Balak: God Already Knows the Answer… Do You?

I like questions a lot. If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, I have to believe that statement doesn’t come as a surprise to you AT ALL. At the Passover Seder, I always like to spend the most amount of time on the questions in the Haggadah… as well as the ones NOT in the text, but which we, ourselves, might ask. Introspection (asking questions of oneself…) is always a central theme for me during the High Holidays, and whenever I see questions in the Torah text (or have questions of my own *for* the Torah…), I light up! And sometimes the very best questions in the Bible are not, in fact, asked by humans at all. As an aside - and a reward for you blog-readers - I will offer a hint that you might hear more about these Divine Questions in this year’s High Holiday services… There is something really special about the moments when God asks a question - ANY question - in the Torah, for one, obvious reason: Doesn’t God, being Omnipotent, already know the answer?

This week, the question I wanted to focus on is also unique, because it’s not being posed to one of our ancestors, or indeed to any Israelite or even an ally of our forbearers! Our parashah is entirely depicted from the perspective of Balak, the king of the Moabites, who reaches out to a non-Israelite prophet, Bilaam, to curse the Israelites on his behalf. Theologically speaking, it always fascinates me that God intervenes at all, because I wouldn’t have thought that the curse of an idolatrous prophet would be something God (or we) would worry about at all! Nevertheless, God shows up in this story, and questions Bilaam about his intentions regarding Balak and his emissaries. In one of their first little tête-à-têtes, we find the question that peaked my interest: “God came to Bilaam and said, ‘What do these people want of you?’” (Num. 22:9) How puzzling, don’t you think, that God wouldn’t know why these emissaries of Moab and Midian have come to Bilaam?? Gosh, and here I thought God was omniscient and all…

As with so many of these wonderful, Divine, often-rhetorical questions, I firmly believe that God already knows the answer. So what, then, is the purpose of asking it in the first place?? Wouldn’t it make more sense for God to say to Bilaam (assuming our God and Bilaam talk at all, which I’ve still not gotten over…), “Don’t speak! I know what you’re going to ask me… and the answer is ‘NO!!’” In my estimation, there’s actually more going on here. God is showing us - here and in several other no-brainer questions - that the real work has to happen inside us. GENUINE learning comes from within, not from an external source. The best teachers know that lecturing from the front of the room only ever gets you so far. If you can provoke students to think critically, challenge assumptions, and draw their own conclusions, that learning may prove to “stick” in their brains a whole lot better. God is modeling that for us, throughout the Tanach.

In Bilaam’s case, God may be curious to see how much the prophet is willing to disclose about why these men are approaching him: “Why do *you*, Bilaam, think they are here… and how do you feel about that?” Every person has a unique and individual perspective, so asking several individuals what they heard, what they understood, and what they think should happen next, may often yield vastly different answers and opinions. So God wants to know, what does Bilaam think is being asked of him, and does he understand the ramifications of cursing an entire people on their behalf? In the end, I feel strongly that God is challenging us to take ownership of our lives and our experiences. Don’t sleep-walk through life and do what’s expected of you or what is comfortable/easy, when you can achieve *so much* more by being active, alert, curious, and interested! We should be pushing ourselves to make a positive impact on the world, and on the people around us, by asking ourselves good and tough questions on a regular basis. And I guess the Torah is cautioning us; if you don’t ask yourselves those questions, God may just show up and ask them of you. What then??

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. geralt on Pixabay
2. George Parilla on Flickr
3. Conmongt on Pixabay
4. Barry Schwartz on Flickr

Chukat: You. Shall Not. Pass.

It’s an all-too-familiar story for us as Jews. If you listed countries that have treated us well consistently vs. those that have viewed us with skepticism, suspicion, and distrust - or worse; fear and hatred that led to violence - it would be a bleak picture. We often see our Jewish story as that of a nomadic people, but rarely has it allowed us to fly under the radar, avoid attacks, or remain undisturbed. WAY more often in our history, we have been immigrants, foreigners, and The Other… and it’s come with persecution and oppression. Obviously, this isn’t a very rosy picture, and it’s not one I enjoy lingering on. However, we can’t really ever hope to change our own narrative if we don’t first *see* it! So when our Torah portion this week provides an ancient example of this same treatment, I’m not suggesting it’s a “fun” episode to highlight. But I think taking the time to acknowledge how unpleasant yet disturbingly familiar it is, and how intrinsic it has been to our millennia-long history as Jews, can help us both strive for a better future for ourselves AND make us more sympathetic and caring for the plight of others.

Right now, we’re in the Book of Numbers. Parashat Chukat places us in the fortieth year of the Exodus, and the Israelites are getting both very good at, and very sick of, wandering. In chapter 20, we read: 

“Moses sent messengers to the king of Edom: ‘Thus says your brother, Israel: You know all the         hardships that have befallen us, that our ancestors went down to Egypt, that we dwelt in Egypt a long time, and that the Egyptians dealt harshly with us and our ancestors… Now we are in Kadesh, the town on the border of your territory. Allow us, then, to cross your country. We will not pass through fields or vineyards, and we will not drink water from wells…’” (14-17)

Any guesses how the king of Edom replied? I doubt this next verse will surprise you at all: “But Edom answered him, ‘You shall not pass through us, else we will go out against you with the sword.’” (18) A couple of verses later, Edom repeats its threat and even backs it up by approaching the Israelites armed. And the whole time I am wondering to myself: Why? They don’t explain their refusal to grant safe passage, and they don’t justify their antagonism. But then again, would an explanation have made me feel any better about it? Probably not.

And honestly, I know why the Edomites are hostile: Fear, distrust, suspicion, assumption of bad intent, and more! It’s just hard to look at, and to admit that this has been the response to us as Jews for millennia and all across the globe. But let us also remember how resilient we became, and remained, likely BECAUSE we were so unwanted. It has actually been a tremendous source of strength for the Jewish people to handle rejection and animosity, to build and rebuild as necessary, and to accept - and even embrace! - our nomadic predisposition. So while we may read this with sadness and despair (because neighbors have treated us this way for eons), I also think we should marvel at our ability to just keep on marching. If one border was closed, we just move on to the next one. And for all their bluster, you don’t see a lot of Edomites around today, now do you? Food for thought… 

CC images in this blog post, courtesy of:
1. Noborder Network on Flickr
2. Microsoft Corporation
3. SilviaP_Design on Pixabay
4. damian entwistle on Flickr