Standing in the Breach

By Rabbi Steven Lewis, HC ’11

Parashat Pinchas Numbers 25:10-30:1

“Is this a law of history or simply what must change?”
– Adrianne Rich, Sources

After the bodies are removed (24,000 plague-stricken sinners and the two who died to prevent more), after the spear is cleansed or discarded, Pinchas receives divine commendation for his zealous killings; two covenants: a בְּרִית שָׁלוֹם (covenant of peace) and בְּרִית כְּהֻנַּת עוֹלָם (covenant of perpetual priesthood). Pinchas’s action stops the plague created by God’s anger at Israel’s licentious idolatry. His extra-judicial killing is an act of redemptive violence; violence that liberates, and saves. In our tradition, the theme of redemptive violence comes up most clearly in the Exodus story with the death of the first born and destruction of the Egyptian army. In ritual or response, acknowledging the suffering caused by violence, we remove wine from our cup at the Seder, perhaps tell a story of angels weeping over drowning soldiers, and observe a fast of the first born the day before the festival celebration. Pinchas’s violence however seems to merit no caveat or mitigation, only reward and commendation.

Pinchas’s dramatic intervention is also a uniquely violent example of one of the many times a leader “stood in the breach” עָמַד בַּפֶּרֶץ (Psalms 106:23) between God’s wrath and vulnerable, sinful human beings. This begins with Abraham arguing for the innocents of Sodom and Gomorrah (Genesis 18), and most dramatically with Moses after the sin of the Golden Calf (Exodus 32), and Aaron with his firepan after the sin of Korach, Dathan and Aviram (Numbers 17). For these dramatic saving acts of courageous intervention, unlike in the case of Pinchas, there is no immediate divine reward or praise. The two covenants Pinchas received therefore, may perhaps be specifically linked to the violence of his act. The designation of Pinchas and his descendents as High Priests may be a way of creating distance between the impulse and execution of such acts because of the strictures of ritual purity and rigorous regimentation of ritual responsibilities. The Covenant of Peace, similarly may be protective of both Pinchas and potential future targets of his zealotry. It is explained this way by Haamek Davar (Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin):

In reward for turning away the wrath of the Blessed Holy One, God blessed him with the attribute of peace, that he should not be quick tempered or angry. Since it was only natural that such a deed as Pinchas’s should leave in his heart an intense emotional unrest afterwards, the Divine blessing was designed to cope with this situation, and promised peace and tranquility of soul.

A commentary from Iturei Torah volume 5, from an ambiguously identified sage, speaks to the protection needed to contain the intensity of zealotry:

The two Torah portions before Pinchas, Hukkat and Balak, and the two following; Mattot, Ma’asei, are usually combined whereas Parashat Pinchas is always read alone. The reason for this is that Pinchas was a zealot, and every zealot acts independently. And [even] when there are many [zealots], each one follows his own way and his own method. Woe to the generation in which the zealots band together!

Both these commentaries indicate the dangers of even redemptive violence, which still harms the perpetrator, and risks increasing out of control.

Even before our current moment of war and attempted assassinations, I have been troubled by the ubiquity and dramatic appeal of redemptive violence and its incompatibility with what I can imagine of a world of peace and justice. This belief is abstract as I have never been a soldier or needed to participate in violent conflict. I have never had to practically consider killing someone to protect myself or my family. My distrust of redemptive violence is no doubt formed and best articulated by the familiar words of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. from his 1967 book Where do we Go from Here? Chaos or Community?:

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate.

And yet when Pinchas resorts to violence, he receives no reprimand or correction. Perhaps there is no conflict; Dr. King is speaking about working towards justice whereas for Pinchas, his people were dying and violence seems the only way to save them. Still, redemptive violence feels like a seductive shortcut; a way to externalize and avoid the real problem. In other words, is the problem Midianites temptresses or Israelite lustfulness and impulse to idolatry? As a People that has for centuries been scapegoated by various cultures as the pressing problem that must be removed or destroyed, we should have a particular sensitivity to the corruptions of this strategy. If the problem is us rather than some expendable other, the violence perhaps does not come so easily. Is there a way out, or is it simply a law of history that we humans will so often see violence as our best solution? Can we imagine and enact something better? It has been challenging, especially in these past weeks and months to sit with these questions with no satisfying answers.

However, one alternative example keeps rising in my mind, as if holding some reply to these questions. It is another example of “standing in the breach,” which according to a midrash, is also a violent life-and-death encounter. When the people rise up and complain of the dramatic and miraculous executions of Korach, Datan and Aviram, God becomes enraged yet again. “And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying: ‘Remove yourselves from this community, that I may annihilate them in an instant.” (Numbers 17:9-10) Moses instructs Aaron to take his firepan, fire from the altar and incense and go to the community to stop the plague. Of Aaron it says, “He stood between the dead and the living until the plague was checked (Numbers 17:13). A midrash imagines Aaron physically blocking the Angel of Death from his task, arguing and then physically wrestling the Angel of Death to the Tent of Meeting, to God’s presence so the Angel can be commanded to stop. Aaron’s courageous violent encounter is not with a sinning human, but with death itself. Perhaps there may be a form of redemptive violence where we accost and wrestle with the elusive deeper source of harm and death for forgiveness and healing. There is no conclusion, but only the continued question of whether human beings can find an alternative to killing enemies as a way to improve the world and seek God’s approval. May we be blessed with the courage and creativity to find a way to stand in the breach, holding out against death on behalf of the living.

Rabbi Steven Lewis was ordained by Hebrew College Rabbinical School in 2011. He lives in Gloucester, MA with his family. He served as the rabbi of the synagogue there, Temple Ahavat Achim, from 2011-2022, and is currently a chaplain at Salem Hospital.