SALT 2015 - Parashat Balak

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Motzaei Shabbat

            We read in Parashat Balak of the unusual incident where Bilam’s donkey speaks to him to protest the harsh treatment which it had suffered at Bilam’s hands.  Seforno, commenting on the words, “The Lord opened the donkey’s mouth” (22:28), writes, “He gave it the power of speech, like ‘Lord, open my lips’ (Tehillim 51:17).”  Intriguingly, Seforno draws a comparison between the power of speech given to Bilam’s donkey and King David’s request that God enable him to speak His praises.  Just as God gave the donkey the capacity to talk, King David prayed that he be given the ability to speak God’s praises.

            Seemingly, Seforno’s intent is to explain that God can enable a donkey speak just as He enables humans to speak.  In this verse in Tehillim, King David acknowledged that he cannot even open his mouth to speak without God allowing him to do so.  Seforno cites this verse to note that once we recognize that the human capacity for speech did not happen by itself, but is rather facilitated by God, it should not surprise us that God could allow a donkey to speak, as well.

            Rav Yerucham Levovitz (as cited by Rav David Zeritzky in Torat Ha-mussar, p. 121) added further insight into Seforno’s remark.  How, he asked, could Seforno possibly compare King David’s speaking praises to the Almighty – praises which are so precious and valuable that they are regularly studied and recited as prayer even today – with the speech of Bilam’s donkey?  Are these two acts of speech comparable in any way?  Evidently, Rav Yerucham explained, every bit of spiritual advancement is regarded as a fundamental transformation.  From Seforno’s perspective, King David’s singing another song of praise, his gaining a bit more appreciation for the Almighty’s greatness, meant no less than a donkey being given the intelligence to engage in verbal communication.  When it comes to spirituality, each step forward is transformative.  If we improve, even to a slight extent, we become fundamentally different beings.  And thus, indeed, God’s enabling us to sing another song of praise, to take a small step forward in our avodat Hashem, is tantamount to His opening the mouth of Bilam’s donkey.

Sunday

            We read in Parashat Balak of Bilam’s journey to Moav where he was to place a curse upon Benei Yisrael.  Along the way, an angel appeared to Bilam’s donkey on three occasions, blocking the road.  The donkey responded the first time by veering off the path, the second time by veering to the side and crushing Bilam’s leg against a wall, and the third time by crouching in place.  On all three occasions, Bilam responded by beating his animal.  Finally, God enabled the donkey to speak, and the donkey asked Bilam why he was beating it.  Bilam explained that he acted as he did because the donkey betrayed him, to which the donkey responded, “Aren’t I your donkey which you have been riding all throughout, until this day?  Have I ever been accustomed to doing this to you?” (22:30).  Bilam conceded that the donkey had never done anything like this before, essentially confessing that he had acted wrongly by beating it.

            The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 93:10) views this exchange between Bilam and his donkey as a frightening warning of the trial we will all face once we move onto the next world: “Woe unto us on the day of judgment., woe unto us on the day of reproof!  For Bilam, the wisest of all gentiles, could not withstand his donkey’s reproof, as it says, ‘Have I ever been accustomed to doing this to you? – And he said, ‘No.’” If Bilam could not defend himself against the accusations of his donkey, the Midrash comments, then certainly we will be unable to defend ourselves when a reckoning is made on our day of judgment.

            Bilam initially excused his violent behavior by noting that it was the donkey’s fault for failing to travel along the road, but the donkey then showed how this excuse was hollow.  It had never done anything like this in the past, and thus Bilam should have realized that there was a good reason why it suddenly stopped walking in the proper direction.  Superficially, Bilam’s justification for his response was correct – he beat the animal because it “betrayed” him – but when he analyzed the incident from a broader context, the excuse was clearly baseless.

            It is perhaps this kind of superficiality against which the Midrash seeks to warn us.  We give all kinds of shallow excuses to justify our mistakes and deficiencies – “It’s too hard,” “I’m too busy,” “I’ve had a bad day,” “I was really upset at the time.”  On the surface, these appear as legitimate and valid reasons for failing to do what we should and doing what we shouldn’t.  There is no denying that meeting the Torah’s requirements on an ongoing basis is very difficult, we are under pressuring time constraints, and our emotional fragility can lower our level of control over our thoughts, words and actions.  Superficially, these excuses are reasonable.  But deep down, we – like Bilam – must confess that they are hollow.  We know full well that we could do better, that if we took our obligations to God and to other people more seriously, we would achieve so much more and avoid much of the wrongdoing that we are guilty of.

            In this sense, we might perhaps view Bilam’s donkey as a symbol of human conscience – the inner voice which we often prefer to silence or ignore, but which, every so often, has its “mouth” opened by God and speaks to us openly and explicitly.  It reminds us of what we already know – that ultimately, we have no excuse for our failings, that we have done and continue to do things that are wrong, and that we need to grow and improve and stop blaming other people or circumstances for our shortcomings.

Monday

            Yesterday, we noted the intriguing comment of the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 93:10) noting how the exchange between Bilam and his donkey serves as a frightening warning about the day of judgment: “Woe unto us on the day of judgment, woe unto us on the day of reproof!  For Bilam, the wisest of all gentiles, could not withstand his donkey’s reproof, as it says, ‘Have I ever been accustomed to doing this to you? – And he said, ‘No.’” 

            Like Bilam, we often become agitated, angry and bitter when our “donkey” – our life’s circumstances – lead us away from the path we want our lives to follow.  We direct our anger towards the people who cause this derailment, and at times at God, who, we firmly believe, has ultimate control over the course of our lives.  And as in the case of Bilam, our anger is misplaced, because there are realities which we cannot see that necessitated our veering off course.  Just as Bilam did not realize that there was a good reason his donkey steered off the road – an angel blocked the path – similarly, our vision is limited and does not always allow us to see the future consequences of what we assume to be our desired path.  God has His reasons for sending us off course, even though we often cannot understand them.  Bilam was eventually shown the reason why he was led off the road, but we, in this world, rarely see the reasons why life steers us away from the path we wanted to follow.

            “Woe unto us on the day of judgment, woe unto us on the day of reproof.”  On the day of judgment, we will find ourselves shamed and humiliated over all those times we complained, protested, whined, and struck our “donkey” – the people and situations who led us off our chosen course.  Then we will be shown – as Bilam was – that there was a perfectly valid reason for why this happened. 

            The message of the Midrash, then, is to avoid the frustration and anger that we often experience when we encounter the frequent bumps along the road of life.  If our “donkey” leads us where we did not intend to go, we must trust that there is an “angel of God” obstructing the path we had chosen, there is a very good and important reason why we were not permitted there.  This simple faith will help us remain calm and serene during life’s challenging moments, and ensure that – unlike Bilam – we respond with humble acceptance, rather than pointlessly and angrily fighting our circumstances.

Tuesday

            A famous Mishna in Pirkei Avot (5:19) contrasts Bilam with Avraham Avinu.  Among the characteristics noted by the Mishna are “ayin tova” and “ayin ra’a.”  Bilam had an “evil eye” in the sense that he looked upon things negatively.  Elsewhere, Chazal comment that Bilam’s strategy was to identify the moment when God would be angry at Benei Yisrael, and immediately then place his curse on them.  Bilam’s “expertise” was identifying people’s negative characteristics and bringing them into focus.  Avraham, meanwhile, possessed an “ayin tova,” as he looked favorably and positively upon people.  When God informed Avraham of His decision to annihilate the sinful city of Sedom, Avraham pleaded that the city be spared in the merit of the small group of noble residents.  Even when it came to a corrupt, depraved society such as Sedom, Avraham searched to find the positive aspect, the small pocket of goodness which, in his mind, rendered the entire city worthy of survival. 

            Not coincidentally, Chazal also tell us that Bilam and Avraham had opposite effects on people.  Bilam, we are told, masterminded the scheme of which we read at the end of Parashat Balak, where the Moavite women lured the men of Benei Yisrael to illicit relationships and idol worship.  Realizing that he could not place a curse upon Benei Yisrael, Bilam altered his strategy, advising Balak to instead seduce them to sin.  With his “ayin ra’a,” Bilam was able to identify Benei Yisrael’s “Achilles’ heel,” their point of weakness which could be exploited to bring about their downfall.  His plan nearly worked, as God Himself later attests that He was prepared to annihilate Benei Yisrael, and desisted only because of Pinchas’ act of zealotry (“ve-lo khiliti et Benei Yisrael” – 25:11).  Bilam’s “skill” of identifying people’s weakness and negative traits enabled him to cause them to fall.  Avraham, by contrast, is described by Chazal as leading untold numbers of people away from idolatry and to a life of monotheistic faith and morality.  A person who looks upon others with an “ayin tova,” and sees the inner goodness within all people, is able to bring that point of goodness to the surface and allow it to shine.  Somebody who identifies the divine spark of holiness within others is able to ignite it and inspire them to grow.

            Our ability to influence the people around us, and to lead our children along the path of nobility and Godliness which we want them to follow, hinges on our “ayin tova,” on our ability to see and focus our attention on their innate noble character, on the spark of greatness within their souls which is waiting to be kindled.

Wednesday

            The Torah in Parashat Balak tells of how an angel blocked Bilam’s path as he rode his donkey to Moav for the purpose of placing a curse on Benei Yisrael.  At one point, the angel appeared to the donkey as it rode along a path surrounded on either side by a fence: “gadeir mi-zeh ve-gadeir mi-zeh” (22:24).  The donkey had no choice but to veer to the side, crushing Bilam’s leg against the fence.

            The Midrash (Bamidbar Rabba) notes the resemblance between the Torah’s description of the fence, and its description in Sefer Shemot (32:15) of the stone tablets bearing the inscription of the Ten Commandments on either side – “mi-zeh u-mi’zeh heim ketuvim.”  In light of this parallel, the Midrash comments that this situation was intended to subtly convey to Bilam the message that he is unable to defeat Am Yisrael, a nation which received tablets bearing God’s commands on either side.

            The obvious question arises, what connection did Chazal see between Bilam’s attempt to curse Benei Yisrael, and this particular quality of the luchot (tablets) – that the text was engraved on both sides?

            Rav Mordechai Rogov, in his Ateret Mordekhai, explains that Chazal here view the image of a fenced enclosure as symbolic of two opposite kinds of limits that ought to characterize religious life.  Just as we must avoid veering beyond the boundary of moral conduct into the realm of evil, likewise, we must avoid the opposite extreme –unrestrained zealotry for the sake of God.  We are to conduct ourselves in a balanced, sensible manner, avoiding forbidden behavior without resorting to extreme measures to oppose it.  And thus God’s commandments were engraved on both sides of the tablets, symbolizing the fact that these commands set limits at both ends of the spectrum.  We are, obviously, to avoid evil, but we are also enjoined to avoid extreme behavior in the opposite direction, out of religious zeal and fervor.  The Torah demands that we conduct our lives in between the two “fences” of sinfulness and zealotry, and we thereby earn God’s protection from the many “Bilams” who arise to cause us harm.

Thursday

            We read in Parashat Balak the fascinating account of Bilam’s conversation with his donkey, which was miraculously given the ability to speak and protested the violence it suffered at Bilam’s hands: “What have I done to you, that you have beaten me on three occasions?" (22:28).  The Midrash Tanchuma, cited by Rashi, famously notes the donkey’s use of the term “regalim” (“occasions”) in this verse, and claims that this is a veiled reference to the shalosh regalim – the three pilgrimage festivals (Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot).  According to the Tanchuma, the donkey was telling Bilam, “You are seeking to annihilate a nation that celebrates three regalim each year!” 

            The question arises, what point of connection did the Midrash see between Bilam’s attempt to curse Benei Yisrael and the shalosh regalim?  Why would the donkey mention this particular observance in this context?

            The answer, perhaps, relates to the complaint voiced by the donkey regarding Bilam’s violence.  Bilam three times struck the donkey for failing to follow the road to Moav, not realizing that an angel had blocked the donkey’s path.  The Midrash may be pointing here to the contrast between Bilam’s angry response to adversity and Benei Yisrael’s festive celebrations three times a year.  Our nation joyously observes every holiday regardless of the circumstances.  Whether it’s during a period of prosperity or shortage, of peace or wartime, of triumph or defeat, we assemble in the Beit Ha-mikdash to give praise to God and celebrate our eternal relationship with Him.  Whereas Bilam loses his temper at his animal when it leads him off his desired path, we joyfully serve our Creator even when His Providence leads us off our desired path. 

            If so, then the Midrash is conveying to us the vital and powerful message of how we ought to respond to adversity and hardship.  As in regard to many other things, Bilam here is portrayed as the model for us not to follow.  He sets an example of immediate anger and hostility when undesirable situations present themselves, of succumbing to our emotions in periods of stress and tension.  We are instructed to learn and apply the lesson of the shalosh regalim – the importance of being able to remain joyful over our relationship with God despite the adverse circumstances that we confront over the course of our lives, rather than react to hardship with resentment and bitterness.

Friday

            The final section of Parashat Balak tells of cheit Ba’al Pe’or – the incident where Benei Yisrael were lured to sin by the women of Moav, engaging in illicit relations and worshipping the idol Pe’or.  The Gemara (Sanhedrin 60b), as Rashi (25:3) cites, explains that the followers of Pe’or worshipped this deity by performing their bodily functions upon the statue.  The question naturally arises as to the underlying concept behind this peculiar form of idol-worship.  What rationale might there have been to this “ritual,” of relieving oneself in front of the idol?

            Rav Shlomo Zalman Ehrenreich, in his Even Shelomo (Parashat Vaetchanan), suggests that the idea behind the worship of Pe’or was precisely that ritual is unnecessary.  The followers of Pe’or believed that people do not need to do anything special or out of the ordinary to show devotion to God.  They can conduct themselves in an ordinary fashion, as they see fit, going about their routine affairs while harboring “spiritual” thoughts and feelings.  By relieving themselves on the idol, the adherents of Pe’or sought to demonstrate that all that religion requires is thoughts and feelings; no special actions are needed.  They could do whatever they wanted without having to adhere to any ritualistic system, as long as they had the right thoughts and emotions.

            This might perhaps explain why Benei Yisrael were so drawn to this ideology.  The Torah describes Benei Yisrael’s participation in Pe’or worship with the unusual term “va-yitzamed” – “attached” – suggesting that they were enamored by this religion.  Pe’or offered the opportunity to feel religiously fulfilled without bearing any obligations and without the need for self-discipline.  It thus had great appeal and attracted Benei Yisrael away from the demands and responsibilities of Torah life.

            If so, then the story of Pe’or warns against the lure of an easy, undemanding approach to religion, which speaks to our lazy instincts and natural desire for comfort and simplicity.  Our faith teaches us that we must muster energy and discipline in the devoted service of God, exerting effort and often struggling to fulfill His will.  Earlier in the parasha (23:24), we read of how Bilam compared Benei Yisrael to a pouncing lion, and Rashi explains this as a reference to the way they “are powerful as a cub and lion to grab the mitzvot – to wear tzitzit, to read Shema, and to lay tefillin.”  Our lifestyle is characterized by the energetic, determined pursuit of excellence by fulfilling mitzvot.  In direct contradistinction to Pe’or, which championed the value of following one’s natural instincts and drives without having to exert any particular effort for the sake of God, we are to “pounce” like lions, with passion, vigor and vitality, determined to “grab” as many mitzvot as we can and serve our Creator to the very best of our ability.