Opening the Door

*abridged sermon, Parashat Korach June 23, 2023/4 Tamuz 5783

In the days leading up to our children’s departure for sleepaway camp, the first summer they’ve been away for such a length of time, there were a series of minor rebellions. A particular one I won’t forget went like this:

Amidst the natural nerves of delving in to such a new experience, one of the kiddos said: “What if I just don’t get in the car?” I replied with understanding, remembering well the many emotions I felt at their age leaving for sleepaway camp: “Well, that’s not an option, and your feelings of nervousness and fear are totally normal. Let’s talk about what you can choose—like, the attitude you bring to a new experience.” I count that as a good parenting moment. Believe me, there are plenty of others when I’ve said: “Just get in the car.”

I’m relieved to share the very same kiddo that proposed she might ground her feet at home, helped load up the duffle bags and is making her way through the mystery and magic of Jewish sleepaway camp.

Amidst trying to process the feelings of launching our children forward into one of the most impactful opportunities in their Jewish and personal growth, I’ve realized a few things. We humans can quickly judge what we don’t know or understand. There are times we even shut the door and close ourselves off from experiences that can potentially be transformational. We learn to evolve with our judgement and many of us, really all of us, also hold fast to our judgement well into adulthood, like the main character of this week’s Torah portion, Korach.

In Parashat Korach, God again strikes a portion of the Israelites down after a rebellion grows to 250 people. Born out of the fear and uncertainty that arose from a recent report of the Promised Land which described giants and certain death, this rebellion causes a great rift in the community. It begins with “Vayikach Korach”—”Korach took.” We soon learn that, although he claims to advocate on behalf of the people, Korach has a growing hunger for power. Korach took—he seized hold of leadership with force.

Korach’s specific claim against Moses and Aaron is the following: You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and God is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above God’s congregation?  Korach has a very valid point, a compelling claim. I am sure there were moments when Moses and Aaron failed to see the holiness surrounding them among their people. I am sure there were moments calling out for teshuva, for all need to be held to account, including the highest level of leadership.

However, what Korach failed to do was check his own sense of judgement. What if he took his valid concerns and approached Moses and Aaron with a sense of relationship and responsibility for their roles in the greater community? What if he realized there were certain realities unknown to him and approached with more curiosity instead of leading with a foregone conclusion?

Like Korach, judgement can enter our hearts and minds, at times roaring so fiercely. Other times it creeps stealthily, so we hardly know it’s there. Judgement can enter our hearts and minds, instilled from an early age, living and preying on insecurities, lack of control, and pain. Since judgement is such a powerful shaper of the human psyche, it comes as no surprise that it rears its head so often in the desert wilderness, the setting for much of the Five Books of Moses.  In the wilderness, judgement finds its breeding ground. As we travel through the Book of Numbers, deep in the heart of the wilderness, the sense of judgement that emerges from the Israelite community in these parshiot is reflected in our own as we wrestle within the barrage of realities that fill our daily lives.

Judgement is often shaped by messages we receive from the world around us. I’ve become aware of this when I struggle with the language we often use for cancer. Like the poster hanging in my doctor’s office with a man, arms folded across his chest and below him are the words “Fight Cancer.” I am battling breast cancer. Yes. And there is no doubt I want to beat the (beep) out of it. But what if, on a given day, I’m not feeling like a warrior, and instead, feel more like a yoga student. What if I am also learning to breathe with cancer treatment? The language of going to battle is itself a kind of judgement, and yet my movement on this path thus far is multi-dimensional. I need to draw on my fiery, warrior spirit, yes, but also the spirit of a gentle breeze and cooling waters. And what about God in all this?  As a faithful person, when doubt and fear rear their head, do I become more like a rebellious Korach than a steadfast Moses? Judgment makes its way into my thoughts like a buzzing mosquito in an unrelenting Dallas summer.

I recently read a short essay by writer Brian Doyle, may his memory be for blessing, who said: “For all that we speak, as a culture and a people, of victory and defeat, of good and evil, of hero and coward, it is none of it quite true. The truth is that the greatest victory is to endure with grace and humor, to stay in the game, to achieve humility.”

Amidst weariness and fear, there is victory in patiently enduring while savoring the ordinary moments of blessing. I pause and breathe, when the melodies of Shabbat return and my soul sings, when a vibrant flower in the backyard blooms with abandon. I remember to release the judgement and hear again an inner voice born from our Rock and Redeemer, a still small whisper that always returns. Like a little girl within a judging world, hauling those bags into the back of the minivan, heart aflutter, opening the door to new dimensions of strength, and love, and hope.