By R’ Sholom Mordechai Rubashkin

Our parsha concludes the saga of Midyan, which began back in parshas Balak. Before we move on, it’s worthwhile to register the important lesson at the center of this story that’s too often obscured, I feel, by sensibilities and attitudes we’ve absorbed from the world around us.

The Yidden had been manipulated by Midyan on Bilaam’s advice, brought to temptation unexpectedly under the guise of innocent commerce, and many had fallen prey to their yetzer hara. The Yidden were judged for their choices, and the consequences of the aveira were swift and severe. A plague ravaged the camp, killing thousands, primarily among the shevet of Shimon.

“Help us!” the bnei Shimon cried, turning to Zimri, their nasi, for help. ”How can you sit and do nothing while your people are suffering?!”

Zimri felt their pain and set out to help them – and he made the terrible mistake which many today celebrate as a virtue.

He didn’t tell his tribesmen the difficult, painful truth that they needed to hear. The simple truth is that a Mitzvah connects a Yid with Hashem, the source of life, while an avera damages or severs the connection with Hashem and with life.

He should have urged them to do teshuva. “This pain is the result of your actions. Stop sinning, reconnect with Hashem, the Source of life and blessing – and you will stop dying.”

Instead, he was inclusive, accepting, and validating, defending their behavior, seeking heterim to condone and authorize it, and even attacking the tzaddik, navi, and nasi hador in order to justify the misdeeds of his people. To put an exclamation mark on it, he even went on to do the very same aveira for which his shevet was being punished, claiming there was no sin in it.

In the newspaper and in sophisticated social circles, his kind, accepting, and considerate words and actions were surely praised as wonderful. In the real world, people died.

The ehrliche Yidden didn’t think these actions were so wonderful, and one among them  – Pinchas ben Elazar ben Aharon HaKohen – got up to do something about it. As prescribed by Halacha, he grabbed a spear, talked his way past the bodyguards, and used the spear to kill Zimri and Kozbi.

In the newspaper and in sophisticated social circles, he was castigated as a cruel person who had acted brutally and sadistically. In the real world, people stopped dying. With his bloody act, Pinchas brought peace and life to his people.

If a person is cut, he can’t reason with the wound. Regardless of how he feels about it, the blood loss will lead to unconsciousness or death, unless he takes action to close the wound. Even if someone can make a clever, persuasive case in defense of their actions, making the wrong choice has consequences. Separating himself from Hashem, chas v’shalom, has terrible consequences.

It’s a cruelty – not a kindness – to act like Zimri. To be soft, “kind,” and gentle, accepting and validating destructive or fatal behavior is not kindness, it’s cruel. It’s the height of kindness to overcome our nature and preference to be soft, kind, and gentle and to take the side of truth and life even when it is unpleasant. 

The neshama of a Yid must be connected to Hashem at all times. It’s nice to be nice, but validating, justifying, or defending a Yid in an action that cuts him off from his source of life is not nice. That was the mistake of Zimri.

Pinchas did it right. He knew that Torah called for a spear in that case, and because he was a descendant of Aharon – the epitome of kindness – he overcame his gentle nature to do the difficult, kind thing – keeping Yidden connected with Hashem, even though it called for drastic measures.

The Rebbe always reiterates that the “Torah’s ways are ways of pleasantness and all its paths are peace.” The point is certainly not to reach for a spear in every situation where you see something that needs correcting. We want to be effective and persuasive, and “the words of the wise are heeded when they’re expressed gently” – but that’s a matter of method.

When it comes to our position and our aim, we need to be Pinchas, not Zimri. We need to focus on what is good and right, not on what looks or sounds good and right. True kindness demands that we hold on to truth as we seek to do kindness.

Today, the necessity of working to bring Yidden closer to Hashem is widely accepted, and the methods and approaches of the Rebbe are widely understood and embraced. In the early days, when the Rebbe was laying it out, he frequently quoted the Mishnah describing Aharon as one who “loved the creations and brought them close to Torah.” 

This, the Rebbe declared, is the only acceptable way – we lift the Yidden up and bring them closer to Torah – not, chas v’shalom, lowering the Torah down to make it more palatable to the Yidden.

There are those who argue that our approach to the younger generation must be guided by the “realities” of yeridas hadoros. We need to accept them as they are and find ways to adapt and reframe yiddishkeit to spark their interest. We need to alleviate the burdens with heterim and infuse our vocabulary and our conceptual framework with terms and ideas from modern, foreign, popular sources.

This is not a new idea. The Rebbe rejected it when he first articulated how to spark a Yid’s neshama, and in the contrast of Zimri and Pinchas we get the earliest demonstration of its folly. As we guide our children and our students, we frequently face this decision. Will I tell them what they want to hear, twisting the truth and the very concept of kindness to validate and support something which is wrong? Or will I find the strength and firmness to display true kindness and find the way to tell them the truth they need to hear, the truth that will connect them with Hashem? Will I be Zimri or Pinchas?

Don’t believe the ones who tell you it won’t work, that today’s youth can’t hear or won’t listen. I can tell you from experience that it’s simply not true.

L’ilui nishmas my zeide ר’ שניאור זלמן יששכר געציל הלוי בן ר’ שלום ע”ה who lived his life like Pinchas, in honor of his yahrtzeit, 24 Tammuz.