A blessing, a curse, and a talking donkey

Balak

Numbers 22:2 - 25:9

Précis: Balak, the King of Moab, is fearful because of the success of the Israelites against other Canaanite peoples. He hires a local magician named Bilaam to place a curse upon the Israelites. Bilaam begins the journey riding upon his ass, which refuses to proceed and actually talks to Bilaam, protesting Bilaam’s foul treatment of the poor beast. Bilaam sees an image of an angel, and he refuses to complete Balak’s mission.  Balak reiterates his command to Bilaam to curse the Israelites, but instead Bilaam pronounces a blessing, frustrating Balak. The parasha ends with an interesting narrative episode: Pinchas, the grandson of Aaron, sees an Israelite having sexual relations with a Midianite woman (a violation of a commandment not to fraternize with the Canaanites), and he slays both of them and, in the process, staves off a plague that had been threatening the Israelites.

Numbers 24:5 “How fair are your tents, O Jacob, your dwellings, O Israel.”

             

The famous verse cited here is in the form of a blessing (or at least an expression of appreciation and wonder), even though Bilaam was charged by Balak to curse the people of Israel. This verse has become the introductory phrase to the daily morning prayers. The authors of the siddur took the Hebrew phrase “mah tovu” (“how fair”) and interpret the “tents” of the Israelites to be the synagogues and yeshivas of the Jewish People (BT Sanhedrin 105b). Its use as a prayer appears in our earliest siddurim, including the 9th century Seder Rav Amram Gaon, although its use was almost certainly a long established practice by that time.

           

I personally find it quite astonishing that we begin our daily devotions with a prayer composed by a non-Jew who had been hired to curse us.  And some say God has no sense of humor! Shabbat Shalom.

Remembering to say "thanks"

Chukat

Numbers 19:1 - 22:1 

Precis: The parasha begins with a discussion of the Red Heifer, used for ritual purification after one comes into contact with a dead body. The story then shifts to the death of Miriam, and the mourning by the entire people for her. Moses strikes a rock to provide water to the People. Soon thereafter, Aaron also dies, and the Israelites engage in warfare with the Canaanites in the series of battles which conclude the parasha.

Numbers 20:1-2 “The Israelites arrived in a body at the wilderness of Zin on the first new moon, and the people stayed at Kadesh. Miriam died there and was buried. The community was without water, and they joined against Moses and Aaron.”

Miriam is an interesting character. We first meet her in the very beginning of Shemot, as the silent unnamed observer of baby Moses in his basket. She is later called a prophetess, and leads the women in song and dance after the dangerous passage through the Red Sea. While she remains a significant character in the narrative, her role is hardly equal to that of her brothers Moses and Aaron. In recent decades, with the growth of Jewish feminism, there has been intensified interest in Miriam. The addition of Miriam’s Cup to the Seder plate reflects this growing appreciation of her role.

Our text here states simply that "Miriam died there and was buried. The community was without water."            

Rashi commented upon the connection between Miriam and water, stating that while Miriam lived, a miraculous well accompanied the people and they had water. When she died, the well disappeared.           

It is important, I think, to note that the text fails to make the connection between Miriam and the water “known” until after her death. All too often, the contributions of those who support the community are ignored until they are no longer around to help; those who quietly support our institutions (both women and men) are all too often ignored. While many leaders are praised and receive public thanks from their communities, the quiet volunteers who enable our congregations and communities to function effectively are too often taken for granted, their contributions overlooked.       

It’s worth considering whether we sufficiently honor those who do the tasks which keep us going. Miriam’s example of belated appreciation should serve as a reminder to stop and say “thanks” while we can.