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Korah's Sons Became Lilies After the Fire

The sons of Korah stand in their father's shadow, known for rebellion and fire. Then Midrash Tehillim names them white lilies.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Sons Stood Under the Wrong Name
  2. The Psalm Opened With White Lilies
  3. Moses Opened the Eyes of the Wilderness
  4. Survival Passed Through Repentance

The Sons Stood Under the Wrong Name

Everyone knew what the name Korah meant. Fire coming out from before God. Earth opening its mouth. The children of that man were marked before they spoke. A family with that history was expected to produce thorns.

Isaiah knew what thorns did: they sprouted like grass and burned in the fire that came for them. Exodus knew it too: fire spread through the thorn bushes in that landscape. The sons of Korah stood in a tradition of images that predicted their ending before it arrived.

The Psalm Opened With White Lilies

Psalm 45 begins: for the leader, upon the white lilies, a maskil of the sons of Korah. The midrash stops at those words. Upon the white lilies. Why would the sons of Korah be named here, in a psalm whose opening image is flowers?

Because they are the lilies. That is the shock Midrash Tehillim delivers without softening. The children of the man associated with thorns and fire became the image of what survived. Not in spite of the fire but after it. The name that should have condemned them was the same name that introduced them to the poem.

Thorns in fire burn. Lilies survive. The distinction is not about the fire. It is about what the thing is before the fire reaches it.

Moses Opened the Eyes of the Wilderness

Psalm 119 says: open my eyes that I may behold wonders from Your Torah. Moses, according to the midrash, prayed something close to this. He asked to see what was hidden in the text, to understand the wonders that ordinary reading could not reach. The prayer itself was a form of humility. Even Moses, who received the Torah directly, knew that the surface was not the whole thing.

The connection to the sons of Korah is this: what Torah hides, prayer can uncover. The psalmist who prays for opened eyes is standing in the same posture as the sons of a rebel who turned from their father's choice toward the divine name. They could not change the father. They could choose what they saw when they looked at what remained.

Survival Passed Through Repentance

The rabbis say the sons of Korah repented. They did not join their father's rebellion at its height. They had a place prepared for them in the hollow of the earth, and they sat there while the ground swallowed what stood above them. The earth that opened its mouth for the father closed it short of the sons. They felt the ground heave and tilt around them, heard the noise of everything above going down, and the dust came up where the men had been. They sat in that pocket of held earth, in the dark, on a ledge the punishment did not reach, and they waited. They came up afterward.

The midrash does not dwell on how this happened. It dwells on the turn itself. A man can be the son of ruin and still become a psalm. The ground that opens for the father does not have to open for the son. What the world calls blood, God calls possibility.

The lilies in Psalm 45 are not decorative. They are the record of a family that was expected to be thorns and chose otherwise.

MidrashPsalmsKorahMosesTorah
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From the tradition

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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.

Midrash Tehillim 45:1Midrash Tehillim

Midrash Tehillim turns to Korah and Moses and the Wilderness.

The verse in question is (Psalm 45:1): "To the conductor over the white lilies, a wise song of friendship." But what do lilies have to do with anything? The midrash, the interpretive story, connects this to a seemingly unlikely group: the sons of Korah.

You probably remember Korah. He was the guy who led a rebellion against Moses in the wilderness. A pretty serious offense. We read in (Numbers 16:35) that "fire came out from the Lord and consumed them." Yikes. But here's the twist: the sons of Korah weren't consumed. They survived.

The Midrash explains this in a deeply symbolic way. Initially, everyone saw the sons of Korah as thorns. imagery. (Isaiah 33:12) says, "Thorns will sprout like grass in the fire." Not exactly a flattering description. And (Exodus 22:5) speaks of fire spreading to thorn bushes. They were associated with the destructive fire that engulfed their father’s rebellion.

So, how did these "thorns" become "lilies"? That’s the central question. The Midrash Tehillim tells us that the sons of Korah, despite their lineage, were chosen from among the thorns, spared from the consuming fire. God, blessed be He, saved them.

The Midrash then uses a parable to illustrate this point. Imagine a king entering a country where the people want to create a magnificent crown for him, studded with gold, precious stones, and pearls. But then, they realize something crucial: the king doesn't actually desire a crown of gold. "There are lilies here," they exclaim, and the people rejoice.

The parallel is striking. Korah and his assembly assumed God wanted grand, impressive things, vessels of gold, perhaps. But God says, as we find in (Haggai 2:8), "The silver is Mine, and the gold is Mine." Even incense, as (Isaiah 1:13) tells us, is an abomination to God in that context. So, what does God want?

Lilies.

The sons of Korah, recognizing this, declare, "We are lilies." And God responds, "You have been victorious." They demonstrated humility, perhaps repentance, a turning away from the arrogance of their father. This is why the Psalm is dedicated "to the conductor, on the white lilies, a song of friendship." It's a song about redemption, about finding grace even in the shadow of immense wrongdoing.

It's a powerful reminder that we are not necessarily defined by our past, or by the actions of our families. We have the capacity to choose a different path, to become something beautiful and fragrant, like a lily blooming from thorny roots.

What does it mean to be a "lily" in your own life? Where are the "thorns" you're trying to overcome? Perhaps the story of the sons of Korah offers a glimmer of hope, a reminder that transformation is always possible.

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Midrash Tehillim 119:18Midrash Tehillim

The Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic teachings and interpretations of the Book of Psalms, explores just that feeling, specifically in its exploration of Psalm 119.

'" (Psalm 119). But what does it really mean to keep God's words? The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) unpacks this idea, weaving in verses from across the Torah and the Prophets to reveal a powerful and intimate relationship between God and the Jewish people. Moses, in (Deuteronomy 7:6), tells the Israelites, "For you are a holy people to the Lord your God." But the Midrash Tehillim points out a subtle but crucial detail: the verse doesn't say "in you," but rather "in you the Lord your God has chosen." This seemingly small difference speaks volumes.

In Midrash, even one single Jew is more beloved before the Holy One, blessed be He, than all the nations of the world. (Isaiah 40:17) echoes this sentiment, stating, "All the nations are as nothing before Him." Quite a powerful thought, isn't it? But why?

The answer, the Midrash suggests, lies in a mutual choosing. “He chose you, and you chose Him." Just like it says in (Psalm 135:4), "For Jacob, He chose for Himself." God chose Jacob, and Jacob chose Him. This is a relationship, a covenant. It's not just a one-way street.

The Song of Songs (6:3) beautifully captures this reciprocal love: "I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine." The Midrash sees this as God saying to us, "You are My portion," and we, in turn, declaring, as it says in (Lamentations 3:24), "My portion, O Lord."

So, what does God ask of us in return for this profound connection? Not grand gestures or impossible feats. According to the Midrash, it's something much simpler, much more intimate. God asks us to keep His words in our hearts, to live by them. As (Deuteronomy 6:6-7) states, "And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart…". Similarly, (Deuteronomy 11:18) urges, "Therefore, you shall lay up these words of mine in your heart."

This brings us back to the opening statement: "I said, 'I will keep Your words.'" It's not just about rote memorization or empty promises. It's about internalizing God's teachings, making them a part of who we are, and living a life guided by those principles. It's about the ongoing dialogue, the reciprocal love, the shared portion.

The Midrash Tehillim concludes with a prayer: "I entreat Your favor with all my heart; be gracious to me according to Your promise." This is a reference to (Exodus 33:19), where God proclaims, "and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion." It's a plea for grace, a recognition of our dependence on God's mercy and love.

So, what does it all mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that we are not just individuals, but part of a larger story, a sacred covenant. A story of mutual choosing, of reciprocal love, and of a God who cherishes each and every one of us. And maybe, just maybe, that’s a story worth keeping close to our hearts.

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