But the story doesn't end there. According to Legends of the Jews, compiled by Ginzberg, Phinehas wasn't satisfied with simply punishing the offenders. He felt compelled to reconcile God with Israel.
Imagine the scene: he throws the two dead bodies, a stark reminder of the transgression, onto the ground. And then, he cries out to God, "Why, alas! Hast Thou on account of the sins of these two slain twenty-four thousand Israelites!" He's referring, of course, to the devastating plague that struck Israel as a consequence of their sin. Twenty-four thousand lives lost!
Talk about bold.
And the angels? Well, they weren't impressed. They wanted to strike Phinehas down for his audacity. Can you blame them? Who was he to question the Almighty? But then, God intervenes. "Leave him in peace," He commands. "He is a zealot, the son of a zealot, and an appeaser of wrath, the son of an appeaser of wrath."
Think about that for a moment. God calls him a zealot – a kanai in Hebrew, someone passionately devoted, even to the point of being uncompromising. But it's not just him. His father, too, was a zealot, and both father and son were considered "appeasers of wrath." They had a knack for turning away divine anger.
What does this tell us? It suggests that even extreme actions, when motivated by a genuine desire to defend God's honor and protect the community, can be seen as righteous. But it also highlights the inherent danger in such zeal. It's a tightrope walk, isn't it?
Phinehas took decisive, even violent, action. And it's seen as devotion by God. Is that something we should all be striving for? Perhaps the lesson isn't about condoning violence, but about the burning need to stand up for what we believe in, and the importance of seeking reconciliation, even after taking drastic measures. It's a complex legacy, one that challenges us to examine our own motivations and actions, and to consider the potential consequences – both intended and unintended – of our zeal.