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Phinehas Divided His Army into Warriors, Baggage Guards, and Prayers

Before crossing into Midian, Phinehas split his twelve thousand men into three parts. One third would fight. One third would guard. One third would only pray.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Before a Single Soldier Crossed Over
  2. The Three Parts of the Army
  3. Why a Third of the Army Only Prayed
  4. What Moses Gave Phinehas at the Border
  5. The Gold Plate and the Fall

Before a Single Soldier Crossed Over

Twelve thousand men assembled on the east bank of the Jordan. One thousand from each of the twelve tribes, selected by lot, carrying their weapons and the sacred vessels Moses had given them. Phinehas stood at their head with the gold plate from the high priestly crown, the one inscribed with the divine name, which he would use before the battle was over in a way no general had ever used a priestly object before. But before any of that, he did something no one was expecting: he divided his army into thirds, and one of those thirds was never going to fight.

The account is preserved in the Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzberg's synthesis published between 1909 and 1938, drawing from the Talmud Bavli's tractate Sotah and from Numbers Rabbah (5th-century Palestine). The three divisions were not a formation in the tactical sense. They were a structure of three different relationships to the battle, each one essential to the outcome, none of them identical to the others.

The Three Parts of the Army

The first third would engage Midian's forces directly. These were the warriors, the soldiers in the conventional sense, the men whose bodies and weapons and training were the instrument of the military operation. What they did was visible, measurable, dangerous. They were the ones who would cross the Jordan and meet Midian on ground.

The second third would guard the baggage. This was not a demotion or a consolation assignment. The supply lines, the provisions, the sacred vessels, the equipment that made the campaign possible - these required protection from a dedicated force. An army without secure logistics is not an army for long. The baggage-guarders were doing the work that kept the warriors able to fight.

The third part would not fight. They would not guard anything. They would stand apart from the battle and pray, continuously, for the duration of the engagement. They would intercede with God to grant victory to their brothers on the front line. They were a permanent operational component, not a reserve waiting to be activated, not a chaplaincy auxiliary. They were as essential to the battle as the warriors - doing work that was invisible and unmeasurable and without which, the tradition holds, the visible and measurable work could not succeed.

Why a Third of the Army Only Prayed

The Talmud Bavli does not treat Phinehas's three-part division as a tactical innovation specific to the Midian campaign. It reads it as the embodiment of a principle: physical combat is never sufficient on its own. Any force that believes it wins through superior weapons and superior tactics alone has misunderstood the nature of winning. The outcome of a battle is not determined only by what happens on the field. It is determined by whether the forces beyond the field - the divine engagement with the effort - are present and aligned with the fighters.

The pray-ers made that alignment their job. They were not praying for themselves. They were not praying in a general way that God bless the campaign. They were actively and continuously interceding for their brothers on the front line, naming the battle, naming the need, sustaining the connection between the fighters and the divine support that the tradition understood as the actual mechanism of military victory. When every Israelite soldier came home - the tradition in Numbers Rabbah emphasizes this detail about the Midian war: not one died - the pray-ers had done something that contributed to that outcome as directly as the warriors had.

What Moses Gave Phinehas at the Border

Moses did not simply hand Phinehas a sword and wish him well. The equipping of Phinehas for this campaign, as the tradition records it, was precise and deliberate. The sacred vessels - the Urim and Tummim, the priestly instruments of divine consultation - went with the army. The gold plate of the high priestly crown went with Phinehas specifically, because Phinehas was going to need it for what was coming at the end of the battle, when the battle had been won on the ground and one enemy remained in the air.

Balaam was there at Midian. He had advised the seduction operation at Shittim. He had been present in Midian as a counselor to the five Midianite kings. When the battle turned and the Midianite armies were breaking, Balaam and his sons Jannes and Jambres used their sorcery to lift themselves into the air, flying above the reach of the Israelite soldiers. The battle was won but Balaam was escaping it.

The Gold Plate and the Fall

Phinehas held up the gold plate, the one with the divine name inscribed on it, and the sorcery that had lifted Balaam into the air failed. Balaam fell. The priest whose lance had stopped the plague at Shittim had now grounded the prophet whose counsel had started the operation that produced the plague. The gold plate - the physical object associated with the divine name and the direct access to God that Aaron's priestly line carried - was the instrument that neutralized the sorcery that no weapon could have reached.

None of the twelve thousand soldiers died. The five Midianite kings died. Balaam died. The army came back across the Jordan with the captured livestock and the taken spoils and presented themselves to Moses at the banks of the river. Moses verified the count. Everyone was there. The pray-ers had prayed, the baggage-guarders had guarded, the warriors had fought, and Phinehas had used the gold plate at the end to finish what his lance had begun at Shittim.


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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.

Legends of the Jews 6:104Legends of the Jews

The familiar reading treats these stories, but the details… the nitty-gritty… well, those are sometimes left to our imagination. But the Legends of the Jews, as compiled by Ginzberg, fills in many of those gaps, drawing on centuries of rabbinic thought. And the story of the war against Midian is a prime example.

Phinehas is in charge, and his army isn't just a fighting force; it's a carefully orchestrated machine, divided into three parts. One third are the actual warriors, ready to clash with the enemy. Another third? They’re guarding the baggage, making sure the army's supplies are safe. But the final third. now, They are praying, constantly beseeching God to grant victory to their brothers on the battlefield.

Moses doesn't just hand Phinehas a sword and say, "Good luck!" He equips him with the most potent weapons imaginable. First, there's the Holy Ark, which, as we know, always accompanies Israel into battle. Then comes the Urim ve-Tummim, (אוּרִים וְתֻמִּים) those mysterious objects used for divination, allowing Phinehas to consult directly with God when needed.

There’s more! According to the legend, Moses gives Phinehas the gold plate from the High Priest's forehead. Why? Because that wily Balaam, that sorcerer, is expected to use his magic to fly into the air – and even enable the five Midianite kings to fly with him! Moses instructs Phinehas to hold up the gold plate, which is engraved with God's name. The power of God’s name, exposed in this way, will cause Balaam and the kings to plummet to the earth. And guess what? It works! They all come crashing down.

So, what happens to Balaam after that? Well, the Israelites didn't exactly show mercy. They executed him according to Jewish law. That means… hanging, burning, decapitation, and then, to really drive the point home, dropping his lifeless body back into the fire. It's a brutal end for a man who tried to curse Israel.

Now, here's a fascinating detail. Even though God commanded them to wage this war against Midian to avenge the wrongs done to them, the Israelites still approached it with a degree of… humanity. As the story goes, they attacked the Midianite cities from only three sides, leaving one side open for escape. They didn't want to completely cut off the possibility of flight. Victory was theirs. They captured cities filled with temples, idols, and palaces. The five kings of Midian? They shared Balaam's fate, meeting their end at the hands of the Israelites. It was a communal destruction, as they had all been united in their desire to destroy Israel.

It makes you think, doesn't it? Balaam traveled all the way from Mesopotamia, expecting riches for his wicked advice. Instead, he found death at the hands of the very people he sought to harm. A stark reminder that sometimes, what we seek most fervently leads us to our own undoing. The story of Balaam’s end, as recounted in Legends of the Jews, is a powerful and cautionary tale.

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Legends of the Jews 6:106Legends of the Jews

Our story today takes us into the realm of magic, betrayal, and a desperate attempt to outrun destiny. It’s a wild ride, so buckle up.

We know him from the Torah, where he’s hired by Balak, king of Moab, to curse the Israelites. But, as Ginzberg tells us in Legends of the Jews, Balaam's story doesn't end with his failed attempts to curse Israel. Oh no, it gets much more dramatic.

Balaam, caught red-handed, tries to escape the wrath of Phinehas, a zealous priest and leader of the Israelite army. How does he do it? He takes to the skies! Yes, you read that right. Balaam uses his mastery of sorcery, aided by his equally wizardly sons, Jannes and Jambres (names that echo through magical lore), to literally fly away.

Picture the scene: Phinehas and his army watching in disbelief as Balaam ascends. Phinehas, never one to back down from a challenge, shouts, "Is there any one among us who is able to fly after this villain?"

Enter Zaliah, a Danite and, according to the tale, a "past master in the art of sorcery." He answers the call and gives chase, soaring into the air after Balaam. It’s like a wizarding duel, but with higher stakes.

But Balaam is slippery. He’s not just flying; he's weaving through different "layers of air," whatever that means! He manages to lose Zaliah, vanishing from sight. Poor Zaliah is left stranded, unsure of what to do next.

That's when Phinehas steps in, using his own magical abilities. He dispels the clouds concealing Balaam, revealing him to Zaliah. Now exposed, Balaam is forced to descend and face Phinehas.

Balaam, desperate, pleads for his life, promising never to curse Israel again. But Phinehas isn’t buying it. He launches into a scathing indictment of Balaam's past transgressions. "Art not thou the Aramean Laban who tried to destroy our father Jacob?" Phinehas asks, reminding him of his long history of animosity toward the Israelites. He recounts Balaam's involvement with Amalek and his disastrous advice to Balak, which led to the sin with the daughters of Moab and the death of twenty-four thousand Israelites. According to this account, Balaam's wickedness stretched far and wide.

Phinehas condemns him: "In vain therefore dost thou plead that thy life be spared."

He orders Zaliah to execute Balaam, but with a crucial caveat: "be sure not to kill him through the holy name of God, as it does not befit so great a sinner to meet his death in such a way." Even in meting out justice, there's a concern for the sacred.

But it's not so simple. Balaam's magic protects him from ordinary weapons. Zaliah's initial attempts to kill him fail. He’s seemingly invincible.

Finally, Phinehas provides the solution: a sword engraved with a serpent on both sides, accompanied by the cryptic words, "Kill him with that to which he belongs, through this he will die." This, my friends, is poetic justice at its finest. Balaam, the master of dark arts, will be defeated by a weapon imbued with the very symbolism of his wickedness. And with this sword, Zaliah finally ends Balaam's life.

What are we to make of this fantastical tale? It’s more than just a story of good versus evil. It's a reminder that actions have consequences and that even the most powerful magic cannot ultimately shield someone from the repercussions of their choices. Balaam's story, as retold in Legends of the Jews, becomes a potent symbol of the futility of trying to escape accountability, no matter how high you fly.

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