Bad Zealotry, Good Zealotry

Written by Rabbi Elliott Karstadt — 18 July 2022

After such a wonderful Bar Mitzvah, let us compare this bar mitzvah with one that happened last week in Israel – that place where Jews can be Jews without hinderance and without the fear of being attacked for it.

According to a JTA report: ‘A group of Jews are celebrating a bar mitzvah at the Kotel’s egalitarian prayer space. Dozens of haredi Orthodox men and teenage boys enter the scene and aggressively harass and intimidate the participants: shouting down the prayers, calling the gathered Jews “Nazis,” “animals” and “Christians,” and ripping up their prayer books.’

‘How can a nation of Jews allow a reality in which people fear for their security when they are just trying to pray in their own way in a plaza that was specifically designated for this type of prayer?’ wrote the Masorti Movement in a tweet.

Rabbi Arie Hasit, who officiated one of the ceremonies, said he was ‘broken’ by the ordeal.

‘This was an American boy who wanted to celebrate reaching the age of mitzvot, a boy who could have forgotten any connection with the Jewish people and the land of Israel but chose to go up to the Torah in Israel, in front of his parents, his grandfather and grandmother, and some family,’ Hasit wrote in a public Facebook post.

It should not be too difficult to know why I am referring to that moment just after Huxley read from the portion of Pinchas, should it?

Pinchas acts with violent zealotry.

Zealotry is not necessarily a bad thing – we all have a sense of justice, we all have things that we passionately believe in, we all have buttons that, when pressed, will cause us to react with intensity. However, that does not mean that it is natural or preferable to behave like Pinchas.

We might be zealous in our conviction that young women should be able to read from the Torah have Bat Mitzvah in exactly the same way as their brothers. We might be zealous in our conviction that men and women should be able to pray together. We might also be zealous in our conviction that it is up to the individual to decide how they are going to approach the laws and the mitzvot in our Torah, rather than leaving it up to a small group of religious leaders. We might be just as zealous in those convictions as those who disrupted the religious ceremonies at the Kotel. The difference is how we enact that zealotry.

While the Torah seems to praise Pinchas for his violent actions, the rabbis of the Talmud are much more circumspect – actually, I think they are a bit embarrassed by him. They worry that others might follow his example – which they do not want. They believe in law and order – and they worry that others might follow Pinchas in taking matters into their own hands (see B.Sanhedrin 82a-b). They also draw our attention to the fact that Pinchas is, as Huxley read for us today, given a covenant of peace. This seems so bizarre given what Pinchas has just done, which is the opposite of peace.

Commenting on this ‘covenant of peace’, the authors of the Midrash take what I think is a sarcastic tone: ‘The Holy Blessed One said: It is right that he should receive this reward’ (Bamidbar Rabbah 21.1). The midrash then goes on to show why peace is such a great gift, and how important it is as a Jewish value. It is not stated explicitly, but I infer here that the midrash is saying that the gift of peace is the right reward for Pinchas because he, of all people, is the one who needs to learn about peace! The section of midrash ends with a statement from Rabbi Shimon ben Halafta, who states: ‘there is no vessel (כלי) that contains a blessing except for peace’. If we look in the dictionary for the word  כליwe find that the traditional translation as ‘vessel’ can easily be replaced by ‘tool’ or ‘weapon’. This potential translation immediately invites a contrast with the weapon that Pinchas used to slay Zimri and Cozbi. So, Rabbi Shimon ben Halafta’s claim that only peace can deliver a blessing can feasibly be read as a condemnation of Pinchas’ vicious actions.

Where does Pinchas’ sense of zealotry come from? Well, that only seems to be revealed afterwards, in the other “reward” that God gives him in the aftermath of his committing murder. As well as a covenant of peace, God gives Pinchas an ‘eternal priesthood’. Why is this significant? We already know that Pinchas is the son of Elazar, who is the son of Aaron. Both Elazar and Aaron are priests, so surely Pinchas is already a priest – and surely the priesthood has already been established as an eternal inheritance for Aaron and his descendants. So, why does the Torah say at this moment that God gives Pinchas this eternal priesthood? Because Pinchas was not, before this point, a priest. Because he was born before the priesthood was given Aaron and his sons – and while it was established that subsequent generations of Aaron’s families would have this special position in society, Pinchas being already born, was left out. In other words, because Pinchas had been alive when his father was anointed as a priest, he was not automatically included in the priesthood. It was only when God bestows this ‘covenant of eternal priesthood’ on him that Pinchas is really able to join the club.

I don’t know if anyone has seen the original Incredibles movie – in which Buddy Pine (a.k.a. Incrediboy) turns to evil when he is rejected by the married superhero duo Mr Incredible and Elastigirl. For those who are of the Neflix generation, perhaps a better parallel is to the character of Vanya (now Victor) in the Umbrella Academy, played by Eliot Page, who is not allowed to give full expression to his powers and therefore loses control and ends up destroying the universe.

And this is a recurring trope in popular culture – the character who feels a sense of injustice turns to evil because they have been neglected or underappreciated.  Under this reading, Pinchas might be seen as a child overlooked when it came to positive re-enforcement and love. The fact that he is rewarded (both with the office of priesthood and the gift of peace) after he has committed such a horrific act of destruction could be read as God’s admission that a mistake had been made in the previous treatment Pinchas had received. This is not to justify what Pinchas did, but it does serve as a reminder that when people do not value the lives or life choices of others, it can come as a result of the idea that their own existence or their own life choices are not valuable. We can combat this with love and positive re-enforcement.

Of course, later in the parashah we are reminded of how such injustice might be brought to the attention of power without violence. The daughters of Tzelofhad come forward to Moses to protest that they are set to inherit nothing from their father purely because they are women. ‘Why should our father’s name be lost because he has no son?’ (Num. 27.5) they ask. And their question is received favourably. God agrees with the daughters of Tzelofhad, and the law is changed to allow daughters to inherit from their father (in a case in which he has no sons). The interesting thing is that both the daughters and Pinchas are awarded an inheritance which (arguably) they had previously been denied. But the way they go about it is diametrically opposite: while Pinchas is violent and vitriolic, the daughters are diplomatic and pay particular attention to the law.

And while both we and the ancient rabbis are embarrassed by Pinchas and really want to distance ourselves from association with him and his actions, we are always proud to talk about Machlah, No’a, Choglah, Milka and Tirzah – and their quest for justice. They did not need to be given a covenant of peace – they built one for themselves.

Both Pinchas and the daughters of Tzelofhad feel a sense of injustice – which leads them to zealotry.

We are all the authors of our own stories. We can feel as though the world is out of control – particularly when we feel a sense that we have been done an injustice. But ultimately we have the power to decide how we will respond. Will it be with violence, or will it be with a cold anger that can be directed to change that will truly last?

I somehow feel that future generations of those who attached the B’nei Mitzvah celebrations in Jerusalem will ultimately be embarrassed by it and will not want history to remember this episode. Those young men and women who have entered into our covenant of peace – who feel a sense of justice but pursue it with justice – history will remember them with pride and love.