Parashat Balak - Fourth Aliyah
Read the biblical text and try to understand it on your own, before reading the commentary.
Tense background, taut anticipation: here comes the moment Balak has been waiting for. Bilam, the prophet and sorcerer with heavenly connections, is about to curse Israel. The preparations are impressive: seven altars, seven bulls, seven rams. Offering after offering, an elaborate ritual designed to try to “bend” the will of heaven.
Balak accompanies Bilam to “Bamot Ba’al,” a strategic peak from which one can see “the edge of the people.” Bilam goes off to speak with God, and the divine presence appears to him: “Vayasem Adonai davar befi Vilam” (And Adonai placed a word in the mouth of Bilam, verse 23:5). It is not Bilam who speaks, but the Holy One who speaks through his mouth.
Then comes the parable, a lofty prophetic song: “Hen am levadad yishkon uvagoyim lo yitchashav” (Behold, a people that dwells alone, and among the nations is not reckoned, verse 23:9). Israel is no longer a mere gathering of nomads. This is an independent people, set apart, not measured by the yardsticks of the nations.
Bilam, who came to curse, pours out a blessing song: “Tamot nafshi mot yesharim utehi acharití kamohu” (Let my soul die the death of the upright, and let my end be like his, verse 23:10). How astonishing: the prophet of Moav wants to die like a Jew. Not to live like a Jew, but to end that way. This is a deep reflection of an approach to life that wants the reward without the existence, the end without the commitment.
Balak, of course, erupts: “Meh asita li lakov oyvai lekachticha vehineh berachta varech” (What have you done to me? I took you to curse my enemies, and behold, you have blessed instead, verse 23:11). But Bilam answers simply: “Et asher yasim Adonai befi oto eshmor ledaber” (That which Adonai places in my mouth, that I will take care to speak, verse 23:12). The truth, it turns out, breaks through even from lips intended for malice.
The central idea here echoes in every generation. True blessing is not controlled by politics, intrigue, or external power. There is a blessing rooted in identity, in the will of God, and in the simple fact that this people dwells alone.
And this is a mighty message for our time. Who are we, really? Do we live from pride in our identity, or do we try to “be reckoned among the nations”? Bilam, a man of the nations, is stirred, and we at times try to blend in. Perhaps the time has come to return and remember: the blessing is within us.
More Questions on the Parsha
Why does the beauty of Israel reveal itself precisely through the eyes of an enemy?
One of the most beautiful sentences ever said about the people of Israel was not said by Moshe Rabbenu or by Aharon, but by Bilam, a man hired to curse. Parashat Balak uncovers a striking truth: there is beauty that a friend sees because he wants to see it, and there is beauty that an enemy is forced to see even when he tries to deny it. The second kind is stronger.
The verb 'vayar' (and he saw) repeats many times in Parashat Balak - what are the hidden meanings behind it?
In Parashat Balak the root 'to see' is not a technical act of seeing. It becomes a test: who truly sees, and what is he capable of seeing. Balak sees fear, the donkey sees an angel, Bilam at first sees nothing, and Pinchas sees and immediately rises. Four different kinds of seeing, four different kinds of soul.
What did Bilam really see in the camp of Israel that made him say a blessing instead of a curse?
The Torah does not say that Bilam only saw beautiful tents from the outside. It says that he saw an inner order. He was searching for a point of division, and found a camp with borders, families, tribes and identity. Bilam came to curse a crowd from the outside, and discovered from within a people that has form.
Does Parashat Balak teach that a person can be surrounded by enemies, and not know at all how much protection is over him from above?
Bilam climbs the mountain to curse, Moav is afraid, messengers are sent, and all that time the people of Israel below do not even know what is happening. Parashat Balak opens a window into what is behind the scenes: there is protection a person does not see, does not hear, and does not know to give thanks for in real time.