“Overflowing” | Parshat Korakh & ג Gimel

Parshah Summary – P’shat 

A Levite named Korakh, together with his supporters, rebel against Moses and Aaron, arguing that “everyone is holy.” Moses tells them to offer special incense in the morning, and that Hashem will reveal the truth. The next day, they all bring their incense and the earth opens to swallow up all their tents, and a fire consumes the rebels. The people begin to complain, and a plague starts to move through the entire community. Aaron stops the plague by offering his own incense. A chief from each tribe brings their staves, and Aaron’s staff miraculously blossoms, showing that he is the chosen one for the priesthood. We then get instructions about various offerings, and among these, the “Covenant of Salt” is mentioned, which is the origin of dipping the hallah in salt at the Shabbat table today…

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Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching

...וַיִּקַּ֣ח קֹ֔רַח... וַיִּֽקָּהֲל֞וּ עַל־מֹשֶׁ֣ה וְעַֽל־אַהֲרֹ֗ן
Korakh separated himself… And they gathered against Moses and Aaron…
- BaMidbar (Numbers) 16:3, Parshat Korakh

The story of Korakh’s rebellion begins with the words, Vayikakh Korakh – literally, “Korakh took.” This is understood to mean that he separated himself, meaning he that he removed himself from the Israelite community to oppose Moses and Aaron. But the phrase is strange; why does it say he “took,” and what exactly did he take? There is a hint in this verse from Psalm 23:

:תַּעֲרֹךְ לְפָנַי שֻׁלְחָן נֶגֶד צֹרְרָי, דִּשַּׁנְתָּ בַשֶּׁמֶן רֹאשִׁי, כּוֹסִי רְוָיָה
You spread a table before me in the presence of my tormentors; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. - Psalm 23:5
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The word צֹרְרָי tzor’rai, “my tormentors,” comes from the same root as צַר tzar, “narrowness” or “constriction.” It is related to the word for Egypt, מִצְרַיִם Mitzrayim, which in Hasidic teaching becomes a symbol for inner slavery to constrictive thoughts and emotions – the feeling of being trapped, squeezed, or limited.
On the literal level, the image is one of a feast is spread out on a table before you (לְפָנַי l’fanai, “before me”) while your “tormentors” sit across from you (נֶגֶד neged, “against”). But another way to read it is that l’fanai and neged are different ways of saying the same thing, and that actually, the delicacies on the table are themselves the tormentors! 
We know this dynamic – we see something we want, something we imagine will make us feel complete, but we know it’s not good for us or appropriate. And yet, the feeling is so strong – it seems that fulfillment lies just ahead, in the next bite, the next achievement, the next recognition, the next experience; we are in conflict, in Mitzrayim, the narrow space of inner slavery. What is the remedy? 

...דִּשַּׁנְתָּ בַשֶּׁמֶן רֹאשִׁי – You anoint my head with oil… 
“Oil” is consciousness – like the burning oil of the menorah, illuminating the sacred dwelling space of the Divine: the Light of Presence. In other words, rather than trying to get rid of the desire, bring awareness into the feeling. Notice that sense of incompleteness that drives the desire; notice the impulse to grasp after something outside yourself in order to feel whole.
The moment we become aware in this way, something begins to shift. The desire is still there, but we are no longer trapped inside it, no longer confined within its narrowness. There is a vast space within which these feelings are arising and that space is already Whole. This brings us back to our parshah:

...וַיִּקַּח קֹרַח – Korakh took...
What did he take? In his rebellion against Moses and Aaron, he shows that he wants something – not food or possessions, but status, power, control, recognition. His argument against them is compelling:

...כִּי כָל־הָעֵדָה כֻּלָּם קְדֹשִׁים וּבְתוֹכָם יי – For the entire community is holy, and Hashem is within them.”
The statement is true; the Divine is present within everyone. But Korakh isn’t motivated by a desire for justice or equality, but by his own feeling of insufficiency, by his desire to acquire something for the self. And yet, Moses responds with a gesture of self-abnegation:

.וַיִּשְׁמַע מֹשֶׁה וַיִּפֹּל עַל־פָּנָיו – When Moses heard this, he fell on his face. 
There’s a story that an opponent of the Hassidic movement once came to the Alter Rebbe – Rabbi Sheur Zalman of Liadi – to attack him with accusations of arrogance: “You claim to be a holy man – a leader of Hassidim –but look how you sit alone in your study, separate from the people – and with an attendant at your door, only admitting people according to your command – how fancy of you! Isn’t that arrogance? Who do you think you are anyway?”

The tzaddik put down his head, resting it in his arms, as one does during the penitential Takhanun prayer. After a few minutes, he lifted his head and spoke: “The expression the Torah uses for ‘leaders of the people’ is ‘roshei alfei Yisrael – heads of the thousands of Israel,’ from which we learn that our leaders are known as ‘heads.’ Now it is true, the head and the body are joined together, and neither can exist without the other. Nevertheless, they’re clothed separately and differently. Why is this? Because the head must be distinct from the body, just as the ‘heads’ of any generation must be distinct from the people.”

The questioner was impressed with the answer and went on his way. But the Rebbe’s little son (who would eventually be known as Reb Dov Bear of Lubavich), had a different question for his father: “Abba, in order to give that answer, there was no need to rest your head in your arms. Why didn’t you give him the answer immediately?”
The Alter Rebbe replied: “In Parshat Korakh, when Korakh and his followers accused Moses and Aaron of abusing their power as leaders, we read that Korakh accused them with these words: ‘Umadua tit-nasu – And why do you exalt yourselves?’ Then we read, ‘Vayishma Moshe, vayipol al panav- Moses heard, and fell on his face.’ Only after he fell on his face, did Moses answer Korakh. So we might ask the same question there – why did Moses have to fall on his face first, before giving his answer?
“Because Moses suspected that perhaps there was some truth to the accusation; perhaps there was a bit of ego involved in his leadership, so he had to go inside himself and search inwardly to see if there was some truth there. Then, after searching within and purifying himself from any ego (as the Torah says, ‘V’ha’ish Moshe anav me’od –  Moses was exceedingly humble’), he was able to respond with clarity. A similar thing happened with me here today.”

This is a profound model for spiritual practice. When an impulse arises, whether for pleasure, control, recognition, or approval, we do not need to suppress it, and we do not need to obey it. We can simply turn toward it with awareness – accept it, know it, but don’t buy into it. Let it be as it is without becoming captured by it.
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In this way, we step out of the narrowness of the impulse and into the spaciousness of awareness. We discover that Wholeness is not waiting on the other side of getting what we want; Wholeness is available now, if we but bring our attention to the feeling of Not-Wholeness. This quality, native to the consciousness that we are on the deepest level, is represented by the letter ג gimel: fullness, abundance, sufficiency. On the level of ego, we feel: “I need something more in order to arrive into completeness.” But the practice of Presence reveals: our cup is already overflowing.