Parashat Balak
16 July 2022 / 17 Tamuz 5782
Torah: Numbers 22:2-25:9; Triennial 22:39-25:9
Haftarah: Micah 5:6-6:8
The Unwanted Gaze
Ilana Kurshan
In this week s parashah, the Moabite king Balak hires Bilaam, a famous sorcerer, to curse the Israelites encamped on the steppes of his land. Bilaam, who is able to speak only those words which God places in his mouth, ends up blessing the Israelites in spite of repeated attempts to curse them. Bilaam s curse-turned-blessing, which appears in several stanzas of finely-wrought biblical poetry, most famously includes the prayer Ma Tovu, which Jews traditionally recite upon entering synagogue in the morning: How goodly are your tents O Jacob, your dwellings O Israel (25:5). The rabbis interpret these words of praise as a reflection of a unique characteristic of the children of Israel, offering us a window into what it means to see and to be seen in an age of sharing and shaming on social media.
The Talmud, in commenting on Bilaam s blessing, notes that Bilaam observed that the people were encamped tribe by tribe (24:2). According to the rabbis, this meant that the windows of their homes were not aligned with one another, such that it was impossible to look out of one person s window into the home of another. Rashi (on 24:5) adds that this is the meaning of Bilaam s blessing of Ma Tovu the tents of the Israelites were goodly because their doorways were not aligned, such that even if two people had their doors open simultaneously, they would not be able to look into one another s tents. Bilaam noted this feature of the Israelite encampment and said, They are worthy of the divine presence descending upon them (Bava Batra 60a).
Rashi explains that Bilaam was praising the people for their modesty and their inward focus. Even in the desert, where the people lived in temporary tents that they continually took down and then re-pitched, they took care that no one would be able to see anything that a neighbor might not want him or her to observe. Since they were not distracted by what was going on in the homes of others, presumably they could focus on the interior of their own homes, and on ensuring that those homes were goodly.
The Talmudic discussion of Bilaam s blessing appears in the context of a passage in Bava Batra about hezek re iya, a rabbinic phrase meaning the damage of being seen. The rabbis teach that one may not add an entrance or a window to one s home opposite the entrance or window of another home, nor may a person open a window into another person s courtyard, because of the damage of being seen (59b). Every person is entitled to privacy, and being robbed of that privacy
constitutes a form of damage. This is a lesson understood very well by anyone who has ever assumed they were in private and then subsequently discovered that they were being observed: An unwanted gaze can be as harmful and as violating as a physical blow, inflicting very real psychological damage.
In our own time, when we think of unwanted gazes, we generally think about looking upon another person in a moment of vulnerability. In an era of social media and sharing, there is tremendous anxiety about being shamed and exposed by another person in public. But for the rabbis, the damage of being seen was as much about moments of triumph as it was about moments of tribulation. The Talmud, in its discussion of hezek re-iya, teaches that it is forbidden for a person to stand in another person s field and look at his crop while his grain is standing (2b). One neighbor may not gaze at another person s successful harvest, explains Rashi, lest he harm him with the evil eye. When we observe a neighbor s bounty, we are run the risk of harming our neighbor and ourselves with our envy.
We all have moments in life when our neighbor s grain stands taller than our own. One neighbor may be sitting shiva for her mother at the very same time her neighbor next door is marrying off her daughter; one neighbor may have lost his job at the very same time his neighbor was promoted. If we are focused on another person s happiness during our time of adversity, we may find we cannot help but resent, begrudge, and perhaps even wish ill upon our neighbor. The solution, the Talmud suggests, is to build a partition and mis-align our windows, so that we not distracted by the goings-on next door. When we can t see into our neighbor s windows, we have no choice but to look into
the eyes of those sitting around the kitchen table with us. This inward focus is more difficult in an era when technology offers constant windows into each other s lives; there are windows on our computers and our phones that we probably all ought to close.
Our parashah suggests that the Moabites, unlike the Israelites, were unable to focus their gaze within. As the opening verses of the parashah teach, Balak son of Zippor saw all that Israel had done to the Amorites. Moab was alarmed because that people was so numerous (22:2-3). Balak, king of Moab, observes the Israelites encamped on the outskirts of his land and grows wary of this neighboring people s success. Rather than focusing on his own people, he summons an outsider the sorcerer Bilaam to curse his threatening neighbor. But the Israelites are immune to Bilaam s curses because, as Bilaam himself observes, They are a people dwelling apart, not reckoning itself among the nations (23:9). The Israelites are not concerned with what the neighboring nations are doing. By virtue of focusing on their own goodly tents, rather than eyeing or vying with others, the Israelites are worthy for the divine presence to descend upon them.
My Land or My Resources?
Vered Hollander-Goldfarb
Text: Bemidbar 22:2-4
2And Balak the son of Zippor saw all that Israel had done to the Amorites.
3And Moab was exceedingly afraid of the people because they were many,
and Moab was sick with dread because of the children of Israel. 4So Moab said
to the elders of Midian, Now this company will lick up everything around
us, as an ox licks up the grass of the field. And Balak the son of Zippor was
king of the Moabites at that time.
Moab is located on the east side of the Dead Sea, just south of the territory of Sihon which the Israelites conquered. (See last week s Torah Sparks)
● Balak seems to react to one thing, while the people of Moab mention something seemingly different that worries them. What is each one afraid of? Are their concerns different?
● Based on what Moab tells the elders of Midian, do they expect a repeat of what happened to Sihon and Og? Why?
Commentar y: Rashi Bemidbar 22:2
And Balak saw all that Israel had done to the Amorites He said to his people: Those two kings (Sihon and Og) on whom we relied (see Rashi in
Commentar y: Ramban Bemidbar 22:3
Now Moab knew that Israel would not take their land from them, since they had sent to them [offering peace] just as they had sent to Sihon, [asking permission only to pass through their land], saying, until I shall pass over the Jordan into the Land which the Eternal our G-d giveth us . Or it is also possible that they had heard of G-d’s prohibition (Deut. 2), when He said to the Israelites, Be not at enmity with Moab. Therefore they said to the elders of Midian: "Even though the Israelites will not capture our land, they will lick up – because of their great numbers – all that is round about us, as an ox licks up the grass of the field, and they will capture all [the lands] that surround us, just as they did to the two Amorite kings, and they will make us servants to do taskwork."
● Ramban suggests that Moab was not afraid of losing their land to the Israelites. What are his two reasons for thinking so? What did the Moabite dread?
● Comparing Rashi s and Ramban s readings. What support can you find in the text for each reading?
so; therefore, Moab was sick with dread.
● How are the reactions of King Balak and the people of Moab related?
● What were the Moabites relying on the Amorites for?
What is Good?
Bex Stern Rosenblatt
There is something disturbing in hearing basic tenants of human decency presented as if they are revelatory. Shouldn t we know these already? Have we still not figured out how to live together? Are these sayings directed at someone else, someone who isn t me, who has messed up? Because there is an assumption that we, the civilized, the educated, the thoughtful, don t need to hear this again.
In this week s haftarah from the Book of Micah, we come across just this sort of description. In a rejection of meaningless sacrifice and especially the sacrifice of children, the text communicated what we ought to be doing instead. We read, as translated by Robert Alter:
It was told to you, man, what is good [ma tov]
and what the LORD demands of you only doing justice and loving kindness and walking humbly with your God.
The Book of Micah likely occurs around the time of the destruction of the Northern Kingdom. This is not an early book. And yet, we still need reminding not to engage in child sacrifice. We still need reminding that sacrifice without ethical behavior is not good enough. We have been told what is good but we need telling again.
In our parasha, Balaam sees what is good in the eyes of God and opens his mouth to bless us, telling us what the good is. He says, as translated by Alter, How goodly [ma tovu] your tents, O Jacob, your
dwellings, O Israel! The phrase is echoed in Song of Songs, where we read one lover addressing the other with the words, How good is your love, better than wine. Good is Israel, good is love. Good springs from God and from relationship. Balaam the non-Israelite knows it and the heated lovers in Song of Songs know it. So why are we still figuring this out in the Book of Micah? Why is child sacrifice still a possibility we need to mention at all?
Our haftarah portion begins with two possibilities for what function Israel serves for the rest of the world. The first is to be dew from God, the second is to be a vengeful lion. We either nourish and heal or destroy violently. It s reminiscent of Mishnah Berakhot 9:5, the requirement to bless the bad as well as the good. Israel s actions as healer or destroyer are both deserving of blessing and both servre a purpose. But, when we act as holy destroyer, we risk losing our hold on our humanity. So we remind ourselves of what is good, rather than just what is necessary. Goodness is dwelling in tents and walking with God. Goodness is aspirational. We have to keep reminding ourselves what goodness is not because we forget or because we live among evil people, but rather because we are living in a world where children are killed and we are required to respond as both healing dew and destructive lions.