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God Spoke From a Thorn-Bush and Korah Refused to Listen

Korah's sons could not open their mouths. Fire stood around them and the pit opened under their father. A pillar rose anyway, and they sat down to sing.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Fire in a Plant Nobody Wanted
  2. Seventy Men Around a Small Tent
  3. Korah Wanted a Higher Place
  4. His Sons Could Not Open Their Mouths
  5. They Sang From the Pillar
God Spoke From a Thorn-Bush and Korah Refused to Listen Click for full size

Fire in a Plant Nobody Wanted

Moses had been in Midian long enough to forget the palace. He was tending Jethro's flock on the far side of the wilderness when he saw fire in a thorn-bush. The bush burned and did not burn up. He walked closer.

God spoke from inside the thorns. The plant was the seneh (סנה), the lowliest shrub on that ground. Its wood was useless. Its branches scratched. Nations could not carve idols from it. Nobody wanted it for timber, shade, or gods.

That was why the voice was there. God was with a people inside their humiliation, not above it. He suffers along with Israel. Nothing in nature, not even this stunted bush, exists without the Shechinah (שכינה), God's dwelling presence. Moses took off his shoes on cracked earth, at the height of knee-high scrub, and learned that heaven will speak from low places no one would pick for a shrine.

The leaf held five leaflets. God named five men: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Aaron, and Moses himself. For their merit He would redeem. A bird that alights on a thorn-bush does not leave with its wings whole. Moses stood in the scratch of it and did not step back.

Seventy Men Around a Small Tent

Later, in the wilderness, the burden of judging a whole camp sat on one man. God told him to gather seventy elders of noble stock and pious character. Moses stood them around the Tent of Meeting: thirty on the south, thirty on the north, ten on the east, himself on the west. The tent was thirty cubits by ten. Each elder received a cubit of space.

God descended as on the day of revelation and put of Moses's spirit upon them. They received prophecy to the end of their days. Moses's spirit was not less. He was a burning candle from which many others are lit, and the first flame does not shrink because other wicks catch.

He remained the head of that seventy. The men stood in their cubits and carried what one mouth could not. No cedar. No palace stair. A tent the width of ten cubits, and a share of spirit that did not run out.

Korah Wanted a Higher Place

Korah was a Levite, a cousin, wealthy, and furious. He watched Moses hold the leadership and Aaron hold the priesthood and decided what was left for him was not enough. "All the congregation is holy, every one of them, and the Lord is among them. Why do you lift yourselves above the assembly?" (Numbers 16:3).

He dressed the grievance as equality. He refused to listen. God had chosen the lowest plant. He had chosen slaves. He had given leadership to a man with slow speech who had spent years with another man's sheep. Korah was not asking to stand in the low place. He was asking why his height had been overlooked.

The earth opened. It took him down, and the company with him. The same ground that had held a voice in a shrub now swallowed the man who would not hear it.

His Sons Could Not Open Their Mouths

Korah's three sons cried, "Help us, Moses!" Fire stood around them. Below them the pit of Gehinnom (גיהנם) gaped. The Shechinah said, "If these men were to repent, they should be saved. Repentance do I desire, and naught else."

They decided, all three at once, to repent. They could not open their mouths. The fire would not give them air for a confession. The pit would not give them a floor for kneeling.

God took the thought. In the sight of all Israel a pillar rose in Gehinnom. They seated themselves on it. They sat and sang praises sweeter than mortal ear had heard. Moses and all Israel leaned in to listen.

They Sang From the Pillar

The gift did not stop at rescue. They received prophecy there, in the pit, and sang events of the world to come. "Fear not the day on which the Lord will take hold of the ends of the earth, and the wicked be shaken out of it. The pious will cling to the Throne of Glory. Fear not, you pious, the Day of Judgment. The judgment of sinners will have as little power over you as it had over us when all the others perished and we were saved."

Korah did not sing. Korah was gone. His sons, falling with him, found a floor where he had wanted a throne. The camp stood at the rim and listened to music coming up from the dark.


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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Legends of the Jews 4:159Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

There's a lot more to that thorny shrub than meets the eye.

Our tradition teaches us that the choice was far from arbitrary. In fact, the humble thorn-bush, or seneh in Hebrew, was packed with symbolism. According to the Legends of the Jews, there were very good reasons for the selection.

First off, the thorn-bush was considered "clean" because the heathens couldn't use it to carve idols. But it goes much deeper than that. God choosing to dwell in this stunted, insignificant plant conveyed a powerful message to Moses: He suffers along with Israel. The Divine Presence, the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence), intimately connected to the plight of the Israelites.

It doesn't stop there. Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews highlights that nothing in creation, not even the lowliest thorn-bush, can exist without the presence of the Shekhinah. Everything is touched by the Divine. Everything matters.

But what else could this bush represent? Well, the thorn-bush can be seen as a symbol for Israel itself. As the thorn-bush is the lowliest of trees, so was Israel's condition in exile compared to other nations. Yet, just as the thorn-bush scratches any bird that lands on it, so too will those nations who oppress Israel be punished. There's a resilience, a hidden strength within apparent weakness.

Midrash Rabbah compares Israel to a garden hedge made of thorn-bushes, protecting God’s garden, the world. Without Israel, the world, in this view, could not endure. Quite a responsibility, wouldn't you say?

And here's an interesting parallel: the thorn-bush bears both thorns and roses. Similarly, Israel has both pious and impious members. It's a reminder that no community is monolithic; we contain multitudes.

The thorn-bush needs plenty of water to grow, and Israel needs the Torah, the celestial water, to prosper. The Torah, in this context, is not just the five books of Moses, but the whole body of Jewish law, teaching, and wisdom.

But wait, there's more! The leaf of the thorn-bush consists of five leaflets, which, according to some interpretations, indicated to Moses that God would redeem Israel for the sake of the merits of five pious men: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Aaron, and Moses himself.

Even the numerical value of the Hebrew word for thorn-bush, Seneh, holds significance. The letters add up to one hundred and twenty, representing the age Moses would reach and the number of days the Shekhinah would rest on Mount Horeb. It's amazing how much meaning can be packed into a single word!

Finally, perhaps the most profound reason of all: God descended from the highest heavens and spoke to Moses from a lowly thorn-bush to illustrate His modesty. It wasn't about grand displays of power, but about meeting Moses where he was, in the midst of his own humble existence.

So, the next time you see a seemingly insignificant plant, remember the burning bush. Remember the lessons of humility, resilience, and the ever-present Shekhinah that it embodies. What other hidden meanings are waiting to be discovered in the world around us?

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Legends of the Jews 4:67Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

The Torah gives us a fascinating glimpse into this when Moses, the ultimate leader, faces the challenge of delegation.

Imagine: The Israelites are in the desert, a vast multitude, and Moses is their sole guide, judge, and intercessor. It's an impossible task for one person! So, God instructs him to appoint seventy elders to share the burden of leadership. Now, who were these seventy elders? The text calls them men "of novel extraction and of lofty and pious character." They weren’t just any random people; they were individuals of exceptional qualities, chosen for their wisdom and integrity.

Moses gathers them around the Ohel Mo'ed (אֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵד֩), the Tent of Meeting, the place where God revealed Himself. He arranges thirty on the south side, thirty on the northern side, and ten on the eastern side, with Moses himself standing on the western side. The dimensions of the Tent of Meeting are important here: thirty cubits long and ten cubits wide. Each elder was apportioned a cubit of space. It's a beautiful image of order and shared responsibility.

Then, something incredible happens.

God, pleased with this act of delegation, descends from heaven, just like on the day of the revelation at Mount Sinai! The spirit of prophecy comes upon the elders, gifting them with prophetic insight that would stay with them for the rest of their days. As we find in Legends of the Jews, the spirit God placed upon them was of the spirit of Moses.

But here's the crucial point: did Moses lose anything by sharing his spirit? Absolutely not! The text uses a powerful analogy: Moses was like a burning candle from which many others are lit, yet the original candle's flame remains undiminished. His wisdom, his leadership, his very essence remained intact. He didn’t become “less” of a leader by empowering others; he actually became more.

Even after the appointment of the elders, Moses remained the leader of the people. He became the head of this Sanhedrin (סַנְהֶדְרִין), this council of seventy members, guiding and directing their collective wisdom. The Sanhedrin would later become a central institution in Jewish law and governance.

What does this story tell us about leadership? It's not about hoarding power; it’s about empowering others, sharing wisdom, and creating a system of collective responsibility. True leadership isn't diminished by delegation; it's amplified. It's a lesson that resonates just as powerfully today as it did in the desert so long ago. A lesson that shows us, perhaps, that the best way to lead is to light other people's candles, trusting that the light will illuminate the path for everyone.

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Legends of the Jews 5:26Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Legends of the Jews turns to Korah's Transgression and the Wilderness.

What about Korah's sons? The story takes a surprising turn, highlighting the boundless mercy of the Divine. The Legends of the Jews, that incredible compilation of midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) stories by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, really fleshes out this moment. Ginzberg tells us that as the earth began to swallow Korah and his company, Korah's sons cried out, "Help us, Moses!" for a second. They were literally on the precipice of oblivion.

The Shekhinah (the Divine Presence) – that radiant, palpable presence of God – responded. According to the legend, it declared that if these men repented, they could be saved. After all, repentance is what the Divine truly desires.

Here's the kicker: they were surrounded by fire and the gaping mouth of the earth! How could they possibly express their repentance? They couldn't even open their mouths!

But God, being God, saw their sincere intention. As the legend goes, in full view of all Israel, a pillar miraculously arose from the depths of Gehenna, hell itself, just for them. Upon this pillar, they found refuge.

There, suspended between destruction and salvation, they began to sing praises and songs to God. And not just any songs. The Legends of the Jews tells us their melodies were sweeter than anything ever heard by mortal ears. Moses and all of Israel listened, completely captivated.

The story doesn't end there. God further distinguished them by granting them the gift of prophecy. In their songs, they foretold events of the future world. They sang, "Fear not the day on which the Lord will 'take hold of the ends of the earth, and the wicked be shaken out of it,'" quoting from (Job 38:13), "for the pious will cling to the Throne of Glory and will find protection under the wings of the Shekhinah."

They offered comfort and reassurance, declaring that the judgment of sinners would have no power over the righteous, just as it had no power over them when they were saved while all others perished. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, this act of salvation was a powerful demonstration of divine mercy.

What a message! Even in the face of utter destruction, even when physically unable to express repentance, sincere intention, a true change of heart, can be seen and rewarded. It also highlights the idea that repentance isn't just about words, but about a fundamental shift in one's being. It's a beacon of hope, reminding us that redemption is always possible.

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