The Israel Koschitzky
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PARASHAT BALAK
Rav David Silverberg
The Torah tells in Parashat Balak of Bilam's decision to accept the Moavite king's invitation to come and place a curse upon Benei Yisrael. We read, "Bilam arose in the morning and saddled his donkey" (22:21), a verse which the Sages (as cited by Rashi) interpreted as an indication of Bilam's zeal and vigor. His enthusiasm as he made his way to curse Benei Yisrael led him to personally prepare his donkey, rather than have one of his servants make his travel preparations. Rashi adds that God responded to Bilam's zeal by exclaiming, "Wicked one! Their forefather Avraham preceded you, as it says (Bereishit 22:3), 'Avraham arose in the morning and saddled his donkey'." Chazal here draw a contrasting parallel between Avraham's zeal in obeying God's command to offer his son as a sacrifice, and Bilam's enthusiastic departure to curse Benei Yisrael.
In explaining the significance of this parallel, we might point to the
veneer of altruism behind which Bilam likely concealed his hatred and contempt
for Benei Yisrael.
He perhaps justified his endeavor to have them destroyed by claiming that
they threatened the peace and stability of the region, in the wake of their
resounding victory over the Emorite kingdoms. The zeal that the Sages describe might
have signified Bilam's attempt to exhibit a sense of urgency, as though he
embarked on a critical mission necessitated by the concern for regional
stability. Of course, underneath
this outward display of altruism were thinly-veiled feelings of contempt for
God's people, and a burning desire to have them
eliminated.
Chazal perhaps introduce Avraham's faithful
compliance with God's command of the akeida in this context to serve as a converse
parallel to Bilam's situation.
Avraham's zeal and alacrity in preparing to kill his son would appear, on
the surface, as a display of incomparable cruelty and inhumanity. An onlooker would have likely thought to
himself, "Not only does Avraham prepare to commit an outrageous and unspeakable
crime, but he does so with delight and conviction." Upon examining the situation more
closely, of course, one would have discovered that Avraham's zeal had to do with
his faithfulness to God, and not, Heaven forbid, his cruelty toward his
son. If he displayed an eager
willingness to follow through on this act, it was due to his desire to obey the
divine command, and not the result of any sadistic
impulse.
God's message to Bilam, then, was that He can see through hollow,
external exhibitions of altruism and piety. Bilam's façade was no more accurate a
reflection of his heart and mind than Avraham's eagerness to perform the
akeida, which on the surface seemed to express
cruelty and heartlessness. God is
not fooled by externalities, by shallow, outward displays of piety. Bilam may have presented himself as
idealistic and sincere, but God understood full well that he was in fact driven
by greed, arrogance and contempt, and not by any form of
altruism.
******
We read in Parashat Balak of Bilam's travails as he made his way to Moav
to place a curse on Benei
Yisrael, when an angel stood in
his way on three occasions to prevent him from proceeding. On the second of the three occasions, we
read, Bilam rode along a road that passed through a vineyard, and the road was
surrounded on either side by a fence: "gader mi-zeh ve-gader mi-zeh" ("a fence on this side, and a fence on
this side" – 22:24).
The Midrash (Bamidbar
Rabba 20) takes note of the
parallel between this verse and the description of the script on the luchot (tablets) that Moshe brought from Mount
Sinai: "mi-zeh u-mi'zeh heim
ketuvim" ("they were inscribed on
this side and on this side" – Shemot 32:15). Based on this parallel, the Midrash
comments that God conveyed the message to Bilam that "you are unable to
overpower them, as they have in their possession tablets inscribed from either
side…" Benei Yisrael's possession of this divine script, which
appeared on both sides of the stone tablets, guaranteed their protection from
Bilam's efforts to destroy them.
We find another expression of the importance of this quality of the
luchot, in a passage in Masekhet Megila
(15a). The Gemara there addresses a
verse in Megilat Ester (4:5)
which tells that when Ester heard that Mordekhai had come to the palace
courtyard in sackcloth, she sent a servant to him to find out what had happened
– "la-da'at ma zeh ve-al ma zeh."
Chazal once again detect a parallel to the Torah's description of
the luchot, and thus explain Ester's question as, "Perhaps
Apparently, Chazal afforded great significance to the fact
that the writing appeared on both sides of the luchot, that it could somehow be read from either
side. Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in
his Yalkut Yehuda, suggested that this quality symbolizes the
"two-sided" aspect of Torah observance.
The letters of the luchot, the laws, obligations and prohibitions of
the Torah, must be observed from the two perspectives from which they can be
viewed. Namely, we are to commit
ourselves to both the letter of the law, and the spirit of the law. The "front view" of the luchot symbolizes the letter of the law, the
specific "dos" and "don'ts" of Halakha.
But in addition, we must be faithful to the other perspective of the
Torah, the spirit of the law, the broader values and ideals that it
teaches.
This, the Yalkut Yehuda suggests, is the message God sought
to convey to Bilam. He is unable to
overpower Benei Yisrael so long as they have in their possession to
the two-sided luchot, so long as they observe both perspectives
of the Torah. The Midrash thus
teaches that if we strictly observe the specific laws of the Torah while at the
same time living in accordance with the broader values of the Torah, we will be
deserving of God's protection from the unrelenting efforts of the many "Bilams"
who seek our destruction.
******
The final verses of Parashat Balak tell of the incident of Ba'al Pe'or, which ended when Pinchas, Aharon's grandson, killed an Israelite leader and a Midyanite princess who committed an offense in view of the entire nation. The verse reads, "Pinchas…saw and he arose from amidst the nation, and took a dagger in his hand…" (25:7).
The Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin (82a) infers from this verse the
halakha that one may not hold a weapon while in a beit
midrash (study hall). As Rashi explains, the Gemara understood
the word eida ("nation") in this verse as a reference to
the Sanhedrin, which was in the process of judging alleged idolaters, and
Pinchas took part in these proceedings.
The verse tells that Pinchas first "arose" from the Sanhedrin and only
then took hold of his weapon, suggesting that it is forbidden for one to have a
weapon in hand while in the study hall.
The Shulchan Arukh does not codify this halakha as presented in the Gemara, but instead
writes (O.C. 151:6), "There are those who forbid entering it [a synagogue] with
a long knife…" As explained in the
Beit Yosef, this ruling appears in the Orchot Chayim, where it is cited in the name of the
Maharam of Rothenberg. The Maharam
held that as prayer serves to prolong life, it is inappropriate to enter a house
of prayer with a weapon, which is intended to shorten
life.
The Maharitz Chayot (in Masekhet Sanhedrin) raises the question of why the Shulchan Arukh chose not to cite the halakha mentioned in the Gemara, which was stated in reference to a beit midrash, and instead codified the ruling of the Maharam regarding a synagogue. A number of later writers (Enayim Le-mishpat in Sanhedrin; Tzitz Eliezer, 10:18, citing Rav Chayim Palagi; Pardes Yosef He-chadash in Parashat Balak) note that the answer seems to lie in the well-established halakha affording a higher level of kedusha (halakhic sanctity) to a beit midrash than to a synagogue. The Gemara in Masekhet Megila (26b) states that it is permissible to turn a synagogue into a beit midrash, as this enhances, rather than diminishes from, the structure's sanctity. By the same token, it is forbidden to turn a beit midrash into a synagogue, as this would lower the building's status (Shulchan Arukh, O.C. 153:1). Presumably, then, the Shulchan Arukh cited the Maharam's ruling because it is more encompassing than the Gemara's comment, in that the Gemara speaks only of a beit midrash, whereas the Maharam extended this rule to include synagogues, despite their lower level of kedusha.
Surprisingly, however, the Maharitz Chayot posits the exact opposite
theory in raising this question against the Shulchan Arukh. He writes that it emerges from the
Gemara that "even into a beit midrash, whose sanctity is lower, it is
forbidden to enter [with a weapon], all the more so [this is forbidden] into a
synagogue, whose sanctity is greater."
The Maharitz Chayot works off the assumption that the kedusha of a synagogue exceeds that of a beit midrash, in which case the Gemara's ruling is more
encompassing than that of the Maharam, thus giving rise to the question of why
the Shulchan Arukh codified only the latter. This assumption, however, seems to be in
direct opposition to the sources cited earlier, which clearly state that a
synagogue possesses a lower level of kedusha than a beit midrash.
Rav Pinchas Zevichi (contemporary), in his Ateret Paz (vol. 1, C.M. 11), suggested a possible
explanation to reconcile the Maharitz Chayot's comments with the
well-established halakha affording a greater level of sanctity to
study halls. He writes that the
Maharitz Chayot perhaps speaks not of the intrinsic halakhic sanctity of
batei midrash and synagogues, but rather to the fact that
Halakha, in principle, allows full-time scholars to eat and drink in the
beit midrash where they study.
(The precise conditions and details of this halakha are subject to
some debate.) In this respect,
Halakha treats a beit midrash more leniently than a
synagogue. When it comes to
bringing personal belongings, it appears that the rules applying to a beit
midrash are more flexible than those concerning a synagogue, and thus the
Maharitz Chayot felt that Halakha would more likely forbid bringing a weapon
into a synagogue than into a beit midrash. He therefore viewed the Gemara's ruling,
forbidding bringing a weapon into a beit
midrash, as more expansive than
the halakha stated by the Maharam, which applies this
prohibition only to synagogues.
******
The Torah tells in Parashat Balak of Bilam's journey to Moav, during which an "angel of the Lord" obstructed his path, without revealing itself to Bilam. The donkey saw the angel and, much to Bilam's consternation, veered off the road and then simply crouched. Bilam responded by beating the donkey, which finally "spoke" to Bilam to protest: "What have I done to you, that you have beat me three times now?" (22:28).
Rashi, commenting on this verse, cites from the Midrash Tanchuma one of the more famous Midrashic passages pertaining to this parasha. The Midrash notes the unusual term regalim ("times" or "occasions") used in this verse, and draws a curious association between the donkey's objection to Bilam and the obligation of aliya le-regel, the pilgrimage to the Beit Ha-mikdash on Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot. When the donkey protests the brutality Bilam displayed shalosh regalim ("three times"), the Midrash comments, it alluded to the three pilgrimage festivals, as if to say (in Rashi's words), "You seek to uproot a nation that celebrates three regalim each year?" Many commentators throughout the ages have struggled to identify the precise point of connection between this episode and the three regalim.
One fairly simple explanation, perhaps, emerges from a verse in Sefer
Shemot (34:24) that guarantees Benei Yisrael special protection when they
perform the mitzva of aliya le-regel: "…and no man shall desire your land when
you go to be seen in the presence of the Lord your God three times a year." The pilgrimage of all Benei Yisrael's males left the nation's cities, lands
and assets vulnerable to enemy invasion.
God therefore assured Benei Yisrael that no nation shall seek to
pillage or loot their deserted towns during the period of aliya
le-regel. Possibly, then, the
reference to the three regalim in the context of Bilam's attempt to
destroy Benei Yisrael relates to the unique protection which they
enjoy. Bilam was shown that just as
Benei Yisrael's property was protected during their pilgrimages to the Mikdash, so were they shielded from any harm that
Bilam would otherwise be capable of inflicting.
Another possible approach touches upon the unifying quality of the
Beit Ha-mikdash generally, and aliya le-regel in particular. When Yerov'am ben Nevat established the
Northern Kingdom of Israel and sought to solidify the schism between the
northern tribes and the southern kingdom, he appointed guards to prevent his
constituents from traveling to the
The Meshekh Chokhma suggests a much different point of connection between this episode and aliya le-regel. The donkey essentially demonstrates to Bilam the bitter irony of the entire situation, of his assumption that he is capable of casting some sort of spell upon Benei Yisrael. Three times a year, the nation gathers in the Beit Ha-mikdash to behold the presence of the Shekhina. (The Gemara towards the beginning of Masekhet Chagiga famously describes aliya le-regel as an occasion on which Benei Yisrael are seen before God, and on which they see God, meaning, they behold the Shekhina.) Yet, Bilam was incapable of even seeing the angel obstructing his path. The donkey thus noted Benei Yisrael's ability to see far more than Bilam ever could, which rendered his insidious efforts entirely futile.
We might add that the theme of "seeing" is quite prevalent throughout this parasha. In fact, the very first word of this narrative is va-yar, which tells of Balak's analysis of Benei Yisrael's recent triumph over the Emorites. And later in the parasha, Bilam speaks of himself as "beholding the vision of Sha-dai" and possessing "open eyes" (24:4,16)). The Torah also makes a point on several occasions to note how Bilam looked out and saw Benei Yisrael before declaring his prophecy, and in Bilam's final prophecy he describes himself as "seeing" the distant future (24:17). In light of the Meshekh Chokhma's remarks, we might say that Balak and Bilam, each in their own way, thought they could "see" more clearly than anybody else, but ultimately it is Benei Yisrael who "see" the most important and meaningful vision of all. They behold the Shekhina; they look to God for guidance and instruction, with a genuine desire to follow His commands. Balak and Bilam try to predict and foresee future events, in an effort to "outsmart" or manipulate God, as it were, but Benei Yisrael are interested only in beholding the Shekhina, in understanding God and the mission He assigned us in this world.
******
Yesterday, we discussed an intriguing Midrashic passage cited by Rashi in his commentary to Parashat Balak (22:28), which draws a connection between Bilam's attempt to curse Benei Yisrael and the obligation of aliya le-regel (the festival pilgrimage to the Mikdash). According to the Midrash Tanchuma, when Bilam's donkey complains, "What have I done to you, that you have beat me three times now?" it alludes to the three pilgrimages made on Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot. It says to Bilam, in the words of the Midrash, "You seek to uproot a nation that celebrates three regalim each year?"
Rav David Mandelbaum, in his Pardes Yosef He-chadash, cites a cryptic but insightful explanation
to this passage from his father, Rav Moshe Mandelbaum. Elsewhere in the Midrash Tanchuma (Rashi to 23:2), Chazal comment that Bilam sought to cast an
ayin ha-ra – "evil eye" – upon Benei Yisrael, in an effort to have them destroyed. Here Bilam is shown that such efforts
are bound to fail, because Benei
Yisrael are privileged to frequent
the Beit Ha-mikdash three times a year, when they are "seen"
before God. The Gemara in Masekhet
Chagiga (2a) comments that when Benei
Yisrael assemble in the Temple on
the pilgrimage festivals, God looks upon them, as it were, an image that likely
signifies the bestowing of God's favor and blessings upon the nation. Any ayin ha-ra that Bilam could possibly cast upon
Benei Yisrael would have no effect on the "eyes" of God
that lovingly look upon them three times each year.
Bilam's plan was to arouse God's anger toward Benei
Yisrael, to sever the bonds of love that existed between the Almighty
and His special nation. Thus, for
example, according to Rashi (24:1), Bilam brought to mind the sin of the golden
calf in order to undermine their worthiness. More famously, the Gemara in Masekhet
Berakhot (7a) comments that Bilam had prophetic knowledge of the precise moment
when God's anger is aroused. He
sought to cast a "spell" on the people by finding ways to kindle God's
fury. This, perhaps, is the ayin
ha-ra of which Chazal speak. The response to Bilam was the mitzva of aliya le-regel, God's unique relationship with Benei Yisrael as demonstrated on the regalim.
Benei Yisrael "visit" the Almighty bringing special
"gifts," and He, in turn, extends to them His blessings of peace and
prosperity. The occasions of the
regalim, during the time of the Mikdash, resembled dear friends who visit one
another to spend quality time together, exchange gifts and enjoy their
friendship. Aliya le-regel thus represents and reflects the special
bonds of friendship and affection between God and Am Yisrael, which Bilam's ayin ha-ra was incapable of
breaking.
As the period of bein
ha-metzarim approaches, it might
be worth noting that what Bilam was unable to do, Am Yisrael accomplished themselves. In the famous first chapter of Sefer
Yeshayahu, God exclaims through the prophet, "And when you come to be seen in My
presence – who requested this of you, trampling My courtyard?" (verse 12). He further describes how He "despises"
their festival celebrations, and considers them a nuisance (verse 14). When somebody betrays his dear friend,
he is not welcomed in the friend's home; a visit would be looked upon as an
intrusion. Once Benei Yisrael ceased following the laws and values of the
Torah, as Yeshayahu describes in his prophecy, their presence was no longer
welcomed in the Beit
Ha-mikdash. Through their misconduct, they breached
the trust and severed the bonds of affection between God and His people, forcing
Him to withdraw His presence from their midst.
******
We read in Parashat Balak that at one point during Bilam's failed attempt
to place a curse upon Benei
Yisrael, he beheld Am Yisrael "dwelling according to its tribes"
("shokhein li-shvatav"), a sight which inspired him with "the
spirit of God" (24:2). The Gemara
(Bava Batra 60a), in a famous passage, explains this verse to mean that Bilam
saw how the doors to Benei
Yisrael's tents did not face one
another. Neighbors guaranteed each
other's privacy by pitching the tents in such a way that avoided the possibility
of peering into the neighboring tent.
The common understanding of the Gemara's comment associates it with the
area of tzeni'ut ("modesty"), taking precautions to
safeguard against illicit behavior.
The arrangement of Benei Yisrael's tents helped ensure that
husbands and wives would direct their emotional interests toward only one
another, thereby preserving domestic stability and the desired aura of kedusha among the people.
If so, then we cannot but note the tragic irony that arises from the end
of Parashat Balak, which tells the disheartening story of Ba'al Pe'or, an episode involving forbidden
relationships with the women of Moav.
As Chazal understood from the text (see Rashi to
24:14 and 25:1, citing Sanhedrin 106a), it was Bilam's idea to lure Benei Yisrael to sin in this fashion. The same Benei Yisrael whom Bilam lauded for their exceptional
standards in the area of intimate relations, fell prey to his scheme to lure
them to idolatry through the seductive efforts of the Moavite
women.
This contrast is observed by Rav Dov Weinberger, in his Shemen Ha-tov, who draws our attention in this context to Rashi's comments much earlier in the parasha (22:12). Citing from the Midrash Tanchuma, Rashi writes that when God initially ordered Bilam not to travel to Moav to curse Benei Yisrael, Bilam proposed the idea that he should perhaps bless Benei Yisrael, instead. God replied, "They do not need your blessing… This is analogous to saying to a bee, '[I am interested] neither in your honey nor in your sting'." Chazal here observe that even Bilam's blessings posed a certain danger to Benei Yisrael, much as obtaining a bee's honey could result in a sting. The Shemen Ha-tov explains this comment as referring to the dangers of flattery. Bilam's praises of Benei Yisrael perhaps resulted in a degree of overconfidence and a relaxation of their standards. Upon hearing of the gentile seer's admiration and awe of their strict moral code, they felt too complacent and began letting their guard down. This response is what allowed for the devastating moral collapse of Ba'al Pe'or.
The ill effects of Bilam's blessing reflect the flipside of the quality of ayin ra'a that Chazal associate with Bilam. Bilam habitually sought to focus his attention on people's negative qualities, and to identify and highlight their spiritual weaknesses, rather than look for their virtues. But what the story of Ba'al Pe'or perhaps reveals is that he failed in the opposite direction, as well. Even when he managed to give praise, he gave too much praise; his expression of admiration perhaps crossed the line into the realm of flattery. As important as it is to give compliments and show respect for the admirable qualities of people, one hardly does his fellow any favors by making him feel far greater than he is, which generally leads to complacency and overconfidence, rather than further encouragement and growth.
******
Parashat Balak concludes with the tragic episode of Ba'al Pe'or,
whereby Benei Yisrael became involved with the women of Moav and
the idolatrous worship of the Ba'al Pe'or deity. During this incident, Zimri, the tribal
leader of Shimon, committed a public offense with a Midyanite princess, Kozbi,
in full view of the nation and its leaders. The grave incident came to an abrupt
conclusion when Pinchas, Aharon's grandson, avenged the honor of God by slaying
the two violators.
Curiously, in narrating this episode the Torah chooses not to identify
Zimri and Kozbi by name, and instead introduces them as simply an ish Yisrael ("Israelite man") and "the Midyanite"
(25:6). It is only later, in
Parashat Pinchas, when God declares Pinchas' reward, that the Torah discloses
the identity of the slain perpetrators (25:14-15). One might wonder, at first glance, why
their identity was not initially revealed.
After all, the stature of the violator as a tribal leader undoubtedly
lent a higher degree of severity to the sinful act, particularly in light of the
public nature of the offense. We
might have thus expected the Torah to take note of Zimri's position in its
initial and primary account of this unfortunate episode.
Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch offers the following explanation for why the
Torah chose to keep Zimri's identity concealed in the main narrative:
Nevertheless here he is designated simply as
"a man of the children of
The Torah spoke of Zimri as simply an "ish Yisrael" precisely to convey the message that when it comes to such an offense, his leadership role is entirely irrelevant. The gravity of this sin, and of its harsh consequences, in truth has nothing at all to do with Zimri's status or rank. This act of religious and national betrayal would have been deemed an outrageous disgrace regardless of the man's identity. Zimri's name is therefore disclosed only later, as a parenthetical addendum to the story, rather than in the primary narrative.
The fact that more is expected of leaders should not be taken as absolving the rest of their moral and religious obligations. Each and every individual is equally bound by the mandates of the Torah, and cannot excuse himself on the grounds of his layman status. Anyone bearing the title "ish Yisrael" is charged with the responsibility of upholding the Torah's laws, irrespective of his status in relation with other members of the nation.