Bilaam and Change

Midrash, Bamidbar Rabbah asks:

“Why don’t animals speak?”

“If they were able to speak it would be impossible for them to work for humans and no one could stand against them.  For here is this donkey, the most stupid of all creatures, and then there was her master, Balaam, the wisest of all men, and he could not contend with the donkey.”

“Therefore out of consideration for people, the Holy One closed the mouths of beasts.”

Remember the last time an animal spoke in the Torah?  It was in the Garden of Eden.  And that event was so cataclysmic it ended with the first man women disabusing one another ending with their expulsion from Eden.  It all started with a talking snake. 

Such a comment gels with the Torah, which states that “God opened the mouth of the donkey…” (Num. 22:28).  Until now, it was firmly shut along with all the other beasts of the world since the time of Eden. 

According to one Hasidic source, the nations of the world hear that Moshe rabbenu has led the forces of Israel from bondage and through glorious conquests since their liberation.  They further murmured that Moshe’s strength was inimical to him: His speech abilities enabled the Israelites to vanquish all their enemies.  That is why God disproved them by placing the power of speech in the donkey’s mouth.  This would prove the power of God was the source of all true power (imrei kohen)

The donkey also has a past.  According to Midrash he was a gift given by Jacob to pharaoh.  You will remember how Jacob spent his final years in Egypt, brought by his son Joseph, viceroy to the throne.

Jacob gifted the donkey to the Pharaoh with the caveat that the king always treats the Israelites kindly.  Time passed and Bilaam, the prophet-for-hire, bent the ear of the Pharaoh and convinced him that Pharaoh could make better use of the Jews by making them work for him, eventually enslaving them. Bilaam further advised Pharaoh to increase the quota of bricks that the Jews were forced to make.

It is interesting what the Midrash is doing. The Midrash is trying to sew the thread between various stories so that we can get a bigger picture of these narratives.  Everything is connected.  Bilaam’s noxious behavior is consistent throughout the years.  He can spotted throughout the ages advising people on how best to hurt one another.

Do people change?  Of course they do but it does not come easily or without effort.  Most times, the effort comes from elsewhere, from the unconsidered aspects of life.  There often needs to be an “emergency” or an unavoidable conflict that forces us to bend. In Bilaam’s instance change does not come until God decides that He will intervene. 

That is where the donkey comes in.  Apparently, Bilaam refuses change until he hears it from an unlikely source, one that has remained silent since Eden.

Shlach Lecha

Faith

The Midrash states that nothing can compare with the person who risks his life to fulfill a mitzvah.  Let the truth be told; we are here only because someone risked their life to escape the clutches of people who were bent on destroying them.  It is just like the powerful and prescient narrative of the Passover Haggadda, “A wandering Aramean tried to destroy my father.”  That is how Jacob wound up living in Egypt.  He ran from Laban who was intent on murdering him.  Is your family’s story very different?  Probably not. 

         Although prior generations were reluctant to share their painful journeys, we know the truth of it.  They were running from terror.  That is how most Jews in the world arrived where they are today.  Some edict, pogrom, a threat or Holocaust pushed them toward an opaque, unknown future.  We are alive today because of they left their roots.

Emunah is the Hebrew word for “faith.”  Emunah is connected to another word that is familiar to everyone, “Amen.”   Both have the same Hebrew base.  Whenever we utter “Amen” we are affirming our faith in what has been stated.

This week’s Torah reading, Shlach Lecha, is about both elements, making journey to an unknown place and having faith.

God did not command Moshe to send out people to spy the Land of Israel; the people demanded it.  So Moshe, according to Sforno, deliberately handed over the task of determining the viability of the Land to the chiefs of the tribes, knowing they would be fearless and honest.  Yet, his trust was misplaced. The chiefs and nation as a whole lacked the “emunah” in God’s word and hence they had forty years of exile and wandering.

Rashi later observed that if the Israelites had faith in God’s promise to deliver them safely, not only would they have been spared a generation in the desert but many wars when they subsequently encountered hostile tribes along the way.

In a more personal sense, we are commanded to follow God’s mitzvot, whether we understand their meaning or not.  Such is an act of “emunah.”  To do a mitzvah is by definition an act of faith.  Implicit in the action, doing the mitzvah, is the idea of God (if there is law, there must be a Lawgiver).  When we follow God’s dicta we are acknowledging it, as well as Him.

In this way each of us is on a life-long journey.  We do not know the destination but we have all the necessary provisions to keep us on the right path.  Essentially, teaches the Safat Emet, in following the mitzvot we are faithfully (maintaining our emunah) adhering to a journey that will keep us safe and end in the promised land of our future.   In his commentary, the Safat Emet reminds us of the phrase from Ecclesiastes, “There is a time for every purpose under heaven.”  The way he understands this statement is to underscore the words “under heaven.”  Tread the path of God and all else will make sense, even the parts that we do not understand.

According to our sages, the date when the tribal chiefs returned with their faithless report was Tisha B’Av, the generational night of tragedy and weeping.  This date, which we mark yearly by fasting, reading Lamentations and recalling the terrible events of the past, is less about history and tragedy and more about faith moving forward.

Going back to the narrative in the Torah, when the people heard that the land of Israel was too great and overwhelming for them they responded, “Let us appoint a new leader that will take us back to Egypt!”  What was in front of the people was unfathomable whereas the past was known.  Despite the fact that Egypt represented their tortured past, it was preferable for them to go backward instead of forward. 

We know that was a dreadful mistake in reading this ancient story.  We know how it turned out.  Is our present day lives all that different?  Isn’t having faith, moving into an uncertain future, less palatable than moving backward?  Even if moving backward brings us into the arms of diminution of character or will bring us pain?

Emunah is the hallmark of this week’s parasha and what ought to be the hallmark of our lives.

Do not look over your shoulder at what was: Look forward towards what can be.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

D'var Aher

Dialogue from the 2,000 year-old man:

Carl Reiner: "What was the means of transportation then?"
Mel Brooks: "Mostly fear."
Reiner: "Fear transported you?"
Brooks: "Fear, yes. An animal would growl — you would go two miles in a minute. Fear would be the main propulsion."

Fear is a great force for movement.  Instincts allow us to save ourselves from potential threats.  Fear also diminishes us.

In the week’s Torah portion we read of how the fear kept the generation of the desert from transcending to a higher level of life.

The Israelites, still newly sprung from the Egyptian slavery were on the verge of entering into the land which God promised. Yet they could not bring themselves to summon the courage to engage their destiny.  They saw a land filled with unknown terrors, giants that would squash them, a land which they were undeserving of entering, and strange people who might be friends or foes.

God granted their wish.  They would not come into Israel for another generation, when they would have hopefully grown out of their self-imposed limitations.

We are those Jews, still wrestling against the tide of fear; afraid to speak up when immigrants are abused, afraid to stand up for ourselves when virulent anti-Semitism arises and personally daunted to take on new challenges.

We read the story of the Shlach Lecha and the fears faced by our ancestors as a personal trial to speak up and stand up when it matters most.

Vayikra

In the week’s Torah reading, called Vayikra, there is an oddity.  The word Vayikra is written with a tiny aleph as the last letter.  It is actually written that way in the holy Torah.

Why?  Without the aleph the word Vayikra become Vayikar, changing the meaning from “And He called….” to “And he was dear…”

Perhaps it could indicate two meanings at once.  God “called” to Moses and spoke to him the next words.  At the same, time, it is implicit that Moses was very “dear” to God.  Why would there be a need to state both?  Maybe God always holds us very dear when He calls to us….even when we are oblivious to the call.  This is a powerful idea because with other people we want them to respond to us for we connect with them.  It is not so with God.   He reaches out even when we do not reciprocate.

Could this be the lesson we are being taught?  That God wants us to always think the best of one another.  When someone does not acknowledge our efforts or our presence we become offended and want to strike back at them.  Yet, we know the truth: there are times when a person is so self-absorbed they do not see what is happening around them.  Other times they are nursing a wound, which may have nothing to do with us.  And by our misinterpretation of their action we can destroy this relationship.

It is a mitzvah to forgive and judge people kindly.  May we do so.  With all the comments made, especially with which we do not agree, may kindness prevail over bitterness.

Healing Waters

When, at the beginning of the parasha (18:4) three angels approach Avram, the ailing patariarch runs out to greet them.  It is a powerful moment as the reader marvels at this man’s ability to run with alacrity three days after having undergone a circumcision!  He exclaimes, “Let some water be brought to wash your feet before you rest under a tree.”

Avram then gathers a magnificent feast for his guests.  One cannot help but wonder why it seems Avram was so stingy with water and so effusive about serving the travelers every possible food.  Midrash Lekach Tov noted that Avram was tight with the water because he asked his servants to do this task and did not want to overburden them.  Regarding the food, he went to prepare that alongside his wife so he was more giving.

Contrast that story with the scene that occurs when two of those same angels came to Lot in Sodom.  Lot tells the visitors, “Spend the night here, wash your feet, then get up early and be on your way” (19:1).  Unlike Avram, Lot does not assist his guests with their washing at all.  Further, he makes it clear they are not wanted in his home any longer than they have to be there.  Is it any wonder then that the angels decline to stay with Lot altogether prefering to spend the night in the street?

Soon afterward, the angels warn Lot to flee Sodom with his family.  One angel advises them "Flee for your life!  Do not look behind you, nor step anywhere in the Plain; flee to the hills, lest you be swept away" (19:17).  Why shouldn't they look back?  What difference could it possibily make? Rashi comments, "let it suffice you to save your lives; do not give a thought to your possessions."  In other words, these messengers of God knew the character of Lot and his family.  They understood their deep attachment to physical things.  Lot and company were miserly to their core.

Avram and Lot are a study in human behavior.  One is giving without out thought to his persoanl wealth.  Avram understands the essential mission of life as stated by Winston Churchill, “We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.” In the Midrash we are taught that this is the reason why Avram was elected to be the progenitor of this new people.  God saw inside this man a willingness to share whatever he had with others. God does not make us into saints or villains.  We choose those roads for ourselves.  Yet, we understand that God keenly watches how we behave toward one another because that is the determinant of character. 
And what did God see?  He saw that Avram believed that “to do is to be” and not vice versa.  The Holy One, blessed be He, witnessed in Avram that the power of tzedaka is the bonding force that heals the world. 
And what is tzedaka as defined by our text? It is the way we treat people not as fortunate as ourselves (think of the servant with the water); it is the way we respond to strangers who are in need of food or companionship; it is the genuine “givingness” that comes from the heart; it is valuing people over things.
Perhaps no other message is more fitting for this day when we honor a man who takes his cues from Avram in the way he nurtures all souls in this community, how Aaron protects us from threats, how he has served this community as well as congregation in a way that would make Avram proud.

Righteous Anger and What We Do With It

The Torah reading is a very sad and painful tale about one of the children of Jacob, Dinah.  Dinah was forcibly taken by the son of a local prince and violated.  After raping her, Shechem longed for Dinah.  Shechem, the rapist, desired Dinah and his family approached Dinah’s family to ask that their families be joined.   The families came to an agreement: If the entire city were circumcised, Dinah’s family would consent to the arrangement. Shechem and his people agreed.  The deed was done.

At eight days old circumcisions, a brit milah, is no big deal but at twenty or thirty years old it is a significant operation.  On the third day as the men were recuperating and in great pain, two of the sons of Jacob, Shimon and Levi, attacked and slew the entire population: the perpetrator, his family, all the inhabitants under their rule and even the livestock were slaughtered.  After the revenge, Jacob, the father of Shimon and Levi was distraught.  He accused Shimon and Levi of making him a vile, disgusting, and a terrible thing in the eyes of the inhabitants of the land.  Without mincing his words, Jacob heaped his angst on Shimon and Levi by also telling them that their family would now be targeted by the other tribes nearby.

Many years later, as Jacob lay dying; he assembled all his children and blessed them.  He chose his words very carefully as he blessed them with the gifts they had already begun to show.  When it came to Shimon and Levi, Jacob blessed them by saying “you are companions of violence...”  He went on to tell them they would eventually be subsumed by the other tribes because of their unchecked ferocious anger.

What is truly remarkable is that after all those years Jacob did not calm down, moderate his disappointment in his two children.  His initial reaction to Shimon and Levi remained decades later.  Not even at the cusp of death was his anger mollified.  So, Jacob was not speaking out of anger; he was speaking from his heart.

What do we make of Shimon and Levi?  Are they heroes or villains?  The Sages are divided.  Two opinions, one by Rambam and the other by Ramban, indicated that the entire people, the city of Shechem, had violated some great universal principle that made it imperative that Shechem’s people shared the common guilt for Dinah’s rape.  Yet, the explanations seem forced.

In 1961 Stanley Milgram conducted a famous study at Yale University.  He collected volunteers to administer electric shocks to another “volunteer” who was strapped into a chair.  When the “volunteer” in the chair answered questions incorrectly he was to be administered electric shocks by the other.  The real volunteer sat before a panel with thirty switches in a straight line.  From left to right they read, “Slight Shock, Moderate Shock, Strong Shock, Very Strong Shock, Intense Shock, Extreme Intensity Shock, Danger: Severe Shock.  The “volunteer” in the chair was an actor who, when he saw that a charge was being sent by the real volunteer they made painful noises, at times even complaining they had a heart condition.

Ranging from 15 to 450 volts the volunteer pressed the switches that would have sent shocks rippling through the subject.  After hearing the actor scream at 150 volts over 80% continued to press the shock button.  Well over sixty percent of the volunteers in the trial complied with task and pressed the switch at full strength, 450 volts!

About the same time that this experiment was going on, another occurrence was riveting the world’s attention in Israel.  In 1960 Adolf Eichmann was captured in Argentina.  The architect of the “Final Solution,” Adolf Eichmann oversaw the murder of six million.  

Eichmann stood trial in Jerusalem about one year later.  A reporter for the New Yorker was dispatched to cover the story, Hannah Arendt.  What she found shocked her.  Arendt expected to see a monster with all but fangs and blood at the edges of his lips.  Instead, Arendt found a bureaucrat.   She was amazed at Eichmann’s inability to think critically.  Eichmann appeared like any unstriking businessman and not the picture of a psychopath at all.  His “following orders” justification was recited remarkable clarity and with no self doubt or guilt about sending millions of Jews to their deaths.  

Is this what God meant when He said just before the ultimate destruction in Noah’s time that “the thoughts of man’s heart are always evil?”  Was God also frustrated by humanity that the earth needed to be swept clean?  Is it possible that what lies at the center of every human being is so ugly and terrible that we do not deserve life?  Was Lord Acton’s statement, “Power tends to corrupt.  Absolute power corrupts absolutely” correct?  Given the opportunity to do evil and not be held responsible for our actions – like Eichmann and the volunteers in the Milgram study- we would all follow the same path?

Yet again in 1971 another experiment was conducted at Stanford University.  Two groups of students were divided into “prison guards” and “prisoners.”  The two week experiment was halted after just six days because of the terrible brutality used by the “prison guards.”

Katherine DeCelles, a University of Toronto professor, recently brought some new evidence to light.  In a study featured in Journal of Applied Psychology, DeCelles determined that people who had a high “moral identity;” those whose self-view, personal self-sense was to be kind were kind when they were in a position of power.  In other words, not all people placed in positions of power will abuse their privilege.  The way we see ourselves determines how we behave.

Perhaps this is the reason Torah preserves this very uncomfortable story about Dinah and her brothers.  Perhaps this is why we have Father Jacob telling his sons twice in his lifetime that they did wrong as a signal for us to learn the lesson Shimon and Levi should have known.  Perhaps this is also why the Torah never declares outright who was right and who was wrong in the story of Dinah and her brothers.  Which side we believe is correct may be an indication of our moral compass.  And, if by chance we chose wrongly God gave us an opportunity to turn ourselves around.

In Judaism we have a tool to keep us in check.  It is called teshuva.  Teshuva is the right and task of every being to change course.  When we perceive that we are on the wrong course we can repent and redirect our path.

As Golda Meir, the Prime Minister of Israel said in 1968, “When peace comes we will perhaps in time be able to forgive the Arabs for killing our sons, but it will be harder for us to forgive them for having forced us to kill their sons.”