Pinchas and the Seventeenth of Tammuz
When the Walls Come Tumbling Down
Today is the fast of the 17th of Tammuz, a solemn day that marks the breaching of the walls of Jerusalem before the destruction of the Second Temple. It is the beginning of the Three Weeks, a time of mourning and introspection, of recognizing how things fall apart when boundaries are no longer sacred.
It is no irony that this fast falls out in proximity to Parshas Pinchas. In the Torah reading, we witness another kind of breach—not of walls, but of identity, of spiritual and moral integrity. The people have fallen prey to the seductive service of Baal Peor, a form of idolatry that dissolves boundaries between the sacred and the profane. It is a breakdown not just of behaviour but of being.
In the midst of this collapse, Pinchas arises. His act is swift, severe, and shocking. He slays Zimri, a prince of the tribe of Shimon, and the Midianite princess Cozbi in the act of their public desecration.
It is an act that disturbs us deeply—how could it be justified? How does such zealotry result in a reward of peace, as God declares: "Behold, I give him My covenant of peace (bris shalom)" (Bamidbar 25:12)?
How Did Pinchas Do This?
What Kind of Peace Is This?
Rashi, quoting the Talmud, teaches us that what Pinchas did falls under the law of *kanaim pogim bo* – zealots may strike. But this law is deeply ambiguous. There is no formal punishment meted out in a court. There are no witnesses, no warnings, no trial. Moshe himself forgets the law, and Pinchas reminds him. But how can a religion of law leave room for such an act?
The answer lies in the category of *Chilul Hashem* – desecration of God's name.
When the presence of God is being openly defiled, there is sometimes no time for due process.
And yet, this is a razor's edge.
If a person acts from ego, from anger, from self-righteousness rather than from pure love of God, they are nothing but a murderer.
And so God affirms that Pinchas' motives were pure. He gives him the covenant of peace *after* the act, not before. Because peace must be the fruit of truth, not its casualty.
Why a Covenant of Peace?
"Brisi Shalom" seems paradoxical after an act of violence.
But Rabbeinu Bachya explains that true peace is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of integrity.
Peace, in Hebrew, is *shalom*, from *shalem* – wholeness.
Zimri's act was a tearing apart of the Jewish identity.
Pinchas, with his romach (spear), restored the form. The Zohar notes the gematria of *romach* is 248 – the number of positive mitzvot, the limbs of the body. Zimri wasn't merely violating a negative command; he was undermining the entire positive form of Jewish life.
Pinchas reasserts the form. The spear becomes not an instrument of death, but of reintegration. It reestablishes the line between holiness and chaos.
Sex and Idolatry: The Deep Link
What was Baal Peor? The Talmud teaches that its service involved defecating in front of the idol.
It was meant to mock structure, to celebrate base instinct, to erase the very idea of sanctity. And it used sexuality as its vehicle.
Not because sex is evil, but because it is powerful.
In Judaism, sexuality is holy when it reflects *ahavah* (love) and *achdut* (unity). But when it is divorced from commitment, when it becomes a tool of ego or manipulation, it degrades both parties.
This is why intermarriage is not a casual issue.
It is not that non-Jews are evil. It is that to marry outside the covenant is to blur the very line that gives Jewish identity its sacred shape.
Children pick up on that.
As studies show (see Michigan State longitudinal research), those who grow up in interfaith homes often receive a message that Jewish identity is optional. But identity is not optional. Either it is essential, or it is nothing. And the deepest part of us knows that.
Jealousy: Bad or Good?
We often see jealousy as negative. But the Torah calls God "a jealous God" (*El kana*). Rabbeinu Bachya explains that jealousy, when rooted in truth, is a sign of integrity. It means we care. When a person does not react to betrayal or erosion of sacred values, they are deadened.
There is holy jealousy. There is a moment when a person must stand up and say: This cannot be. This is not who we are. Pinchas was such a person. And for that, he is rewarded with eternal life. Rabbeinu Bachya and the Midrash identify Pinchas with Eliyahu, the prophet who never died. One who preserves identity, who restores the covenant, becomes part of that eternal covenant.
The Broken Walls of Jerusalem
And now we return to Jerusalem. Why do we mourn its breach? Because when Jerusalem falls, everything is vulnerable. Jerusalem stands for holiness, for structure, for the presence of God in the world. Its walls are not just stones. They are boundaries between good and evil, sacred and profane, selfhood and chaos.
The Talmud says the Temple was destroyed because they did not say *birkat haTorah* – not that they didn't study, but that they didn't appreciate it. The Maharal says they did not bless it with *simchah*, with joy. And that means: they didn’t want the burden of being chosen. They studied Torah as a cultural activity, not a covenant. That is a breach far deeper than stone.
So What Now?
The purpose of this fast is to wake us up. To ask: Do you still care enough to rebuild? Would you die for it? Then live for it. Learn. Do. Teach. Fulfill. Pinchas was willing to risk everything to protect the Jewish people. Are we willing to give even a little to preserve who we are?
Every day, we face choices. Coke or Pepsi? Democrat or Republican? But real freedom, says the Torah, is choosing who you become. Choosing to align yourself with truth. With holiness. With the covenant. That is freedom. That is Jerusalem. That is what we fight for.
Let us make sure we are not among those who sit silently while the walls fall. Let us be among those who build.
It is no irony that this fast falls out in proximity to Parshas Pinchas. In the Torah reading, we witness another kind of breach—not of walls, but of identity, of spiritual and moral integrity. The people have fallen prey to the seductive service of Baal Peor, a form of idolatry that dissolves boundaries between the sacred and the profane. It is a breakdown not just of behaviour but of being.
In the midst of this collapse, Pinchas arises. His act is swift, severe, and shocking. He slays Zimri, a prince of the tribe of Shimon, and the Midianite princess Cozbi in the act of their public desecration.
It is an act that disturbs us deeply—how could it be justified? How does such zealotry result in a reward of peace, as God declares: "Behold, I give him My covenant of peace (bris shalom)" (Bamidbar 25:12)?
How Did Pinchas Do This?
What Kind of Peace Is This?
Rashi, quoting the Talmud, teaches us that what Pinchas did falls under the law of *kanaim pogim bo* – zealots may strike. But this law is deeply ambiguous. There is no formal punishment meted out in a court. There are no witnesses, no warnings, no trial. Moshe himself forgets the law, and Pinchas reminds him. But how can a religion of law leave room for such an act?
The answer lies in the category of *Chilul Hashem* – desecration of God's name.
When the presence of God is being openly defiled, there is sometimes no time for due process.
And yet, this is a razor's edge.
If a person acts from ego, from anger, from self-righteousness rather than from pure love of God, they are nothing but a murderer.
And so God affirms that Pinchas' motives were pure. He gives him the covenant of peace *after* the act, not before. Because peace must be the fruit of truth, not its casualty.
Why a Covenant of Peace?
"Brisi Shalom" seems paradoxical after an act of violence.
But Rabbeinu Bachya explains that true peace is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of integrity.
Peace, in Hebrew, is *shalom*, from *shalem* – wholeness.
Zimri's act was a tearing apart of the Jewish identity.
Pinchas, with his romach (spear), restored the form. The Zohar notes the gematria of *romach* is 248 – the number of positive mitzvot, the limbs of the body. Zimri wasn't merely violating a negative command; he was undermining the entire positive form of Jewish life.
Pinchas reasserts the form. The spear becomes not an instrument of death, but of reintegration. It reestablishes the line between holiness and chaos.
Sex and Idolatry: The Deep Link
What was Baal Peor? The Talmud teaches that its service involved defecating in front of the idol.
It was meant to mock structure, to celebrate base instinct, to erase the very idea of sanctity. And it used sexuality as its vehicle.
Not because sex is evil, but because it is powerful.
In Judaism, sexuality is holy when it reflects *ahavah* (love) and *achdut* (unity). But when it is divorced from commitment, when it becomes a tool of ego or manipulation, it degrades both parties.
This is why intermarriage is not a casual issue.
It is not that non-Jews are evil. It is that to marry outside the covenant is to blur the very line that gives Jewish identity its sacred shape.
Children pick up on that.
As studies show (see Michigan State longitudinal research), those who grow up in interfaith homes often receive a message that Jewish identity is optional. But identity is not optional. Either it is essential, or it is nothing. And the deepest part of us knows that.
Jealousy: Bad or Good?
We often see jealousy as negative. But the Torah calls God "a jealous God" (*El kana*). Rabbeinu Bachya explains that jealousy, when rooted in truth, is a sign of integrity. It means we care. When a person does not react to betrayal or erosion of sacred values, they are deadened.
There is holy jealousy. There is a moment when a person must stand up and say: This cannot be. This is not who we are. Pinchas was such a person. And for that, he is rewarded with eternal life. Rabbeinu Bachya and the Midrash identify Pinchas with Eliyahu, the prophet who never died. One who preserves identity, who restores the covenant, becomes part of that eternal covenant.
The Broken Walls of Jerusalem
And now we return to Jerusalem. Why do we mourn its breach? Because when Jerusalem falls, everything is vulnerable. Jerusalem stands for holiness, for structure, for the presence of God in the world. Its walls are not just stones. They are boundaries between good and evil, sacred and profane, selfhood and chaos.
The Talmud says the Temple was destroyed because they did not say *birkat haTorah* – not that they didn't study, but that they didn't appreciate it. The Maharal says they did not bless it with *simchah*, with joy. And that means: they didn’t want the burden of being chosen. They studied Torah as a cultural activity, not a covenant. That is a breach far deeper than stone.
So What Now?
The purpose of this fast is to wake us up. To ask: Do you still care enough to rebuild? Would you die for it? Then live for it. Learn. Do. Teach. Fulfill. Pinchas was willing to risk everything to protect the Jewish people. Are we willing to give even a little to preserve who we are?
Every day, we face choices. Coke or Pepsi? Democrat or Republican? But real freedom, says the Torah, is choosing who you become. Choosing to align yourself with truth. With holiness. With the covenant. That is freedom. That is Jerusalem. That is what we fight for.
Let us make sure we are not among those who sit silently while the walls fall. Let us be among those who build.