Covenant of Peace: Thoughts on Prashat Pinchas - Rabbi Rodrigo Baumworcel

This week we read Parashat Pinchas, a portion that, generation after generation, raises deep and painful questions. The story of Pinchas, who receives divine praise and recognition for an extremely zealous act of killing, seems at first glance to be an anomaly within the broader moral landscape of our Torah. It compels us to grapple with inherent tensions and sharp interpretations, especially in light of the moral challenges facing our own generation.

Reading the Torah is not a linear reading of disconnected stories. It requires us to hold onto the principles we have received in earlier books. We cannot read the book of Numbers without the eyes and heart shaped by Leviticus, and especially by Parashat Kedoshim - the parashah that defines the essence of Israel’s holiness, teaching us what God expects from us and how to dedicate our lives.

How can we read the story of Pinchas without resonating within ourselves the verse:

This verse calls us to a path of correction through dialogue, through sincere rebuke that does not stem from hidden hatred in the heart. Pinchas did not rebuke. He acted immediately, uncompromisingly, and with lethal violence. Does this bypass the mechanism of rebuke that the Torah commands? In extreme situations, does rebuke lose its power? And if so, who determines the threshold of extremism that justifies such a severe deviation from the norm?

Moreover, I ask with pain and trembling: how can we read Parashat Pinchas without holding onto the foundational verse of all moral teaching:

This verse, commanding universal love for others and forbidding revenge and bearing grudges, seems to stand in stark contrast to Pinchas’s act, perceived as revenge for the desecration of God’s name and the harm to the people. If God Himself forbids us to take revenge, how does He grant a “Covenant of Peace” to someone who acts so zealously that it spills into deadly violence? Is there divine justification for violence in certain cases? And if so, what are its boundaries?

The difficulty intensifies even more when facing the most basic commandment: “You shall not murder,” given to all humanity. Is it possible that “the Judge of all the earth shall not do justice” (Genesis 18:25)?

Can God, the righteous and upright, forgive such a grave transgression as taking a life and even reward it? I have no desire for the covenant of peace granted to Pinchas if such peace is acquired at the cost of blood and trampling on the most fundamental moral commandments.

We live in a generation where, unfortunately, we encounter many descendants of Pinchas in the occupied territories in the West Bank. People who believe that in the name of God they can kill, set fire to cars or homes, seize land, and so on. This is a terrifying consequence, where a particular interpretation of a biblical story becomes a justification for unrestrained violence. When the violence in the occupied territories in the West Bank is carried out by misguided soldiers who are not protecting human lives, we see an even greater danger- the transfer of law enforcement authority into private hands, undermining the authority of the state and principles of justice. Pinchas essentially sets a precedent for violence in the name of God, and his outlook discards any possibility for true correction. If the way to deal with sin is solely through force and violence, there is no place for repentance, forgiveness, dialogue, or real change.

I prefer to remain with the lesson that Hillel the Elder teaches us in Pirkei Avot:

This is a call for empathy, for deep understanding, and for the effort to see the world from another person’s perspective.

It is a path that prevents violence and promotes reconciliation. Because what would happen if everyone took up a sword to kill anyone they thought was making a mistake? Such a society is doomed to anarchy and chaos.

Have we, mistakenly, taken for ourselves Isaac’s blessing to Esau:

Should we, as children of Jacob, choose a different path—the path of learning, argumentation, kindness, and peace?

Our challenge, as rabbis and spiritual leaders, is to instill a deep and responsible interpretation of our sacred texts. We must emphasize the value of the sanctity of life, the necessity of dialogue and resolving conflicts through peaceful means, and the danger inherent in taking the law into our own hands. Only in this way can we ensure that a “covenant of peace” is truly a covenant of peace—inner and outer peace—and not a justification for violence.

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