By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
EL CAJON, California — This week’s parsha, Pinchas, is filled with emotional, theological, and psychological depth. It introduces us to moments of intense zeal, deep mourning, hopeful transition, and ultimately, a path toward healing. It challenges us to consider, what does it mean to act with passion? What does greatness look like? And how can we live with strength and inner peace even during times of national and personal adversity?
At the center of our parsha is Pinchas, a figure of obvious fierce conviction. His dramatic act, killing Zimri and the Midianite princess in a moment of crisis, shocks us. Yet Hashem’s response is even more surprising: He grants Pinchas a brit shalom, a covenant of peace. Why peace? Why not strength or reward?
Because zeal, even when righteous, is best when it is refined. Because unchecked passion, even for truth, can destabilize us emotionally and spiritually. Hashem honors Pinchas, yet tempers him. He sanctifies Pinchas’s passion by anchoring it in shalom, teaching that true greatness is not just in decisive action, but in sustained inner peace.
I’m struck by how this Torah reading aligns with what we see in contemporary mental health, particularly through the lens of Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy (REBT). REBT teaches that our suffering often stems not from external events, but from our irrational beliefs about those events. We are not passive victims of our emotions, our thoughts are the creator of our emotions. With work, with mindfulness, and with faith, we can respond to pain, loss, and failure with resilience.
Maimonides said it long before contemporary psychologists and psychiatrists such as Albert Ellis, Ph.D. and Aaron Beck, MD, the more mentally trained we are, the less shaken we will be by fortune or failure. That’s Torah, and it’s therapy.
We read in Psalms, “Light is sown for the righteous, and for the straight of heart—simcha.” Even Moshe who faced staggering disappointment, denied entry into the Land, responds not with bitterness, but with faith. He does not ask for glory or sympathy, but for continuity. “Let the people not be like sheep without a shepherd,” he says. And then he places his hands on Joshua.
Hashem describes Joshua as “a man in whom there is spirit.” What is this “spirit”? The Sforno says it’s the openness to receive the Divine Light. It is the mark of a seeker, someone constantly tracking truth, never stagnant, always yearning.
A story told in Sichot Mussar illustrates this beautifully. Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz once asked the Rosh Yeshiva of Nevardok who his top students were. One was the sharpest, another the most diligent, a third the broadest in knowledge. But who was the greatest? “That one,” the Rosh Yeshiva said, pointing to a different student. “Because he is a seeker.” That student was none other than the Steipler Gaon. Greatness, then, is not just talent. It’s a seeker’s mindset.
In today’s world marked by confusion, fragmentation, and rising despair, this idea feels urgent. During these coming Three Weeks, we mourn not only historical destruction, but our present spiritual disconnection. But parsha Pinchas interrupts the sadness with reminders of Pesach, Shavuot, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot—festivals of joy, connection, and hope.
That is emotional resilience. That is spiritual vision. That is shalom—not passivity, but deep internal strength.
Science confirms this ancient truth. Chronic stress erodes our bodies, weakens our immune systems, and shortens our lives. The Sforno’s interpretation of Pinchas is striking: his long life wasn’t supernatural—it was the result of lo nizdaze’a, being undisturbed internally. Pinchas had emotional alignment. He didn’t live in reaction. He lived with clarity. And so can we.
When we pray, when we practice emunah, when we engage in mitzvot—not only do we strengthen our spiritual selves, but we protect our minds and bodies. Modern psychology affirms what Chazal have taught for centuries: faith and ritual are tools of psychological resilience. They offer grounding, coherence, purpose, and calm.
But this parsha isn’t just about inner life, it’s about leadership. Moshe’s succession plan in just eight verses shows us the essence of true leadership. Not charisma or dominance, but spirit, the quiet strength to guide people according to their uniqueness. Hashem doesn’t ask for a prophet or warrior. He asks for someone who will “go out before them and come in before them.” A leader who walks with the people, not ahead of them.
In that sense, Pinchas’s story becomes a warning: zeal must evolve. Even the Talmud notes that if a zealot comes asking whether to act, we do not tell him to do so. And yet, because Pinchas acted with lishmah, pure intent, he is transformed, not punished. Hashem gives him peace so that the emotional toll of his action does not leave him broken. Violence, even when justified, leaves marks. Peace is the antidote.
The Netziv writes that Pinchas needed this blessing so he wouldn’t become rigid, so the passion of that one act wouldn’t calcify into a harsh personality. We are reminded that strong action is best when it is balanced with compassion, gentleness, and ongoing self-refinement.
We live in a time that demands strength. Antisemitism is explosively rising. Moral confusion is rampant. There are forces, internal and external, threatening our unity and values. But the Torah doesn’t call us to respond with rage. It calls us to act, yes, but with a flow of love, not a flood of hate.
Pinchas, the Daughters of Zelophehad, Joshua, Moshe, all stepped forward. Each in their way demonstrated courage. But what made them great was not their loudness. It was their clarity. Their humility. Their seeking.
And so, as we approach Tisha B’Av, let’s remember that while mourning and grieving may be necessary, so is hope. While sadness is honest, so is laughter, as Rabbi Akiva taught. And laughter, science tells us, boosts immunity, reduces stress, and clears the mind. “Light is sown for the righteous…” Perhaps that lightness is what Moshe felt, even facing his end. The lightness of clarity. The simcha that comes from knowing he gave everything and prepared the way for others.
Let’s leave this parsha not only with reflection, but with resolve. To become seekers. To develop spiritual and emotional strength. To guide our families and communities with empathy and wisdom. To stand up for our people, not with rage, but with courage. Not with hatred, but with holiness. And may we, like Pinchas, be blessed with a brit shalom, a covenant of peace that comes not from avoiding struggle, but from rising above it with flexible, rational integrity and faith.
May we find the strength to transform our mourning into dancing, our sorrow into joy, and our challenges into opportunities for growth and closeness to Hashem. As we journey through the Three Weeks, let us carry the light of hope in our hearts, knowing that our efforts to bring more love, unity, and holiness into the world are hastening the day when our joy will be complete with the coming of Moshiach and the rebuilding of the Bais Hamikdosh, speedily in our days.
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun.