|
 There
is a story in the Talmud about Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach
who lived during the second Temple period and was the
President of the Sanhedrin, the Rabbinic high court.
It
seems he bought a donkey from a non-Jewish fellow and
was riding back to Jerusalem when one of his students
found a rare and valuable gem in one of the saddlebags.
Halfway to Jerusalem , Rabbi Shimon, without thinking
twice, immediately turned the donkey around and headed
back to find the original owner of the donkey.
"But
you bought the donkey with the saddlebags!" exclaimed
one of his students. "Isn't anything found in them
rightfully yours?" "I paid for a donkey",
replied Rabbi Shimon, "I did not pay for such a
valuable gem."
After
journeying back to their point of origin and restoring
the priceless gem to its original owner, the non-Jew,
clearly overcome by Rabbi Shimon's integrity, exclaimed:
"Blessed is the G-d of Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach!"
.
The
first time I came across this story, I couldn't help
but be saddened by the fact that, despite the obvious
ethical excellence of Rabbi Shimon, his student, someone
who was blessed to be studying Torah with no less than
the great Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach, still wanted to
keep the gem, assuming it so naturally that he was actually
surprised that Rabbi Shimon wanted to return it.
I
remember, as a boy, hearing my Rebbe, Rabbi Shlomo Riskin,
relate one of the questions he used to ask when interviewing
prospective rebbe'im (rabbinic teachers) for his yeshiva
high school.
At
a certain point in the interview, amidst a flurry of
questions designed to test their knowledge of halachah
(Jewish law) and Talmud, he would ask them what they
would do (and what the halachic requirement would be),
if after sending away for an electric shaver, the company
accidentally sent back two shavers in the mail. He was
amazed to see how many young rabbis would actually respond
by delving into the question of whether, once the company
sent the extra shaver, they were giving it to you, and
whether the laws of theft applied equally to non- Jews.
Needless
to say, he was only interested in hiring the minority
of teachers who responded without thinking, that they
would send it back! .
Where
is the balance between spiritual development and our
quest to develop a deeper relationship with G- d on
the one hand, and the importance of ethical excellence
on the other? How can we ensure, not only in ourselves,
but in our children and students and those we love,
that spiritual growth does not come at the expense of
simple 'mentschlechkeit': the value of being
a good person? .
This
second part of this week's double portion, Balak
, gives us some valuable insight regarding this
question, from a most unlikely source.
Open
up any siddur (prayer book) and you will find, right
at the beginning, a beautiful poem, which reads as a
love sonnet to the Jewish people. Known as the 'Ma
Tovu' , which is traditionally recited as one enters
the synagogue.
"Ma
tovu' O'halecha Yaakov, Mishke'no'techa Yisrael...."
"How goodly are your tents, oh Yaakov; and your
dwelling places, oh Israel ...." .
Ask
any Jewish four-year-old child in any Hebrew school,
and he or she will most likely be able to sing the opening
words of the first stanza. Indeed, who has not heard
of the 'Ma tovu'? And yet, most people don't
realize the source of these beautiful verses. Three
thousand years ago, these words were recited by a non-Jewish
prophet, bent on cursing the Jewish people and seeing
their destruction, who G-d caused to bless and praise
them instead.
Fresh
from its successes on the battlefield against the armies
of Og and the Amorites (in the first portion
of this weeks double portion, Chukat ), the
Jewish people are about to encounter a new and perhaps
even more sinister challenge.
Balak
, the king of
Moab , realizes he can never defeat the Jewish people
on the battlefield; their G-d is just too strong. But
he has one card up his sleeve, and he approaches Bilaam,
a non-Jewish prophet, who, after a series of conversations
and initial hesitation, finally agrees to climb the
mountain overlooking the Jewish camp and curse the Jewish
people in the name of their own G-d. After all, reasons
Balak, if this people, blessed by G-d, becomes cursed
by G-d, then all their seemingly magical powers will
disappear, and the Moabite armies will make short work
of them.
The
whole idea seems ludicrous, and yet the Torah seems
to take this very seriously. At first, G-d does not
want to let Bilaam go, but after some persistence on
the part of Bilaam and Balak, G-d lets Bilaam go, on
the condition that he will only say what G-d tells him
to.
So
Bilaam travels to the mountain range of Emor, and climbs
to the mountaintop ready to curse the Jewish people.
Sacrifices are offered to G-d, the big moment arrives,
and it seems that the fate of the Jewish people hangs
in the balance; if somehow we are cursed by Bilaam,
that will spell doom, and the end of the great vision
of a Jewish people as a light unto the nations and an
ethical role model for the whole world.
Putting
aside for the moment how this could possibly be, G-d
performs a miracle and in the end, as Bilaam opens his
mouth to curse the Jews, beautiful words of blessing
and praise pour forth, and the Jewish people's destiny
as a blessed nation is sealed forever.
Interestingly,
Rashi quotes the Midrash (and many
other commentaries echo this idea) that there was something
G-d caused Bilaam to see that caused him to bless the
Jewish people. In other words, it wasn't that G-d just
spoke through Bilaam's vocal chords, because then it
wouldn't have been Bilaam blessing the Jewish people,
it would have been G-d. Rather, Bilaam saw something
that actually caused him to want to bless the Jewish
people all on his own.
And
what was this incredible sight that caused even an evil
prophet like Bilaam motivated by bribery (Balak was
willing to pay a huge sum of money for this curse) to
want to bless the Jews? What about the encampment
of the Jewish people was so beautiful, so magnificent,
that the sight of it filled you with such awe and appreciation
that you could not help but sing out blessings and praises?
Rashi
relates
that Bilaam noticed that amongst all the Jewish tents,
there was not one single tent opening that faced another
tent opening. In other words, no-one's tent opening
looked into anyone else's.
Now,
don't get me wrong; this is a wonderful thing. I remember
studying for the rabbinate and living in a tiny apartment
in a very small student housing apartment building,
appreciating the fact that no one else's window (often
just a few feet away) looked right into ours. Modesty
and valuing someone else's privacy is important, to
be sure, but is this what caused Bilaam to bless us?
And is this so important that it becomes the theme of
the beginning of our prayers every day?
At
first glance this seems like a fairly simple thing:
to notice that not one tent opening faced anyone else's,
but in considering this, it is worth noting that the
Torah tells us there were approximately 600,000 men
between the ages of twenty and sixty (the census for
the army) who left Egypt, and, depending on the average
size of the Jewish family at the time, and adding all
the people who were younger or older than this (military)
age, that means there were probably millions
of tents!
This
leaves us wondering how Bilaam could possibly look at
every tent, and be able to say that there was not a
single tent that faced another's opening? At 3,600 seconds
in an hour, and 86,400 seconds in a day, and approximately
two million six hundred thousand seconds in a month,
by the time Bilaam would have gotten around to blessing
(or cursing) them, the Jews would have already entered
Israel !
Unless
of course you think again: what is the easiest way to
ensure that there is not one tent- opening facing another?
(A circle would do it, but it would have been a circle
hundreds of miles in circumference....) The answer:
just have them all facing the same way. In other words,
what Bilaam saw from that mountaintop were simply rows
and rows of tents all facing the same direction, in
rows that must have stretched on for miles. Which means
they had to have a system when they encamped. And I
suppose this must have been a new phenomenon, to have
so impressed Bilaam.
I
remember, one of the first times we ever set up our
pup tents in an encampment in the army. The entire company
(about 150 fifty two-man pup tents) was making camp
for the night, and we received the order, at last, to
fall out and set up our tents.
We
were still raw recruits in basic infantry training,
so setting up the tents, pushing the stakes into the
soft sands of the dunes we were in, and tying the ropes
so the tents would stand straight was a comedy of errors,
especially as it was two o' clock in the morning and
freezing cold to boot.
We
finally got our tent to stand so that it wouldn't fall
on top of us (the stakes kept coming out of the sand),
after which came the challenge of trying to get out
of uniform and into a sleeping bag. These tents were
the length of a sleeping bag, and the width of about
two sleeping bags. You couldn't sit up straight and
there was barely enough room for one person to get undressed,
let alone two guys, but if you were caught sleeping
in your uniform, (which would have been the easiest
route, especially as we only had about four hours to
sleep) you could get in a lot of trouble.
Looking
back, I am sure he saw the mess we were making of it
all, but must have wanted us to learn a lesson, so he
waited; abut ten minutes after I had finally gotten
comfortable, (a term that must be used loosely under
the circumstances!) our company commander came to inspect
the tents and found them arrayed in complete chaos,
facing every which way, with not even a semblance of
discipline or order. (At two o' clock in the morning
who thinks about which direction your tent is facing?).
And
wouldn't you know it? As we scrambled out into the freezing
open air, with our pants and boots hurriedly thrown
on, amidst all the shouting, and tents falling over,
it started to rain ....
So it must have been a new phenomenon that an army,
indeed an entire nation took the time to set up their
tents facing a particular direction, to such an extent
that it was visible to the naked eye from a distant
mountaintop.
And
perhaps this is why we recite these verses when we enter
our synagogues, because three thousand years ago, a
people entered the scene with a different set of priorities.
And whenever they laid camp, they actually had a system
designed to ensure that no one person's privacy was
compromised at the expense of another. It must have
taken some thought, to set this up; millions of tents
all facing the same direction (most probably by tribes,
three on each side of a large square....). Maybe they
set flags up when they encamped, and everybody faced
the flags, but whatever the specifics, they had a system
that took every individual's feelings and respect into
account, and this came before anything else.
It
is easy, when entering shul (synagogue) to
become so focused on the awesome challenge of developing
our relationship with G-d, that we forget the person
sitting right next to us. And it is equally understandable,
with all the prayers in our hearts for ourselves and
our loved ones, to forget what it is really all about.
But a careful look at the beginning of the Jewish prayer
book will make abundantly clear Judaism's focus on our
relationships with our fellow human beings.
The
Talmud tells us that the second Temple (the Beit HaMikdash)
was destroyed through blind, wanton hatred, or sinat
chinam . It is difficult to understand how any
hatred can ever be chinam , which seems to
mean 'for no reason at all'.
The
Netziv (Rav Naftali Tzvi
Yehuda Berlin , the Rosh yeshiva of Volozhin
in the nineteenth century in Lithuania ) suggests that
this wanton hatred refers to disliking or even detesting
someone because their views are different from yours,
even if you know (or believe you know) that their viewpoint
is wrong. This becomes critical because Rav
Kook suggests that if the Temple was destroyed
through sinat chinam then it will only be
rebuilt through ahavat chinam , or wanton,
baseless love. And this may mean that the secret to
a better world and all that we dream of is simply learning
to see the common ground and the beauty in someone else's
viewpoint and perspective, however different it may
be from our own.
And
so it is Bilaam, the most unlikely of sources, a non-Jew
who seems to detest all that we stand for, who is given
the opportunity to see things in an entirely different
way.
And
maybe this is why we do not traditionally recite the
Ma Tovu , at home in private prayer, but rather
when we enter the synagogue and join the community.
The
Torah does not really tell us where we can find G- d,
but it does tell us that every human being is created
in the image of G-d. Allegorically, there is a little
piece of G-d inside every human being, Jew or Muslim,
Christian or Buddhist, even friend or foe. And if we
cannot see the little piece of G-d inside the person
standing next to us, we will have a hard time finding
G-d anywhere at all.
Shabbat
Shalom,
Rav
Binny Freedman
|
