Should a Policeman Stop a Jaywalker?

 A few years ago I saw a fascinating blurb in the newspaper about a judge who had thrown out a case about a policeman who had given a jaywalker a ticket. The fine, on the face of it seemed to be legitimate in every respect; the man had indeed jaywalked, crossing a busy intersection, dashing through traffic. The problem: the policeman had been placed there for that very purpose, to catch jaywalkers. The judge, in a very refreshing - and candid - rebuke of the police said that the police's job was to prevent people from coming into harm's way. The policeman had been derelict in his duty by not preventing the pedestrian from crossing the street, and therefore the ticket and the fine were thrown out, the police receiving a severe rebuke. 

In light of this week's parsha, Korach, I would pose a similar question. Moshe Rabbeinu, having seen Aharon's sons, Nadav and Avihu, engulfed by heavenly flames for having brought the incense, a foreign and unwanted gift, why then did he instruct 250 men, great men of Korach's assembly to do just that, bring a gift that would mean their sure and immediate death? 

I have to admit that I asked about 10 people that question. It seems like a difficult question on the face of it. According to the Midrash, Korach himself didn't even see himself worthy of being the high priest - but rather, he took umbrage at the fact that his father, Yizhar, the second son of Kehat, had been passed over for Kehat's fourth and youngest son, Uziel; Uziel's son, Elitzafan, was chosen to be the prince of the tribe of Levi, and not Korach. Thus, if anything, Korach sought to be the prince, or Nassi, so why did Moshe instruct all 250 men who came on Korach's coattails to bring a foreign offering - the very same one that had killed Nadav and Avihu - when Korach himself conceded that he didn't deserve to be the high priest, in plain language, the only one, under whose direction, the incense offering was allowed to be brought?!

A careful reading of the Midrash seems to provide some insight; the Midrash asks, "Why did Moshe say to God: 'Don't accept their gift?'" Why doesn't the verse state, 'Don't accept their service' (or avodah)?" The Midrash's answer is different than my own, but it seems to me that Moshe was asking Hashem not to consider the incense brought by Korach's assembly a form of worship or service, which was explicitly forbidden for anyone not part of the Kohanic line - but rather as a gift, an offering, a present. That very language of mincha, or offering is one typically associated with the meal offering; it is something volitional, at its core. Yaakov asks Eisav to accept "the gift - the mincha - that has been brought to you." At the end of Shmoneh Esrei, in hopes of a coming together again of all branches of Judaism, we symbolically request, "Ve'arvah la'Hashem, minchat Yehuda vi'Yerushalayim," or the may the gift and offering of Judah and Jerusalem, be arev, or pleasing to God, "like times of old, and years prior."

And so, if anything, it would seem that Moshe was asking God not to apply the greatest measure of stringest or severity to the offering that would otherwise have no place in the Holy Temple, but rather see it not as a form of worship, or sacrifice, punishable by the death penalty, but rather as a gift. Moshe seemed to feel that he had no other way to prove Aharon's legitimacy, but by the same token, whilst instructing Korach's men to bring a fire that would have otherwise been forbidden, he asked Hashem to view it not in that light, but rather as a gift, a mincha. 

And it would seem that the verses hint at just that. The 250 men were not killed because they had brought a strange fire, but because they had tried to undermine the entirety of the fabric of the Jewish community; as persuasive as Korach had been, it would seem that Moshe was telling Korach and his men that they were barking up the wrong tree, that their logic was flawed - for even if they were right that Korach's father (and by extension, he) were skipped over, Korach and all of his men conceded that Aharon should have been the Kohen Gadol, or high priest. Call them anarchists; we all have a little bit of them in ourselves, but the larger question here is the extent to which we can throw out the baby with the bathwater. Were Korach and his men, in a peaceable way, like the daughters of Tzelafchad, or those who failed to bring the Paschal offering, to ask Moshe for redress, he surely would have asked God on the spot - as he did in each of those instances - as to what should be done, or why what had been had been done in that way. But rather, the inability of Korach's men to cogently express their duress, their grievances, and in its stead, their willingess to burn down the entire encampment, fueled by jealousy which knows no end, and cannot be quelled, left God no choice but to have the men engulfed by the flames of their spite, swallowed by their envy and angst. Like Datan and Aviram said, "Lo na'aleh," though we are the minority, we are not willing to hash things out, because we have to be right - and if we are not right, the world be damned! The Jewish way is one of democracy, a democracy of speech, ideals, values, conversation, and the refusal on the part of Datan and Aviram to take part in that conversation, meeting of minds, hearts and souls where two people can genuinely disagree, left them no place in the world, which perhaps sheds new light on the famous Tannaic teaching that the opening that sucked up Korach's men was created before the world; in other words, the world is predicated, founded and grounded on the ability of one man to listen to the next - not like Cain who could only speak but not listen - which meant that the very ground itself, the ground of this holy Earth can not bear people who refuse to give another a place, the right to exist, and coexist, and thus the very ground could no longer support, on a physical level, people the likes of Korach and his men.