1. Why Is the Parasha Named After Korach?
The portion of Korach—named after a figure who rebelled against Moshe Rabbeinu and led many astray—raises an obvious question: why would the Torah immortalize such a negative character by naming a sedra after him? Korach’s story is one of conflict and rebellion, yet the Torah chooses to highlight his name. This teaches us that even in negativity, there is something positive to be found. The very fact that a parasha bears his name is evidence that no person or event is entirely devoid of merit or hope. Even when someone seems lost, we should not judge too quickly; there may be hidden good waiting to be revealed.
This lesson extends to our own lives. Often, we encounter events or periods that seem wholly negative, with no redeeming qualities. Yet, the parasha of Korach reminds us that even in darkness, there is potential for light. Naming the parasha after Korach encourages us to seek out the positive within the negative, both in others and within ourselves.
2. The Month of Tammuz and Its Significance
This discussion is especially relevant as we enter Rosh Chodesh Tammuz. Traditionally, Tammuz marks the beginning of the three weeks of mourning for the destruction of both Batei Mikdash, from the seventeenth of Tammuz through Tisha B’Av. However, until about twenty-five years ago, Tammuz was primarily associated with joy in Chabad history due to two significant dates: the release of the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn (Nishmaso Eden, zchuso yagen aleinu), from prison and exile.
The Rebbe often emphasized fulfilling and contributing to his father-in-law’s vision. Even in his letters, he constantly referenced his father-in-law’s drive for excitement and accomplishment in spreading Yiddishkeit. For the Rebbe, these events in Tammuz were central milestones in Jewish and Chabad history.
3. The Previous Rebbe’s Imprisonment and Miraculous Release
The previous Rebbe lived through extremely difficult times during the 1920s Soviet regime. Practicing Yiddishkeit was dangerous; even attending shul or sending children to Jewish schools could cost one their job or life. Leaders like the Rebbe faced even greater risks as they worked to keep Torah observance alive under threat of death.
Eventually, he was arrested and sentenced to death. Miraculously, through Divine mercy and some intervention efforts (despite Soviet indifference to world opinion), his sentence was commuted on Rosh Chodesh Tammuz from death to exile in Kastrama for ten years. He was given six hours at home before being sent away by train.
A remarkable episode occurred when he learned his train would arrive on Shabbos; he refused to travel rather than desecrate Shabbos, despite being told this meant remaining in prison. Ultimately, arrangements were made for him to travel on Sunday instead—the third day of Tammuz—though this meant three extra days in jail.
He arrived at Kastrama but stayed less than ten days before being informed on 12th Tammuz that he was freed from exile as well. Due to a holiday closure at government offices, he left on 13th Tammuz—ten days after leaving prison—marking two redemptive dates celebrated by Chabad: freedom from prison (3rd Tammuz) and freedom from exile (12th-13th Tammuz).
4. Gimel Tammuz: Joyous Redemption and Painful Loss
For decades, Gimel Tammuz (the third day of Tammuz) was a day of celebration marking redemption for Chabad chassidim. However, twenty-five years ago this changed when the Rebbe himself passed away on Gimel Tammuz (Tavshin Nun Dalet). This introduced a new layer of complexity: how can we find positivity in what appears only as loss?
This echoes our earlier question about Korach: can something so seemingly negative contain hidden good? Just as Korach’s parasha remains part of Torah despite its painful content, so too does Gimel Tammuz remain a special date imbued with meaning beyond its surface sadness.
5. The Miracle of Yehoshua and Shemesh B’Givon Dom
An additional miracle associated with Gimel Tammuz occurred during Yehoshua’s battle against Israel’s enemies (as recorded in Sefer Yehoshua). To secure victory for Bnei Yisroel, Yehoshua declared “Shemesh b’Givon dom—Sun stand still over Givon,” causing both sun and moon to halt their movement so Israel could triumph.
The Midrash relates that when Yehoshua commanded the sun to stop shining, it protested: “Who will say Hashem’s praise if I am silent?” Moshe Rabbeinu responded that he would take its place by praising Hashem instead. The ongoing movement of nature itself is praise for Hashem; when nature pauses for a miracle at Hashem’s will (for Klal Yisroel), this too becomes an expression of Divine greatness.
The parallel is striking: just as it seemed all light had stopped shining on Gimel Tammuz twenty-five years ago with the Rebbe’s passing—a spiritual “sun” ceasing—we are challenged to find new ways to express Hashem’s praise and continue His work even amidst apparent darkness.
6. The Rebbe’s Arrival in America and Renewed Hope
The devastation following the Holocaust left many Jews physically destroyed and spiritually broken—some losing faith entirely after witnessing such tragedy. The arrival of both the previous Rebbe (in 1940) and later our Rebbe (in 1941) brought renewed hope for American Jewry.
The previous Rebbe escaped Nazi-occupied Warsaw with miraculous help from unlikely sources including German intelligence agents; his daughters remained trapped until later rescued via creative use of immigration quotas based on Russian citizenship status rather than Polish nationality.
The Rebbe himself arrived on 28 Sivan 5701 (1941), just over a year after his father-in-law reached America. With their arrival began a new era for Chabad: expansion under their leadership transformed Jewish life across America and beyond.
7. Finding Positivity Within Separation: Lessons from Creation
Korah’s argument centered around separation: why should Kohanim be elevated above others? Why not let each Jew serve Hashem according to their own path without hierarchy? While Korach himself sought personal elevation as Kohen Gadol, his challenge raised important questions about unity versus division among Jews.
This theme appears already at creation: on day two Hashem separated upper waters from lower waters with rakia—a firmament—yets unlike other days it does not say “ki tov”—it was good—because separation itself isn’t inherently positive until it leads toward unity or higher purpose.
On day three however “ki tov” appears twice: once for creation itself and once retroactively validating separation now used constructively as land emerges from water enabling life below while heavens remain above.
This models true shalom—peace isn’t sameness but harmonious connection between distinct entities each fulfilling their unique role yet united toward Divine purpose.
8. Korach’s Argument Refined: Unity Through Diversity
Korah argued against spiritual hierarchy: if all Jews are holy (“b’tocham Hashem”—Hashem dwells among them), why elevate some above others? Yet Torah teaches that while each group has its role—Kohen, Levi, Yisrael; rabbis versus laypeople—all must strive both for excellence within their domain and connection beyond it.
The Kohen serves fully immersed in spirituality while others engage with worldly matters bringing holiness into daily life through mitzvos like tzedakah or honest work. But everyone should yearn occasionally for deeper connection—learning Torah or aspiring toward higher spiritual levels—just as those devoted solely to learning must also inspire others practically.
Korah stands for separation alone—“bald spot,” absence—but Torah transforms even this into opportunity by making it part of sacred narrative (parashas Korach). Separation isn’t inherently bad if ultimately used as a springboard toward greater unity (shalom)—infusing difference with purpose rather than division alone.
9. Transforming Negativity Into Growth—The Ongoing Mission
The story comes full circle: just as those who imprisoned the previous Rebbe ultimately freed him—and just as nature itself pauses at Hashem’s command—so too can negativity be transformed into blessing through Divine mercy and human effort combined.
The vacuum left by Gimel Tammuz—the “bald spot” created by absence—is painful yet also an invitation: can we infuse loss with meaning? Can we continue spreading light even when our “sun” seems hidden?
The answer lies in continuing the work inspired by our leaders—living by their teachings, expanding their vision—and trusting that ultimately all separations will be healed with Mashiach. Then we will see how every gap—even those caused by loss—was part of building something greater all along.
May we merit soon to see this revealed good,
B’mherah v’yomeinu amen!