a pact of the priesthood for all time, because he took impassioned action for his God, thus making expiation for the Israelites." ' "

To recap: at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, as the Israelites gathered, weeping over the plague inflicted upon them for their idolatrous treachery, Pinchas witnessed an Israelite man and a Midianite woman entering "the chamber." This couple wantonly breached the sacred space forbidden to all but Moses and Aaron. Demonstrating total disregard for the power of God, they committed an act of supreme idolatry.

God had already struck the Israelites with plague. Should Pinchas have left it for God to respond to the invaders of the Mishkan, as God did to Nadab and Abihu when they entered the chamber unbidden? (Leviticus 10:2). Rather, Pinchas recognized that God would consider the idolatrous action of that couple to be one committed by the entire people; everyone was in grave danger, and he took it upon himself to save them.

Often Pinchas gets a bad rap, labeled a zealot for his passion for God. Zealots today murder Americans and Israelis in the name of their gods. We are understandably wary. Yet, be careful of the degree to which one compares biblical actions with contemporary ones without taking context into account. God regularly punished the people with death; the Book of Numbers is replete with plague, fire, serpents, and earthquake, all inflicted on the Israelites for their faithlessness. The relationship between idolatrous rebellion and severe, physical punishment is unequivocal. Following the plague that God inflicted, twenty-four thousand people died; it should not be surprising that Pinchas recognized that stabbing the couple would halt God's killing. It did.

Today, we don't experience God taking life punitively. Zealots are those who murder while invoking God's Name. We consider this idolatry.

Pinchas's passion parallels God's, and he acted not only for God, but also for his people, saving them. Earlier, when Korach's rebellion brought plague upon the people, Pinchas's grandfather Aaron walked amidst the Israelites until they healed. Pinchas's action halted the plague instantly.

Pinchas's instinct and experience in the priestly service are reflected in his character. Just as his offerings in the Mishkan expiated the sins of the people, so slaying the heretics erased the guilt of the community. He was rewarded with a "pact of friendship," b'rit shalom--the inheritance of the priesthood through his line, because his action demonstrated his commitment beyond doubt.

The immoral Israelites did not repent until the plague struck. Before punishment, they were . . . unconcerned . . . unaware? Once again, the Israelites just didn't seem to get it: God was going to punish them if they didn't have faith. What was wrong with the character of our people?

Maimonides taught in Laws Concerning Character Traits, "Those whose bodies are sick taste the bitter as sweet and the sweet as bitter. . . Likewise, people with sick souls crave and love the bad character traits and hate the good way. They are careless about following it and it is very difficult for them, depending upon the extent of their illness. . . .  Of them it is said: 'They forsake the paths of righteousness to walk in the ways of darkness,' " (Proverbs 2:13). (Ethical Writings of Maimonides, ed. Raymond L. Weiss with Charles Butterworth [New York: Dover Publications, New York University, 1975], p. 31).

Over and again, bored with their food choices, their living conditions, their mates, the Israelites rebelled. Over and again they were stricken with snakebites, plague, even the earth swallowing them alive. What would it take for them to learn? Consider the behaviors we all demonstrate: not being able to admit when we're wrong, acting aggressively when we should apologize, or selfishly justifying wrongful behavior.

The narrative of Pinchas is about character and why we succeed or fail amidst the influences around us. How did the people fall sway to their worst impulses while Pinchas stayed true to his best? In Jewish terms, it was his passion for God: his passion for the system of living that God had taught through Moses. He wasn't a zealot. He was attentive and strong, a priest who served others rather than himself. He accurately perceived the radical danger facing everyone, and he acted.

Maimonides taught: "Man is created in such a way that his character traits and actions are influenced by his neighbors and friends, and he follows the customs of the people of his country. Therefore, a man needs to associate with the just and be with the wise continually in order to learn from their actions and keep away from the wicked, who walk in darkness, so that he avoids learning from their actions. That is what Solomon said: 'He who walks with wise men will become wise, but he who associates with fools will become evil,' " (Proverbs 13:20), (ibid. p. 46-7).

We choose to join sacred communities, and it is a choice that saves our lives. We cannot easily overcome the profane "customs of our country" without an alternative sacred model of living. We liberal Jews appreciate how we both gain from and influence our diverse, larger world. Yet, without Judaism's influence on us, our souls would sicken. We would not recognize the path of righteousness.

In the time of Pinchas, idolatry--forsaking Judaism--threatened the destruction of the people morally and physically. What about today? Do we imagine that we are not a generation with the potential to self-destruct? In Torah, catastrophe was rapid and so was its resolution. In our time evil is more insidious, intensifying noxiously as it brews: the vast gulf between the wealthy and the impoverished, global climate change, genocide, and so on. The Israelites lived in a single community with no escape; we choose when to walk in or out of our synagogues, when to accept or reject moral leadership. We can pretend to ignore our crises with a click of the remote; Pinchas could not and did not.

"Those who walk among the wise will become wise, but those who associate with fools will become evil." What are the idolatries of our time that we fall sway to? What in each of our characters leads us to be deluded? In modernity, each individual Jew has the power to effect change. It is incumbent on each of us to thwart wicked intention and save lives.

Rabbi Elyse Frishman is the spiritual leader of The Barnert Temple in Franklin Lakes, New Jersey. She is the editor of Mishkan T'filah, A Reform Siddur.

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