This Shabbat we study the Parshah Balak, referring to Balak, king of Moab (Numbers 22:2). Balak summons the prophet Balaam to curse the people of Israel. On the way, Balaam is berated by his donkey, who sees, before Balaam does, the angel of G-d sent to block their way. Three times, from three different vantage points, Balaam attempts to pronounce his curses; each time, blessings issue forth instead. Balaam also prophesies on the end of the days and the coming of Moshiach.

The people fall prey to the charms of the daughters of Moab, and are enticed to worship the idol Peor. When a high-ranking Israelite official publicly takes a Midianite princess into a tent, Pinchas kills them both, stopping a plague raging among the people.

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Chabad.org

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Balak, king of Moab, sees the legions of Israel approach his borders, and in fright calls upon Balaam to curse and thus destroy Israel. However, instead of cursing, Balaam praises Israel with words incorporated into the daily prayers - "How goodly are your tents O Jacob, your dwelling-places O Israel." What did he mean, and do we mean the same thing when we repeat his words in prayers?

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The blessing of Balaam can be a curse, because his paeans of praise may be the antithesis of Israel's spirit. The tone of Judaism is growth, constant advance in the realm of the spirit, in Torah learning, in development of character. Self-satisfaction, contentment with past achievements - these lead to stagnation.

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The goodliness of Jacob's tents is to be held up as a goal, an incentive. In spiritual affairs (if not necessarily in material strivings) a goal achieved gives one a higher vantage point to see more enticing horizons ahead. The higher the attainment the greater the awareness of the task uncompleted, the profounder the appreciation of the challenge still faced.

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Balaam was telling Israel they were good enough already, no need to be any better. He wished to vitiate Israel's urge to strive, to make the Jew content with what he is so that he will never progress. And the soul, Balaam knew well, never stands still. We are not the same today as yesterday. Either we go up, or we inevitably go down. Balaam wanted Israel to believe they had reached the summit, they may rest; his intentions were that by ceasing to go forward Israel would fall.

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Rabbi Zalman Posner

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Due to the limitations of your reality, some of your best friends can enter only incognito.

In fact, the really big ones sometimes sneak in disguised as ugly monsters and vicious enemies. Otherwise, the guards at the gate would never permit them entry. These are the events optimists call “blessings in disguise.”

Here’s how to fire the guards: Expand your mind, expand your world and sincerely rejoice in whatever G-d sends you. Then the blessings will be free to enter in all their glory.

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Rabbi Tzvi Freeman

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In this week’s portion, Balak, we read how the wicked Balaam sets out to curse the Jews, but in the end, G-d has him bless them instead. Balaam goes on to foretell the coming of Moshiach. Why was the prophecy of Moshiach’s coming voiced by a wicked, Jew-hating person like Balaam? This is truly a testament to the power of the soul—the G-d-given ability to transform even the darkest of places, the darkest of situations, to see goodness. We have the ability and the obligation to shine light and transform even the lowest areas of life to holiness. What’s more, G-d puts us in these dark situations and gives us the power to transform them. And when you lift from the bottom, you lift up the whole thing. That is the message found in the fact that the prophecy of Moshiach comes to use from Balaam in the portion of Balak. Even a Balaam is changed to say Moshiach’s prophecy. 

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From an article by Rabbi Yitzi Hurwitz

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Growing up, my father often brought unusual guests to our Shabbat table. My sisters and I referred to one of these guests as “Mr. Mna Mna.” He would guzzle down my mother’s delicacies spilling some on our pristine, white table cloth. When the piping hot chicken soup was served, he’d slurp making loud “mna, mna” noises—and thus our nickname. I don’t remember my father hearing us call “Mr. Mna Mna” by this name; he wouldn’t have been pleased. But I do remember my father according him the greatest respect, sitting him at his side and kindly offering him food first. As a child, I wondered if my father hadn’t noticed the man’s strange behavior but I couldn’t believe that he hadn’t smelled his foul body odor.

No matter, week after week, Mr. Mna Mna returned.  

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As I grew older, I became aware that Mr. Mna Mna was not unique to my family. Look around and you will see Mr. and Mrs. Mna Mnas in Jewish communities the world over. They are invited for a nourishing meal, given fresh clothing or just a listening ear—whatever kindness the hour calls for. I have a friend with a big heart who lives in a small house. She is constantly rearranging her (willing!) children, moving them out of their bedrooms to sleep the lonely souls that end up on her doorstep. Another friend, a successful business woman, clears her calendar once a week to visit lonely elders. She says she does it for herself; that it brings her joy. Another friend is training for a marathon to raise money for children with terminal illness, while another, a working mother, spends her Sundays at a center for special needs children.

None of them consider their actions special.

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We often notice—and focus on—the faults in our communities. This is important because in order to improve, we cannot be blind to our culpabilities. But it is also worthwhile to acknowledge all the good that is being done—all the hearts that are so big, all the kindness that abounds.

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Ever ask someone who returned to their Jewish heritage what motivated them? Rather than deep philosophical and theological responses, I’ve often heard about simple to goodness deeds. Witnessing the love, care, and deep pockets of a Jewish community made them want to be a part of whatever religion and peoplehood was causing this.

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In this week’s Torah portion, Balak, the king of Moab, summons the Jew-hating prophet, Balaam to curse the people of Israel. Instead, he ends up extolling their virtues, among which he declares: “For from their beginning, I see them as mountain peaks, and I behold them as hills…How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel!”

Indeed! Wishing you all a week exploding with kindness!

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Chana Weisberg

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