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What Korah Found at the Bottom of the Earth

The earth swallowed Korah whole before the entire congregation of Israel. The rabbis could not stop wondering what came after the ground closed over him.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Ground That Was Always Waiting
  2. Korah's Sons and the Direction of Motion
  3. What the Pit Preserved
  4. Joseph and the Kindness That Reached Into Darkness

The Ground That Was Always Waiting

The ground cracked open and Korah was gone. He had stood before the entire congregation of Israel, certain of his righteousness, and the earth had answered the certainty with a crack that swallowed him, his household, all his followers, and everything they owned. The Torah records this in six verses and moves on. The narrative moves on. But the rabbis could not.

The Book of Jasher, the non-canonical text that fills in narrative gaps the Torah leaves open, frames the event with a cosmological detail. The mouth of the earth that opened to receive Korah had been waiting since the beginning. The tradition preserved in multiple rabbinic sources holds that the earth's mouth was one of ten things created at the twilight of the first Sabbath, the last things made before God rested, the boundary cases of creation that prepared the world for everything that would happen in it. The earthquake was not improvised. The pit had been built into the structure of creation on the day before rest, ready for the moment when Korah's rebellion would need an answer.

Korah's Sons and the Direction of Motion

Korah went down. His sons did not. At the moment the ground opened and the choice became stark, the sons of Korah repented. Midrash Tehillim preserves the teaching from Proverbs 15:24: the path of life leads upward for the wise. Look upward and be saved. Look downward and be taken. Korah's sons looked up. Their father did not. He went into the earth and they stood at the edge of it, having chosen differently at the last possible moment.

The tradition notes that the Psalms of the sons of Korah, eighteen psalms attributed to his descendants in the book of Psalms, are among the most searching spiritual poetry in the Hebrew Bible. These are psalms of longing for the divine courts, of thirst for God the way parched land thirsts for water, of the soul's deep call to the divine depths. The rabbis read those psalms as evidence that something was happening in the pit below: Korah himself, preserved alive in the depths, calling upward, and his sons answering from above in verse. The psalms were the audible side of an ongoing conversation between the depths and the heights.

What the Pit Preserved

Shemot Rabbah 31 preserves a teaching attributed to Rabbi Meir about the verse in Exodus: you shall not curse judges. God is especially strict about judges, Rabbi Meir argues, those who teach justice and the king. And he uses Korah's case as the demonstration. Korah had cursed Moses and Aaron, the judges of his generation, and the punishment had been proportionate to the violation of that specific prohibition. The earth's judgment was not disproportionate. It was the exact shape of what had been done.

Korah in paradise: the Midrashic tradition holds that Korah, though swallowed alive and carried into the depths, was not beyond redemption. He was preserved in the pit, alive in some form, waiting for the moment when his own cry would be heard. The psalmist's words of his descendants were the cry reaching down to him across generations, the sons' upward-looking faith eventually penetrating the depths that had received their father.

Joseph and the Kindness That Reached Into Darkness

The depth that swallowed Korah was the same depth that had received Joseph. Thrown into a pit by his brothers, sold into Egypt, imprisoned on false charges: Joseph's descent through the layers of his misfortune traced a path that the tradition reads as preparation rather than punishment. The man who would eventually sustain all of Egypt and keep his own family alive during famine had been trained by the pit, by slavery, by the dungeon. Each level of descent had stripped away a different kind of dependence on external support until what was left was the man who could sustain others because nothing external remained to sustain him.

The Legends of the Jews describes Joseph's generosity after his family came to Egypt: food, drink, clothing, welcome, sustained provision for people who had thrown him into the earth. The contrast is precise. Korah used his position to tear things down from above. Joseph used his position to build things up from below. Both men had been in the depths. One had gone there involuntarily and emerged knowing how to give. The other had gone there by the decision of heaven and remained, preserved, waiting for the upward motion his sons were already demonstrating on his behalf.


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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Jasher 84Book of Jasher

The ancient Israelites certainly did! And this chapter of the Book of Jasher throws us right into the middle of their long, winding journey.

Remember Korah's rebellion? The Book of Jasher reminds us that it was a pretty big deal. Korah, a Levite, challenged the leadership of Moses and Aaron, and the consequences were… well, let's just say the earth wasn't happy. The earth opened up and swallowed Korah and his followers, along with their homes and belongings. Yikes! After that, according to Jasher, God made the people wander "by the way of Mount Seir for a long time."

Speaking of wandering, there's a whole lot of not fighting going on here. God tells Moses, explicitly, several times, "Don't mess with these people!" Specifically, the descendants of Esau, who lived in Mount Seir. God says, "I will not give to you of any thing belonging to them, as much as the sole of the foot could tread upon, for I have given Mount Seir for an inheritance to Esau." (Jasher 84:4). The Israelites are told to buy food and water from them, and to generally be good neighbors. It's a stark reminder that even divinely ordained journeys can have… complicated neighborly relations.

The Israelites then spend nineteen years going around the wilderness of Moab. Again, God's instructions are clear: "besiege not Moab, and do not fight against them, for I will give you nothing of their land" (Jasher 84:12). It’s interesting, isn't it? That even with a promised land in sight, there were boundaries, both physical and divine, that couldn't be crossed.

So, what did happen during all this wandering? Well, according to Jasher, King Latinus of the Chittim (often associated with Cyprus or other Mediterranean regions) died after a 45-year reign, and Abimnas took over. More significantly, the text details a fascinating conflict between Sihon, king of the Amorites, and Moab. It's like a mini-drama unfolding on the sidelines of the Israelite journey!

Sihon, apparently feeling ambitious, hires Beor and his son Balaam (yes, that Balaam!) to curse Moab. We know Balaam from the Book of Numbers as the prophet who couldn't curse Israel. But here, in Jasher, he's cursing Moab on behalf of Sihon. The result? Sihon defeats Moab, takes their cities, including Heshbon, and expands his territory. The Book of Jasher even includes a little ditty, a parable, about the rebuilding of Heshbon. "Come unto Heshbon," it says, "the city of Sihon will be built and established."

All this conquering nets Balaam and his dad a hefty reward of silver and gold, and they head back to Mesopotamia.

Finally, after all that meandering, the Israelites circle back to Edom. Moses sends messengers, asking for passage through their land. But Edom, remembering past conflicts or simply being unwelcoming, refuses. Again, the Israelites are commanded not to fight. They're stuck wandering again, this time around Edom.

Eventually, they arrive at Mount Hor. And here, we reach a somber moment. God tells Moses that his brother, Aaron, will die there. Aaron ascends the mountain and passes away at the age of 123. It’s a powerful reminder of the human cost, even for those closest to God, of this long and arduous journey.

So, what do we take away from this chapter of Jasher? It's a reminder that even with a grand destination, the journey can be circuitous, filled with detours, and encounters with others. It highlights the importance of boundaries, both physical and divinely ordained, and the need to navigate a complex world even when you're on a sacred mission. And ultimately, it reminds us that even in the midst of a nation's journey, individual lives, with their own beginnings and endings, continue to unfold.

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Shemot Rabbah 31:16Shemot Rabbah

The book of Exodus, specifically 22:27, lays down a firm rule: "You shall not curse judges, [and a prince among your people you shall not revile]." Seems straightforward. But Rabbi Meir, as quoted in Shemot Rabbah 31, sees something deeper. He says that God is especially strict about honoring judges – those who teach justice – and the king.

Why this extra emphasis? Well, while it's generally wrong to curse anyone, the Torah highlights these figures. Shemot Rabbah uses this verse to show us that the respect for leaders and those in positions of guidance is paramount.

Think about Korah and his rebellion. According to Shemot Rabbah, their punishment stemmed from disrespecting Moses and Aaron. It wasn't just disagreement; it was a fundamental challenge to divinely ordained leadership. Similarly, the people of Jerusalem were punished for "insult[ing] the messengers of God" (II (Chronicles 36:1)6), their faces "hardened…more than a rock" refusing repentance (Jeremiah 5:3). Disrespect for those guiding the people, those speaking truth, carries serious consequences.

This is why, Shemot Rabbah continues, God emphasizes honoring elders and the righteous. (Proverbs 1:6) tells us to understand "proverbs and aphorisms, the words of the wise and their riddles." Why? Because, as Shemot Rabbah suggests, they safeguard Israel from idol worship.

It's a fascinating connection. The text then quotes (Exodus 23:13): "And everything that I have said to you, you shall observe, and the name of other gods you shall not mention." Shemot Rabbah argues that if we follow all the commandments, including respecting judges (which stems from respecting elders), we'll avoid idolatry.

Immediately after this, we find the commandment about the three pilgrimage festivals (Exodus 23:17). What's the link? Shemot Rabbah offers two explanations. First, these festivals – Pesach (Passover), Shavuot (Festival of Weeks/Harvest), and Sukkot (Festival of Tabernacles/Ingathering) – draw us closer to God. Pesach commemorates the Exodus, God’s miracles in Egypt; Shavuot marks the giving of the Torah, a gift whose "fruit is better than gold" (Proverbs 8:19); and Sukkot celebrates God filling our homes with blessing, as it is written "Honor the Lord with your wealth [and with the first fruits of all your produce]" (Proverbs 3:9). By traveling to the Temple, we reinforce our commitment to monotheism.

The second explanation, citing Pesachim 118a, is even more direct: denigrating the festivals is akin to worshipping idols. Disrespecting sacred times and practices weakens our connection to God, opening the door to other, less wholesome, influences.

So, what's the takeaway? It's not just about blindly obeying authority. It’s about recognizing the value of wisdom, guidance, and the importance of maintaining a society rooted in respect for tradition and the Divine. By honoring those who teach and lead, and by actively participating in sacred practices, we strengthen our connection to God and protect ourselves from straying down the wrong path. What does that look like in our lives today? That's something to ponder.

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Midrash Tehillim 32:1Midrash Tehillim

Midrash Tehillim turns to What Happened to Korah's Sons After They Repented.

It all begins with a verse from Proverbs (15:24): "The path of life leads upward for the wise." What does it mean to look upward? The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) uses the story of the sons of Korach to illustrate this point. Remember Korach's rebellion against Moses? His sons, unlike their father, chose to look upward, to acknowledge God. And what happened? They were saved. As (Psalm 34:6) says, "Look to Him and be radiant." Their father, however, did not look upward, and the earth swallowed him whole. "They went down alive into Sheol" (Numbers 16:33), the Midrash reminds us, Sheol being the land of the dead, the underworld.

The Midrash then connects this idea to David himself. "To David, the intelligent one," it says, emphasizing that David's ability to look upward, to acknowledge his imperfections and seek forgiveness, was the key to his greatness. It wasn't about being perfect; it was about striving for something higher.

It's not just for the righteous. Even the wicked, the Midrash suggests, can find forgiveness by looking upward. If even Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian king, could find redemption by raising his eyes to heaven (Daniel 4:34), then surely there's hope for all of us. And for the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – for the people of Israel – looking upward is even more powerful.

But what does it mean, practically, to "look upward"? The Midrash implies it's about acknowledging our sins and confessing them before God. Think of David, who, despite his flaws, was considered a successful leader. (1 (Samuel 18:1)4) tells us that "David had success in all his endeavors, for the Lord was with him." And because of this success, and his subsequent humility, he was covered for sin. He desisted from his negative actions and confessed before God, as he himself says in (Psalm 32:5): "I acknowledged my sin to You, and I did not conceal my iniquity."

It's a beautiful and surprisingly simple message: that the path to a better life isn't about perfection, but about direction. It's about choosing to look upward, to acknowledge our mistakes, and to strive for something greater. It’s about recognizing that even in our darkest moments, there's always the possibility of forgiveness and redemption. So, the next time you feel lost or overwhelmed, remember the wisdom of the Midrash: look up. What do you see? What possibilities await?

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Legends of the Jews, I. Joseph, Joseph's Kindness And GenerosityLegends of the Jews

The story of Joseph in Egypt, as retold in Legends of the Jews by Ginzberg, offers us a powerful lesson in these very qualities.

After years of hardship, Jacob and his family finally settle in Goshen. And Joseph? He doesn't just provide for them. He showers them with kindness. Ginzberg tells us that Joseph supplies them with everything they need: food, drink, even clothing! He welcomes them to his table daily, a symbol of his complete forgiveness. Can you After being sold into slavery by his own brothers, he entertains them as honored guests.

He even asks his father, Jacob, to pray for his brothers, that God might forgive their "great transgression." Jacob, deeply moved, exclaims, "O Joseph, my child, thou hast conquered the heart of thy father Jacob!"

Joseph's generosity extended far beyond his family. He earned the title "the God-fearing one," a title shared only by Abraham, Job, and Obadiah. This wasn't just about following rules; it was about the generosity of his spirit. Whatever he gave, he gave with a "good eye," meaning he gave freely and abundantly. Even the crumbs were plentiful enough for children to enjoy!

And remember, this was during a famine. While Pharaoh hoarded grain, Joseph provided for the entire world. The people cursed Pharaoh but blessed Joseph for his compassion.

The wealth Joseph acquired from selling grain was considered lawful, because, as Legends of the Jews tells us, the prices were raised by the Egyptians themselves, not by him. What did he do with all this wealth? Well, that's where it gets really interesting.

Joseph buried a good part of it – gold, silver, precious stones – in four secret locations: the desert near the Red Sea, the banks of the Euphrates, and two spots in the Persian and Median deserts. According to tradition, Korah found one hiding place, and the Roman emperor Antoninus, son of Severus, found another. But the other two? They remain hidden, reserved by God for the pious in the days of the Messiah.

The rest of Joseph's wealth he gave away, some to his brothers and their families, and some to Pharaoh, who added it to his treasury. All the world’s wealth flowed into Egypt, and it stayed there until the Exodus, when the Israelites left "like a net without fish," taking it all with them. As the story continues, this treasure passes through many hands: from the Israelites to King Shishak, then to Zerah the Ethiopian, back to the Jews under King Asa, then to the Arameans, the Ammonites, and finally, after many more turns, to the Romans.

But Joseph's influence on Egypt didn't stop at distributing grain. When the people ran out of money, they sold their livestock, then their land, and finally, even themselves to Joseph. He bought all the land of Egypt, making the people his tenants. They gave a fifth of their harvest to Joseph. The only exception? The priests.

Joseph showed gratitude to the priests, because they were the ones who vouched for his innocence when he was accused of adultery by Potiphar's wife. They suggested examining the tear in his garment to determine his guilt or innocence. The angel Gabriel intervened, moving the tear to prove Joseph's innocence, thus clearing the path for him to become ruler.

As we find in Midrash Rabbah, God remarked that if priests who served idols received their needs daily, surely the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who were God’s priests, deserved the same.

Finally, Joseph relocated the Egyptians, mixing up their provinces. Why? To prevent them from looking down on his brothers as "exiles." He wanted everyone to be equally alien, as the text explains. This concept of displacement is echoed later when God causes all nations to change their dwelling places during the Exodus, so the Israelites couldn't be reproached for leaving their home. And again, when Sennacherib exiled the Jews, he first mixed up the inhabitants of all countries.

So, what does Joseph's story teach us? It's not just a tale of forgiveness and generosity; it's a reminder that true leadership involves providing for others, treating everyone with respect, and using your power to create a more equitable world. It challenges us to consider how we can embody these qualities in our own lives, no matter how big or small our sphere of influence. How can we be more like Joseph?

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