We find this story in Ginzberg's retelling of the Legends of the Jews, and it’s a doozy. Remember Phinehas? He's the zealous priest who took matters into his own hands, remember, slaying Zimri and Cozbi in a fit of righteous fury. But did you know just how many miracles were said to have accompanied his act?
The text says that Phinehas feared retaliation. Makes sense, right? But God, it seems, was totally on Phinehas's side. No less than twelve miracles, the story goes, were performed to protect him and demonstrate divine approval of his actions. Twelve! It’s almost comical in its extravagance.
First, an angel supposedly prevented the sinful couple from separating when Phinehas surprised them. Like some divine stage manager, ensuring they were in position for the big scene. Second, this angel also silenced them, so they couldn't cry out for help. No escape for them.
Then comes the really… graphic part. The third miracle was that Phinehas's lance struck the man's and the woman's… well, their private parts. The fourth miracle? The lance extended, piercing both of them with a single thrust. One-hit wonder, right? Except it gets even more unbelievable.
The fifth miracle was that Phinehas's arm was strong enough to lift both bodies on his lance. Sixth, the wooden shaft of the lance held their combined weight. Seventh, the bodies stayed put, refusing to fall off. Eighth, an angel rotated the impaled pair, giving everyone a clear view of what Phinehas had interrupted. Talk about public shaming!
Now, you might be thinking about the mess, the gore, the potential ritual impurity. But miracle number nine? No blood flowed. Otherwise, Phinehas would have been defiled. Tenth, the couple didn't die immediately, because their corpses would also have defiled him. It’s a gruesome dance of divine intervention, all to maintain Phinehas's purity.
Miracle eleven is maybe the most absurd: the angel raised the doorposts so Phinehas could carry the impaled couple through. Because apparently, doorway height is a concern even when you're performing a divinely sanctioned execution.
Finally, the twelfth miracle: when the tribe of Simeon, angered by the death of Zimri, planned to avenge him, God sent a plague to incapacitate them. Talk about sending a message!
So, what are we to make of this? It’s a story filled with violence, zealotry, and frankly, bizarre miracles. It paints a picture of a God deeply invested in the details, micromanaging every aspect of Phinehas's actions. Whether you view it as a testament to divine justice or a cautionary tale about religious extremism, it’s undeniable that the story of Phinehas leaves a lasting impression. It certainly leaves one wondering about the nature of zealotry, divine endorsement, and the lengths to which stories will go to justify actions taken in the name of faith.