Parshat Korach5 min read

Korah Fell Into Gehinnom and His Sons Found a Way Back Up

Three hundred mules carried the keys to Korah's treasure houses. The earth opened and took him. His sons were spared and composed psalms from inside Sheol.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Ground Opened
  2. What Korah Owned Before He Fell
  3. The Sons Who Did Not Fall
  4. The Voice From Below

The Ground Opened

Korah had been making his case all morning. "The whole congregation is holy," he said. "Every one of them. God is in their midst. Who are you, Moses, to elevate yourself above them?" He had two hundred and fifty men behind him, leaders of the congregation, people of renown. He had Dathan and Abiram. He had the weight of a legitimate grievance dressed in the language of democratic principle. He had everything except the thing that was actually happening underneath his feet.

The ground opened. Not cracked. Not subsided. Opened, like a mouth, and Korah and Dathan and Abiram and all their households went down alive into Sheol while the congregation of Israel ran screaming. The ground closed over them. The two hundred and fifty men with incense pans were consumed by fire. And the congregation that had been listening to Korah's argument two hours earlier fell on their faces and then ran, because the screaming was still in the air and the ground had just done something no one had ever seen it do.

What Korah Owned Before He Fell

The Legends of the Jews situates the rebellion inside Korah's biography. He was not a nobody with a grievance. He was Pharaoh's treasurer. Three hundred white mules, the tradition says, just to carry the keys to his storehouses. He controlled more gold and silver than any private individual in Egypt. When Israel left Egypt, Korah brought his wealth with him, and in the wilderness of Sinai he was the wealthiest man in the nation.

The Midrash applied a verse from Proverbs directly to him: whoever trusts in his riches will fall. Korah's rebellion was not simply a theological argument about the distribution of priestly authority. He had been the richest man in the most powerful empire in the world. Now he lived in a tent and ate manna and watched Moses make decisions he believed he should be making. The words he constructed about the holiness of the whole congregation sounded clean in the open air. They came from a man who had lost a position he believed his wealth had entitled him to, and the tradition saw through the argument to the injury underneath it.

The Sons Who Did Not Fall

Korah's sons did not go down with him. The Torah notes this briefly: the sons of Korah did not die. The tradition found this detail overwhelming and spent centuries inside it. How did they survive? What did they do in the moment the ground opened? The aggadic material on what happened to Korah's sons after they repented records that they had repented in their hearts at the last moment, turned away from their father's rebellion, and were held on a ledge inside Sheol, a platform that was prepared for them above the descent.

They sat on that ledge and they sang. Psalms 42 through 49, 84, 85, 87, and 88 carry their names in the headings. The sons of Korah composed some of the most anguished and beautiful poetry in the entire biblical canon, and they composed it from inside Sheol. As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and see the face of God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, "Where is your God?" These are not the psalms of a man comfortable in his circumstances. They are the psalms of a man calling out from the lowest place he has ever been, and they are addressed to the God who put him there.

The Voice From Below

The tradition records that Moses could still hear Korah's company calling from below the ground. Not in despair and not in rebellion. The voice the earth had swallowed was calling out that Moses was true and his Torah was true. The reversal was total. Korah had argued in the open assembly that Moses had elevated himself without authority. Now Korah, beneath the ground, in Sheol, testified to the authority of Moses from inside the punishment his argument had brought him.

The company of Korah would be released, the tradition holds, in the time of the resurrection. They went down alive and they will come up alive. The ground that opened received them still breathing, and they will emerge still breathing, changed by everything that happened in between. The psalms they composed from the ledge in Sheol are still being sung in synagogues around the world. The voice that fell into the earth did not go silent. It found a way to keep speaking.

KorahGehinnomSolomonRepentanceRebellionSheol
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From the tradition

Sources

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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.

Legends of the Jews 5:2Legends of the Jews

He wasn't a Canaanite, those ancient inhabitants of the land of Israel. But, like some of them, Korah serves as a cautionary tale: immense wealth, squandered by pride. The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) tells us that Korah was no ordinary man; he was Pharaoh's treasurer! Imagine the coffers he oversaw, the sheer volume of gold and silver. They say he had 300 white mules just to carry the keys to his treasure rooms! It's a mind-boggling image, isn't it? As (Proverbs 11:28) says, "He that trusts in his riches shall fall." And fall, Korah did.

So, how did he amass such a fortune? The story, as retold by Ginzberg in Legends of the Jews, is quite fascinating. Remember Joseph, from the Book of Genesis? When he was second-in-command in Egypt, and oversaw the grain distribution during the years of famine? Well, all that grain was paid for, and Joseph, being an honest man, amassed tremendous wealth for Pharaoh. He built three enormous storehouses, each a hundred cubits wide, long, and high – absolutely packed with money. And when the famine ended, he turned it all over to Pharaoh. Joseph was too scrupulous to even keep a few silver shekels for his own family. Korah, somehow, discovered one of these hidden treasuries. Can you imagine stumbling upon such a find?

This incredible wealth led to his downfall. As we find in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), "Who is rich? He who is happy with his lot." Korah, it seems, was not. His newfound riches swelled his ego, and he began to feel slighted. He became convinced that Moses had unfairly favored others, specifically by appointing his cousin Elizaphan as the chief of the Kohathite Levites.

Korah's argument, as presented in Numbers 16, went something like this: "My grandfather, Kohath, had four sons: Amram, Izhar, Hebron, and Uzziel. Amram, being the eldest, got all the perks – Aaron is the High Priest, and Moses is the king! But I, the son of Izhar, the second son, should be the prince of the Kohathites! But Moses skipped over me and appointed Elizaphan, whose father, Uzziel, was the youngest! I will stir up rebellion and overthrow everything!"

Now, Korah wasn't stupid. He was a wise man. The Zohar tells us that he knew God wouldn't just stand idly by while someone rebelled against Moses. But here's the tragic irony: Korah possessed a prophetic vision! He foresaw that Samuel, a prophet as great as both Aaron and Moses, would be his descendant. He also knew that twenty-four of his descendants, inspired by the Ruach (spirit) HaKodesh (Holy Spirit), would compose and sing Psalms in the Temple.

He thought to himself: "God wouldn't let the father of such righteous people perish, would He?" But Korah's vision wasn't clear enough. He didn't see that his own sons would repent of their rebellion and because of that repentance, they would be deemed worthy of fathering prophets and Temple singers. He only saw the glory of his future lineage, not his own tragic end.

And so, driven by pride and a distorted vision, Korah launched his rebellion, challenging the authority of Moses and Aaron. He focused on his perceived slight by Moses and the appointment of Elizaphan to incite others. The outcome, as we know, was catastrophic. The earth opened up and swallowed Korah and his followers. A truly terrifying end.

Korah's story is a powerful reminder that wealth and power, without humility and a clear vision of what truly matters, can lead to devastating consequences. It begs the question: What are we truly striving for? And are we willing to sacrifice our integrity, our relationships, and ultimately, ourselves, for the sake of ambition?

Full source
Legends of the Jews 5:22Legends of the Jews

A pretty definitive ending, it first appears.

The story doesn't stop there. Oh no. Jewish tradition loves to explore the "what happens next?" What happens to these rebels after such a cataclysmic event?

In Legends of the Jews, even that terrifying death wasn't enough to fully atone for Korah and his followers' sins. Their punishment, it turns out, continues in Gehenna – that's the Jewish concept of hell. Imagine an eternity of torment. That's already a pretty bleak picture. But there's more.

The story takes another turn. Every thirty days, Gehenna spits them back out, right near the spot where they were originally swallowed by the earth. Can you picture it? There they are, brought back to the very place of their demise.

And here’s the truly chilling part: if you were to put your ear to the ground on that specific day, you would hear them crying out. What would they be saying? "Moses is truth, and his Torah is truth, but we are liars." A confession, born of unending torment. A stark admission of their monumental error.

It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? What kind of cosmic justice demands such a drawn-out, repetitive punishment?

Even in the face of their grave sin, Korah and his followers weren't condemned to eternal damnation. There is an end in sight, eventually. The Legends of the Jews tell us that their punishment will finally cease after the Resurrection.

So, what does this all mean? Is it just a scary story meant to keep us in line? Or is there something deeper going on here? Perhaps it's a reminder that even the most severe punishments are not necessarily eternal. Maybe it speaks to the enduring power of repentance, even if that repentance comes from the depths of Gehenna itself. It certainly gives you something to think about.

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Legends of the Jews 5:23Legends of the Jews

You remember Korah. He was the guy who led a rebellion against Moses in the wilderness, challenging his authority. And, as we read in Numbers 16, the earth opened up and swallowed him and his entire company. Yikes.

That's not the end of the story.

The Legends of the Jews, that incredible collection of rabbinic stories compiled by Louis Ginzberg, gives us a fascinating epilogue. For a while, Korah and his crew are convinced they're doomed to eternal torment in Sheol, the underworld.

Then comes Hannah.

Yes, that Hannah, the mother of the prophet Samuel! The text doesn't specify that this is definitely the same Hannah, but it's a compelling connection! She offers them a prophecy, a lifeline. She quotes (1 Samuel 2:6), saying, "The Lord bringeth low, to Sheol, and lifteth up." In other words, even from the depths, there's the potential for redemption.

At first, Korah and his followers struggle to believe it. Can you blame them? They're literally in hell! But then, something amazing happens.

According to the legend, when God destroyed the Temple in Jerusalem (we're talking about the First Temple's destruction in 586 BCE), its portals sank deep into the earth, all the way down to Sheol. Now, this is where it gets really interesting. Korah and his company grab onto those portals, clinging to them with all their might. “If these portals return again upward," they say, "then through them shall we also return upward.”

Talk about faith!

And what happens next?

Well, God appoints them as guardians of these very portals. Their task? To stand guard until the portals, and they along with them, return to the upper world. It's a strange, almost paradoxical form of punishment and redemption rolled into one. They're still in the underworld, but they have a purpose, a responsibility, a connection to the world above.

What does it all mean?

Perhaps it's a reminder that even in the face of seemingly insurmountable consequences, hope remains. The Zohar, the central text of Kabbalah, often emphasizes the cyclical nature of existence, the idea that descent is often a prelude to ascent. Maybe Korah’s story is a powerful illustration of that principle. Even those who have fallen the furthest can find a path back, a way to contribute, a chance for renewal. Even, perhaps, a tikkun (spiritual repair) olam, a repairing of the world, from the most unlikely of places.

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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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