Now for a quick devar Torah. In this week's parsha, Parshat Korach, one of the figures who appears briefly is On ben Pelet. At the beginning of the rebellion he is listed among Korach's followers, but then something very strange happens: he disappears from the story. When Korach and his followers confront Moshe, On ben Pelet is nowhere to be found. What happened to him? The Gemara tells us the rest of the story. On ben Pelet's wife sat him down and asked him a simple question: "What exactly do you stand to gain from this rebellion? If Moshe remains leader, you'll still be a follower. And if Korach becomes leader, you'll still be a follower. Either way, you're not the one who will be in charge." On answered that he had already pledged himself to Korach. So, according to the Gemara, his wife got him drunk, put him to bed, and he slept through the rebellion. By the time he woke up, Korach and his followers had met their fate—and On ben Pelet's life had been saved. The Sages praise On's wife for her wisdom because she saw something much deeper. She understood that Korach's rebellion was not really about lofty ideals. Korach dressed his arguments in beautiful language: "The entire congregation is holy. Why should Moshe and Aharon rule over us?" He spoke of equality and fairness. He accused Moshe of favoritism and nepotism. But beautiful words do not always reveal true motives. Throughout history, people seeking power have often wrapped their ambitions in noble slogans. They speak of equality, justice, or the good of the people. Yet sometimes beneath those words lies a simple desire for power and honor. The communist movements of the twentieth century often promised a classless society in which everyone would be equal and exploitation would disappear. Those promises attracted millions. But in many places, once power was attained, a small ruling elite emerged while ordinary people remained poor and without freedom. As the old saying went, "All are equal, but some are more equal than others." The Sages suggest that had Korach succeeded, his followers would soon have begun fighting among themselves over who should lead. The rebellion was not truly about serving the people—it was about who would hold authority. Moshe represents the exact opposite model of leadership. Moshe never sought power. At the burning bush, God had to persuade him repeatedly to accept leadership. Again and again Moshe says, in effect, "Please send someone else." He did not want the position. But when he realized that the task had to be done and that he was the one capable of doing it, he accepted the burden. That is the difference between a seeker of power and a true leader. A seeker of power asks, "What can this position do for me?" A true leader asks, "What responsibility must I accept for others?" The Torah describes Moshe as the humblest of men. Yet humility does not mean refusing responsibility. Humility means understanding that leadership is not about personal honor but about service. Perhaps one of the greatest examples of this outside the Torah was George Washington. After leading the American Revolution, some wanted to make Washington king. He refused. After serving two terms as president, he voluntarily stepped down and returned to Mount Vernon. In fact, he had to be persuaded even to serve a second term. Like Moshe, Washington understood that leadership is a burden to be carried, not an honor to be sought. The true leader says not, "How can I gain power?" but rather, "How can I serve?" The lesson applies not only to leaders but to all of us. In Jewish life there are mitzvot that need to be done, communities that need support, and people who need help. Sometimes we may prefer that someone else step forward. But if no one else will do it, perhaps that responsibility falls to us. May we learn from Moshe's humility, from On ben Pelet's wife’s wisdom, and remember that true greatness lies not in seeking honor, but in serving others. Something to think about.
