It’s a Curse Only if We Don’t See the Blessing

They are the first words of the morning service.

“Ma tovu oholecha Yaakov mishkenotecha Yisrael - How fair are your tents, O Jacob, Your dwellings, O Israel!” (Bamidbar 24:5)

We all know the story. Balak asks Balaam to curse the Jews. While Balaam may have wanted to curse them, he was beholden to God’s will and had to bless them instead.

Why would we start our davening with the coerced blessing of someone who hates us? The Talmud (Sanhedrin 105b) makes Balaam’s intentions pretty clear:

“Rabbi Yocḥanan says: From the blessing of that wicked person, Balaam, you can ascertain what was in his heart. God transformed the curses that he planned into blessings. He sought to say that they should not have synagogues and study halls, and he said instead: “How goodly are your tents, Jacob.”

The words of Ma tovu may sound nice, but there is plenty of malice aforethought.

In fact, Rabbi Shlomo Luria (Reponsa Maharshal #64) explains that his practice was to omit the “Ma tovu…” sentence when he prayed. He began with the second sentence of that passage invoking God’s kindness in allowing us to come to Shul to daven.

The Minhag Yisrael (widespread Jewish practice), however, is to begin our prayers with Ma tovu. Why aren’t we concerned with it originating as a curse with hateful intentions? Isn’t there a better sentiment with which to start?

The Balaam episode is a lesson in transforming kelalah (curses) into berachah (blessings). We may not be able to control the statements or sentiments said toward or against us. We can control how we internalize and act upon those words.

Rabbi Norman Lamm, in a 1954 sermon, explained:

“We say ‘Ma tovu’ not despite the fact that it was intended to harm us, but because of that very fact. It is Jewish to find the benediction in the malediction, the good in the evil, the opportunity in the catastrophe. It is Jewish to make the best of the worst, to squeeze holiness out of profanity…There is some good in everything bad. The greatness of humanity consists of our ability to rescue that good and build upon it.”

Franz Rosenzweig (1886-1929) was one of the greatest Jewish philosophers of the 20^th century. An assimilated Jew who had decided to convert to Christianity, he changed his mind after being inspired by the Yom Kippur service in the Orthodox shul he attended to give Judaism one last chance. Rosenzweig was a Jew on a journey, and he was a fabulous speaker, writer, and teacher, who inspired many other Jews to explore their heritage more deeply.

In 1922, Rosenzweig became afflicted with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (later known as Lou Gehrig's disease). Towards the end of his life, he had to write with the help of his wife, Edith, who would recite letters of the alphabet until he indicated for her to stop, continuing until she could guess the word or phrase he intended. At other times, Rosenzweig would point to the letter on the plate of his typewriter. They also developed a communication system based on him blinking his eyes.  

Shortly after the onset of illness, Franz Rosenzweig wrote: “If I must be ill, I want to enjoy it. In a sense, these two months have been quite pleasant. For one thing, after a long spell, I got back to reading books.” Just before his death, he dictated: “I read, carry on business…and, all in all, enjoy life…”

In a meaningful coincidence, Lou Gehrig, who was afflicted with the same disease as Rosenzweig, had a similar ability to find the blessing within the curse. On July 4, 1939, Lou Gehrig Appreciation Day, the longtime Yankee first baseman uttered those immortal words: “For the past two weeks you have been reading about a bad break. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”

We invoke Ma tovu to remind ourselves that there is blessing within curse and light within darkness. We may go through life thinking this isn’t the case. Balaam’s “blessings,” as well as those heroes of the spirit who have themselves found this to be true, provide us with this important lesson.

The whole Balaam story is strange and unique in that the Jews had no idea of what was going on around them. They didn’t know Balaam was trying to curse them but couldn’t. They had no idea of what he experienced or said. If a tree falls in the forest and nobody is around, does it make a sound? Why include this episode on the Torah?

We need to be sensitive to the blessings around us. It is a deep and complicated lesson. It isn’t easy to find light in the darkness or a blessing within a curse. Not everyone can be a Rosenzweig or Gehrig.

“Ma tovu!” We begin our day striving to appreciate all the blessings we have and trying to inculcate within ourselves that we can face whatever comes our way that day and every day.

That’s pretty good.

Are We Really ALL Holy?

“Ki kol ha-eidah kulam kedoshim u-v’tocham Hashem – For the entire assembly is holy and God dwells within them.” (Bamidbar 16:3)

This statement is valid. Every Jew IS holy.

Yet, when Korach makes this claim, it is a rebellion against Moshe’s leadership. What’s wrong with Korach claiming all Jews are holy?

Korach believed that the Jews’ inherent holiness was not contingent upon anything. No matter what a Jew does, we retain our holiness. This gave Korach the license to oppose Moshe and suggest a course of action against God’s wishes. Korach was mistaken. We may wish it were true that Jews are all always holy, but Jews don’t always act in a way that reflects God being within us. 

This week, four Israelis were murdered by a Palestinian terrorist while eating lunch at a restaurant at the entrance to Eli. This is an all too frequent occurrence. We must feel the pain of their families. These Jews died al Kiddush Hashem, sanctifying God’s name, as they were killed because they were Jewish. They are Kedoshim.

That evening, a group of Israelis tore through several Palestinian towns setting cars and fields on fire, vandalizing homes and terrorizing residents in a grim repeat of an incident earlier this year. Is this the behavior of holy people? Can we say we are all holy when Jews can behave in this way?

Unfortunately, we encounter Jews behaving badly.

Often, in response, we will say or hear sentiments like there are inevitably some rotten apples, even good people make terrible decisions and act against their values, and anger and rage sometimes get the better of people. True, yet still not enough. Jews are all holy only if we live up to that holiness.

There is a humorous Chasidic story that highlights the importance of living our values and not just resting on our laurels or looking the part.

Mike (Elimelech) Tress was a successful businessman, who gave it all up to help rescue Jews during World War II. For the rest of his life, he devoted himself to helping his fellow Jews. He was greatly respected by all the Torah leaders of his time, including the Satmar Rebbe, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum. One of his chasidim was surprised at this and asked the Rebbe how he could show so much respect for an ordinary person? Mike was just a clean-shaven guy!

The Rebbe replied in Yiddish, “In the World to Come, when Mike Tress gets there, they will ask him, ‘Yid, Yid where is your beard?’ When you get there, they will ask, ‘Beard, beard, where is your Yid!’”

We need to live our values and model them to those around us. We can’t just rely on the fact that we’re holy because that isn’t a sure thing.

Korach selfishly wanted to lead. He felt that he was entitled to lead since everyone is holy. He was flat out wrong. Big bold pronouncements mean nothing without the actions that reflect such values. 

We aren’t all always holy. We need to STRIVE for holiness. If all our actions reflect this lofty goal, we can hope, please God, to get there.

Don't Look Down; Look Forward!

“Today, we will do something different.” With these words, a great sage stood up and led his disciples outside for a walk.

He led them to a deep ravine at the end of town. A narrow rope was stretched across the top of the ravine, and a huge crowd was gathered a short distance away. A tightrope walker holding a long balancing rod stepped off the rim of the ravine onto the rope and began to walk across. The crowd gasped in amazement as the tightrope walker made his way steadily along the quivering rope. When he finally reached the opposite rim of the ravine safely, the crowd responded with an audible sigh of relief and an enthusiastic round of applause.

The sage nodded gravely, turned around and started to walk away.

“Why did you bring us here today?” his disciples asked him. “What are we supposed to learn from the tightrope walker?”

“A very important lesson,” said the sage. “Walking a tightrope is a metaphor for life. Each of us is indeed walking a tightrope. Did you watch that tightrope walker? He was totally focused on what he was doing, and he was confident in his ability to do it. How did he do what he did? He never looked down; he only looked forward.”

It is natural to stop and look down. We succeed when we continue to look forward.

It’s an oft-told tale. Someone is on the roof of a tall building or crossing a rickety bridge, and then you hear someone say, “Don’t look down!” What happens next? The person looks down. The normal human reaction is to look down. Why is that?

One explanation is that we look down due to our negativity bias and threat detection systems. Our brains are looking for information in our environments that might be evidence of harm. When you hear the suggestion to not look down, you get a strong urge to look down and determine the nature of the threat. This happens in other situations. We rubberneck when we encounter a car accident, or we eavesdrop when we overhear an argument. Our brains are designed to prioritize negative information like this.

We look down when we should be looking ahead.

A few years ago, the late sage, Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, was asked: "What would you say is life's most important question?" Without skipping a beat, he replied: “V’az mah - And then what?”

Rav Steinsaltz explained: "You see, it's easy to fly into a passion. But what happens after the passion is gone? And then what? Our children become Bat and Bar mitzvah with great excitement. And what happens thereafter? Can they remain committed to Judaism when no one is celebrating them anymore? Weddings, nowadays, resemble Hollywood-style sound and light shows. And then what? Can our marriage continue to grow even when the sound of "here comes the bride" has been replaced with the sound of a baby crying? We graduate from school and celebrate our achievements with great pride? And then what? Can we continue to study with devotion, to live with passion and to do good with conviction?"

As we celebrate graduations this time of year, it is important to stop and celebrate all that the graduates have accomplished. They should all take pride in their many successes. At the same time, don’t only stop and look down. Look ahead and envision how much more there still is to achieve and conquer.

I am very fond of the story of an individual who attended a silent Quaker service. During the worship, he turned to an usher and asked, “When does the service begin?” The usher looked at him and said, “Sir, we believe that the real service begins when the service inside the sanctuary ends, and we all go live with our fellow human beings on the outside.”

V’az mah – And then what? What’s next for each of us to accomplish?

Congratulations to all the graduates! We’re proud of all you have accomplished so far. Each of us has accomplishments every day. The important thing to keep in mind is that when we finish, we are just getting started.

The Three Peace’s of Rabbi Hanina

“Gadol ha-shalom – Great is shalom!” (Tractate Derech Eretz Zuta) Judaism values shalom, which means…Peace, right? Well…

Rabbi Doron Perez notes that “peace” derives from the Roman word “pax” which is related to the word “appeasement.” The Hebrew word which comes closest to this is actually “payeis (פייס),” which means to calm or diffuse anger. Peace is a state of non-aggression where there is no war, no fighting, or no bad feelings. It refers to a situation where there is no confrontation, where the parties can live with each other in a state of non-aggression.

Shalom is much more than peace.

Shalom is wholeness, harmony, completion. This week, we read of the birkat kohanim, the priestly blessing, which ends with shalom. In seeking to understand shalom, we find three teachings of Rabbi Hanina S’gan Ha-Kohanim (the vie High Priest) which help us appreciate both the complexity and necessity of shalom.

First, in Masechet Berachot (64a), Rabbi Hanina teaches us who are the shalom-makers.

“Rabbi Elazar said in the name of Rabbi Hanina: Torah scholars increase shalom in the world.”

Rav Kook notes that it is strange to associate scholars with peace. Scholars argue! He explains that people mistakenly believe that peace means that everyone will share common viewpoints and think the same way. When they see scholars disagreeing, this appears to be the exact opposite of peace. Scholars, though, facilitate true shalom precisely through the proliferation of divergent views. Once all the various angles of an issue are exposed, that is true shalom. We need disagreement to be whole. Like an interlocking puzzle, all the views are needed to present a complete picture.

The path to shalom runs through disagreement, challenges, and even what may seem like an impossible vision. We see this in two additional, seemingly contradictory teachings of Rabbi Hanina.

In the Midrash, Rabbi Hanina says that the shalom of the birkat kohanim refers to shalom in the home, shalom bayit, domestic peace. Rabbi Natan says, it refers to the shalom of the monarchy of David, the rule of law and political peace. Rabbi Norman Lamm notes that, elsewhere, Rabbi Hanina seems to embrace Rabbi Natan’s view of shalom as political peace. In Avot 3:2, he teaches: “Pray for the peace of the realm, for if not for the fear of authority people would swallow each other alive.”

Which shalom does Rabbi Hanina prefer?

Rabbi Lamm notes that, of course, political peace and stability are great. At the same time, peace on earth isn’t the easiest or likeliest proposition. Rabbi Hanina teaches to never stop aspiring for political peace, but achievable shalom is found in the home. It is great to have visions of world peace – shalom al kol ha-olam, and we shouldn’t give up such lofty ideals. It is more fundamental to focus on shalom bayit – on stability, harmony, and tranquility within our small corner of the world.

Sometimes, focusing on the seemingly smaller task is more difficult. When we try to keep our own house in order, we encounter some of our shortcomings or the failings of those we love. We can be tempted to ignore the pain of these obstacles and, instead, turn our attention to loftier – even if unattainable – goals. Rabbi Hanina reminds us that shalom is complicated. It is full of complexity, divergence, even pain. World peace is easy to invoke as a dream. Our primary focus, however, needs to be the shalom of what’s right in front of us – our families and communities, flaws and all.

This week, the Belzer Rebbe directed his followers to establish an organization to support those who are discarding the Belzer way of life. This organization is meant to provide support and not try to convince those who left the community to come back. It is being started after a 23-year-old former Belzer chasid committed suicide due to severe emotional distress. According to sources close to the Rebbe, the young man's suicide sent shockwaves throughout the community and brought about the understanding that the disconnect between those who leave the community and their families is destructive and unacceptable.

"They studied in our schools throughout their lives; even though they decided not to keep Torah and its commandments, we must take care of them throughout and embrace them, without any conditions," one of the organization's founders was quoted as saying on Israel Army Radio.

This is a bold move. It is the right move. We can never hope to achieve shalom without caring for those in our bayit, our community. When family tests the limits of our patience or tolerance, it is easier to aspire for peace on earth rather than confront the different pieces and paths our fellows may choose. The three “peaces” of Rabbi Hanina remind us that shalom is complicated. Shalom on earth is a dream for which we aspire, hope, and pray. Shalom bayit, however, must be our primary focus.

Shalom is not easy. That’s probably why we say (Tehillim 29): Hashem oz l’amo yitein, Hashem yevareich et amo va’shalom. God should grant us strength, and that strength should help us find the blessing of shalom in all senses of the word.