Balak

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Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov

How goodly are your tents O Jacob!

Hmmmmm—it’s the words of a goyishe prophet that came to be the words we utter every time we enter our synagogues.

According to Rashi, when the sorcerer Balaam looked out over the plains of Moab and saw the tents of the Israelites arranged by tribes, he saw that the entrances of their tents were not facing each other. He saw that their desire to protect their privacy and family modesty was so strong that they even concealed their tent entrances from one another. This is what caused Balaam to exclaim the oft recited words above.

The great Chasidic rebbe, Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman HaLevi Epstein, offers a deeper meaning to why the openings to their tents did not face one another. He explained that this shows that each of us must find our own way to a relationship with God; it’s of no use to watch your neighbor’s ways and mimic them. He said, “each (righteous individual) must grasp [and develop] their own manner and approach toward kedusha (holiness) and create their own unique opening [to the spiritual wellsprings of holiness] for (themself).”

two men, an Angel, and an Ass

This is one of the most colorful narratives in all of the Torah.

In this episode of our story, the Israelites are gaining street cred. Word has gotten around—a nation of slaves has escaped the yoke of Egypt and they’re running rampant through the region. Balak, king of Moab, has heard the tale. He’s also heard about how these Israelites have just made mincemeat out of King Sihon and the Amorites. These Israelites sound pretty scary.

Then, Balak looks out across the plains of Moab, and … there they are! Those infamous Israelites have set up camp right under his nose! Balak is beside himself. He’s having a conniption.

Now, if he’d taken the trouble to learn the truth of the whole story, he might not have been so freaked out. He would have known that it was Sihon who had waged war upon Israel—and not the other way around—and brought about his own destruction. As they had done with Edom, the Israelites requested of Sihon to pass through his lands, keeping to the main road, promising not to touch any of their stuff. Sihon’s response was to wage war, and he got his butt kicked. If Balak had stopped to gather facts and thought it through, instead of jumping to conclusions, he might have noticed that the people before him were going about their own business and not looking to engage with him at all.

His irrational fear leads him to summon the seer, Balaam. He believes that whoever Balaam curses will be cursed, and whoever Balaam blesses will be blessed. It’s Balaam who’s actually the more interesting character of the parasha. HaShem has gifted Balaam with the power of prophesy and the power to curse, and Balaam knows full well that his abilities are subject to the will of HaShem. He inquires of HaShem if he should answer Balak’s summons, and he is told, No.

Balak won’t take no for an answer. He’s relentless, sending dignitaries of higher and higher rank, with gifts of increasing value, to wear him down, but still, Balaam refuses to go against the will of HaShem, no matter what the prize. At last, HaShem tells him, “If you want to go, go—but only do what I tell you to do.”

And now the fun part: Balaam sets out with Balak’s men, riding upon his faithful old donkey. At first the trip is uneventful, but after some time the donkey stops and will not go on. The seer is unable to see why the donkey has stopped. He beats the poor animal until at last she opens her mouth and asks him what she’s done to deserve such behavior. Oddly enough, her speaking doesn’t faze him at all. He engages in conversation with her, frustration overtaking him so that he tells her that, if only he had a sword, he’d have killed her. The donkey responds with logic. She points out that she has never done anything like this before and has always done as he’s bidden her, so maybe he should look to see why she’s stopped. Finally, he stops talking to his ass and sees the angel, sword drawn, standing on the path before him.

The moral of the story is obvious—pay attention to what’s going on around you, think things through, and see the truth of what’s in front of you. Our baser nature wants to jump to conclusions in order to remain comfortable and unchallenged. It wants us to interpret things in such a way as to reinforce that which we think we know. Perhaps HaShem is playfully charging us to slow down—to quiet our egos and open our minds, to ask real questions and be receptive to truth, to always be readjusting our understanding according to new information, rather than bending that information to reaffirm our stagnant understanding.

On the matter of Zimri, Cozbi, and Phinehas

At the end of the parasha, I’m left asking, “how far is too far? How much is too much? Do we intermingle with our neighbors or do we isolate ourselves from the rest of the world?

I grew up in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, on a block where most of our neighbors were Roman Catholic Italian-Americans. Our neighbors were the best neighbors anyone could wish for. My parents became great friends with the other adults on the block, and on day one, my brother and I became fully accepted members of the band of kids. One Sunday morning, a friend invited me to go to mass with her. She wasn’t proselytizing; she was being forced to go by her parents, she didn’t want to go, and she thought it would make it fun if I came along. My parents allowed me to go. They thought it would be good for me to experience how others worshiped; if everyone did that, they said, there would be greater understanding and less hatred among different peoples. But I was admonished to be a spectator and nothing else. I was not to kneel or genuflect, or take communion or say the prayers. I did go. It was both interesting and more than a little uncomfortable, but it was educational.

My family was assimilated into the greater American culture, but yet strongly aware of, and proud of, our Judaism. We felt confident in stepping out of our door because we knew who we are.

While the Israelites were living in Shittim, there was some serious intermingling. Apparently, those Moabite women were pretty hot, because many of the men took up with them, and committed “harlotry” with them. The men were invited to dinner—probably wasn’t kosher—and to experience the Moabite way of worship. Those men did more than observe—they participated in the Moabite rites and became attached to their gods, forsaking the One God who took them out of Egypt.

It did not end well for them.

Moshe told the judges to kill all the men who’d become attached to baal peor, presumably to protect the nation from turning away from God en masse. And, if this wasn’t cleansing enough, along came a plague to punish them some more…just for good measure.

During this plague, a man brought a Midianite woman to the tent of meeting in full daylight. Was he crazy? Why would he do that, after having seen all these other guys hanged? His timing probably wasn’t the best, as the people were weeping over those who’d been lost, but I wonder, was this “harlotry?” Or, could this have been a man who’d fallen in love with a foreign woman and was serious about her? Why else would he bring her home to his brethren?

It’s not until the next parasha that we learn their names. They’re not two random people. The man is Zimri, the leader of his tribe. The woman is Cozbi, the daughter of a prince.

Rashi says that her identity testifies to the degree of the Midianite hatred of the Jews, for even a prince didn’t hesitate to abandon his daughter to harlotry in order to harm Israel. However, this is not indicated in the text and it makes no logical sense to me. Even if she had been sent by her father, I ask again why would Zimri brazenly bring her to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, to Moshe and the elders? Was he stupid? Was he so enraptured by the Midianite god that he felt a need to proclaim it in front of everyone, knowing full well what the result would be?

I admit to being a hopeless romantic, but I can’t help but wonder—is it possible that she went with Zimri of her own free will, rather than have been sent by her father? Could it be that she left her people to go with this Zimri dude with the intention of joining the Israelite people, the people of the man she loved? It’s exactly what the Midianite Ruth did so many years later, when, as a widow, she followed her mother-in-law Naomi and said, “Do not urge me to leave you, to turn back from following you. For where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people are my people, and your God my God; where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus may God do to me, and so may He do more, if anything but death separates me from you.

From the text, we can assume that no one asked questions. But, who knows? Maybe, just like
Ruth, that union would have resulted in the birth of a great leader.

We don’t get to find out. Along comes Phinehas, who drives a spear that goes through the man, and then right through the belly of the woman.

bbAnd HaShem is appeased. Miraculously, the plague ends then and there.

Is Phinehas really to be celebrated? History has shown us that someone who is so full of righteous indignation, so sure of what’s right and what’s wrong—who “knows” what God thinks and what God wants, is a very dangerous person.

God imbued us with free will so that God could have a real relationship of give and take with us, the only one of God’s creatures that has this ability. Perhaps this is a controversial thing to say, but consider that perhaps as we evolve, God evolves, too. It could be that when Naomi brought Ruth home with her, God remembered Phinehas and chose to take a different tack.

I was pondering this idea while driving, and it occurred to me—of course, this is pure conjecture—but just maybe, Ruth was the reincarnation of Cozbi, given the opportunity to play out the scene again, this time with a different outcome …

At the Passover Seder we say that Lavan appears in every generation, but we don’t hear much about Phinehas. Yet, Phinehas pops up all the time, and in way too many cultures. Over the centuries he’s waged “holy war” after holy war. How many people continue to die for the sake of “sanctifying God’s name” every day?

These days there’s a less passionate, less extreme reaction to the Jew who brings home a non-Jew to Mom and Dad—zealots don’t run them through with a spear—but in some orthodox communities, they will still banish those young lovers—their own children—from their society, from their family, and from their lives.

To get personal again … My son brought home a woman for us to meet, a woman about whom he said he was very serious. She was from a different culture and a foreign land. She didn’t look like us or sound like us, and she had a two-year-old child . I suppose I could have closed the door in their faces and told him to go find a “nice Jewish girl.”

If I’d done so, I would have lost my darling first-born son. But I also would have missed out on the most wonderful daughter-in-law that anyone could ever hope for. I mean, Ruth couldn’t hold a candle to our Jackie. And, I would have lost my precious grandchildren—have I told you about my grandchildren?

For the record, let me say that my love and esteem for my son’s wife, my second “daughter,” would not have been diminished one bit, even if I hadn’t had the joy of accompanying her to the mikveh, by her own choice, several years later.

The story of Cozbi and Zimri ties in perfectly with the story of Balak, Balaam, the donkey, and the angel.

Stop. Look. See. Listen. Hear. Think.

The best we can be, as humans, is to be human and to see the humanity in others. If we can’t do that, there’s no way we can step up to the next rung and be holy, no way we will be able to see the holiness in others.

So, what shall we eat?

Menu For Parasha Balak

Does one need to be nuts to talk to a donkey? Maybe, maybe not. I talk to my cats all the time. Sometimes I think the cats would be quicker to notice an angel in front of me than I’d be …

Either way, nuts are delicious and nutritious, and I say, the more the merrier! You can go with these crispy Chicken Cutlets, breaded with a crunchy crust of breadcrumbs, pecans, almonds, and hazelnuts.

Or, head to the vegetarian menu, which includes an amazing Creamy Hazelnut Soup and Chef Seth’s fabulous Lima Bean Hummus.

Both are served with Angel Hair Pasta with Burst Tomatoes, Lemon, Fresh Herbs, and Garlic Bread Crumbs.

A colorful salad of red and gold roasted beets, arranged over their greens, with diced apple and mandarin sections, then finished with an apple vinaigrette, rounds out both meals.

The vegetarian menu does not have to have a replacement for the chicken. I’ve included hearts of palm cutlets and, while they’re really good, they’re not necessary. Even without them, every food group is present—it’s already a complete meal in terms of nutrition. Just serve larger portions of the salad and the pasta than you would if you were serving them with the chicken. Your guests, and you, won’t miss a thing.

Peaches are in season and I just had to turn them into a topping for thick slices of this Angel Food Cake with a twist—it’s made with toasted sugar, cardamom, and vanilla bean paste for a more complex flavor than most cakes by the same name. Don’t worry about the booze and the amaretto in the peach sauce—the alcohol cooks out, so it’s absolutely fine to serve to the kids. And, because this dessert has no dairy, it’s a perfect accompaniment to both menus.

omnivore’s menu for

balak

challah and gefilte fish

cheater’s or from scratch

Roasted Rainbow beet salad

beet greens, mandarins, diced apple, spiced pecans

chicken and escarole soup

nutty chicken cutlets

We need to start from a place of love.

There’ll be plenty of time later for a harsher response, if we learn that one is warranted.

shabbat shalom!