בס”ד
This blog post is a summary of a powerful lesson on the significance of words, as explored in the parsha Pinchas. It’s definitely worth watching the full lesson on YouTube for a deeper insight. Here, we share some key ideas and practical lessons on how we can use our speech in daily life to build rather than break.
Civilizations don’t collapse overnight.
They collapse slowly, then suddenly. One moment, people are prospering — building, creating, thriving — and the next, they’re looking around in shock, wondering how it all fell apart.
So, the real question is not why cultures collapse.
The real question is: What should individuals do when collapse is starting, and they still have a chance to stop it?
Today, I want to explore that question through two timeless sources:
- The Torah portion of Pinchas,
- And the liturgy of the 17th of Tamuz — a fast day that marks profound moral and cultural failures in Jewish history.
Both texts contain universal lessons for anyone who wishes to face cultural chaos not as a victim, but as a moral actor.
The Collapse at Ba’al Peor
At the end of the Torah portion Balak, Israel suffers a moral collapse.
The people are seduced by Moabite women and drawn into the worship of Ba’al Peor — a religion that mixes idolatry with public degradation.
“And Israel joined itself to Baal Peor, and the anger of the Lord was kindled…” (Numbers 25:3)
A leader of the tribe of Shimon — Zimri — publicly flaunts this new norm. He brings a Midianite woman, Cozbi, into the camp in full view of Moses and the entire assembly.
No one knows what to do. Outrage is met with paralysis. A deadly plague breaks out. Twenty-four thousand people die.
Then — one man steps forward.
His name is Pinchas.
He takes a spear and drives it through Zimri and Cozbi — a decisive, even shocking act. And the plague stops. God then says:
“Behold, I give him My covenant of peace.” (Numbers 25:12)
“It shall be for him and his descendants a covenant of eternal priesthood.” (25:13)
Why does such violent action result in a covenant of peace?
Because this was not about vengeance.
It was about intervening at the brink of collapse — acting when everyone else was silent. It was an act of moral clarity in a moment of cultural disintegration.
The Shattering of the Tablets
This wasn’t the first time a leader had to make a painful choice.
On the 17th of Tamuz, Moses descended Mount Sinai with the tablets — the Luchot — carved and inscribed by God Himself.
And he saw the Golden Calf.
He saw the debauchery, the betrayal of sacred order. And what did he do?
“And he threw the tablets from his hands, and broke them at the foot of the mountain.” (Exodus 32:19)
Would you have shattered those divine tablets?
Yet the final verse of the entire Torah praises this act:
“…for all the mighty hand, and for all the great terror that Moses performed in the eyes of all Israel.” (Deuteronomy 34:12)
And the sages say: That verse refers to the breaking of the tablets.
Because sometimes, breaking something precious is what preserves what’s even more sacred.
If Moses had handed those holy tablets to a people immersed in idolatry, the covenant would have been spiritually destroyed — not just symbolically, but in essence.
Moral Collapse: Then and Now
Why do civilizations fall?
Because immorality becomes normal.
When public sin becomes public policy, when sacred boundaries are erased, when truth becomes negotiable — collapse begins.
This isn’t ancient history.
It happens in every generation.
And in every generation, the question is the same:
Will anyone act?
Moses and Pinchas didn’t act out of rage or ego. They weren’t chasing power.
They acted because the spiritual structure of their world was cracking — and no one else was stepping up.
What they did is what philosopher Philip Rieff calls “defense of sacred order.”
What Stephen Hicks calls “moral clarity over cynicism.”
And yes — you should look those names up. It’s good for your mind and your moral imagination.
But What About Us?
You might ask: “I’m not part of Israel’s priesthood. What does this have to do with me?”
The answer: Everything.
The Seven Laws of Noah are not tribal. They are universal ethics — the moral infrastructure of civilization itself:
- No murder
- No theft
- No idolatry
- No blasphemy
- No cruelty to animals
- No adultery
- Justice through courts
When these break down, society cannot stand.
The 17th of Tamuz marks the breaching of Jerusalem’s walls — a violation of justice and borders.
And here’s a key insight from the Talmud (Sanhedrin 59a):
Nations are not meant to conquer. They’re meant to build, to steward, to lead — but not to dominate.
Only Israel had a divine mandate to conquer specific land — the Land of Israel.
Other nations are bound to justice within their borders, not conquest beyond them.
This is a quiet rebuke to empires — Babylon, Rome, even modern colonial powers — that claimed moral legitimacy for expansion.
True leadership is rooted in moral responsibility, not domination.
A Universal Temple
So why did Pinchas receive the covenant of eternal priesthood?
Because his act preserved the spiritual integrity of a future that centered around the Temple in Jerusalem.
And that Temple was never meant to be only for Israel.
“My house shall be a house of prayer for all nations.” (Isaiah 56:7)
“All nations will ascend to Jerusalem to serve Hashem…” (Zechariah 14:16)
This isn’t fantasy.
It’s a universal vision of moral unity through sacred order.
During this three-week period between the 17th of Tamuz and Tisha B’Av, we reflect on the loss of that Temple — and what it symbolizes.
Even today, synagogues serve as mikdash me’at — miniature sanctuaries.
Not replacements, but reminders of what must one day return.
If you’re a Noahide, or someone seeking spiritual depth, visit a synagogue if you can.
Not just to witness tradition, but to anchor yourself in a space dedicated to prayer, learning, and moral refinement.
When Collapse Starts — Act
When cultures collapse, we all have two options:
- Watch and mourn.
- Or act and repair.
Pinchas acted.
Moses acted.
Will we?
Let me leave you with this:
When sacred order is breaking, doing nothing is also a choice.
Standing for truth will cost you something.
But not standing for truth will cost you everything.
This isn’t fanaticism.
This is moral responsibility.
When your Pinchas moment comes — when you see the world unraveling before your eyes — don’t hesitate.
Act.
And may we all be blessed with the clarity and courage to know what to do — and when.
By Rabbi Tani Burton
More shiurim of Rabbi Tani Burton
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