A Thought on Parshas Balak

"...va'yiftach HaShem es pi ha'ason..." (22:28) "...and HaShem opened the mouth of the donkey..." This week we study the puzzling passage of the sorcerer Bilaam, who experienced at least four vision-encounters from HaShem. Perhaps the best known of those experiences is the episode of the donkey that talked to Bilaam. Chazal tell us that the creation of 'the mouth of the donkey' took place early on in the saga of genesis, so important was its role in the story of our people and in the story of humanity itself. It appears as if the conversation between Bilaam and his donkey was brief. It is a matter of debate between our Sages as to how long the animal survived after that interaction. It is also a debate between the Sages as to whether Bilaam alone heard the voice of his beast (something that a sorcerer is more likely to experience) or whether the entourage of Balak also heard that communication. Ibn Shu'aib cites both views in an effort to work through the meaning of the passage. He begins by opining that the Divine message behind the granting of speech to the donkey was like this: HaShem is the One Who grants speech and hearing (Shmos 3:11), giving and removing both as He wishes. It is a remarkable veering from 'teva' - 'nature' - that HaShem would give the faculty of speech to an animal, yet His message to Bilaam was that 'just as I can implant speech, so do I determine what and who can communicate at all times'. This was to signify to Bilaam the futility of his quest to curse the Blessed Nation. Only HaShem determines outcomes. So, according to this approach, the only one who needed to experience the speech of the donkey was Bilaam himself. His 'prophetic vision' was to sober him, not to crown him with an aura of superiority. Thus, reasons ibn Shu'aib, Bilaam was not going to share his encounter with anyone else. It was nothing to brag about that HaShem had granted him a supernatural encounter as a means of deflating his plans to curse the Jews. In fact, he would have been humiliated to share with the Balak cartel that he had heard a donkey talk, and had been warned by it to keep quiet. According to that approach, the implication of the next verse (22:29) that the donkey died after this, takes on a different meaning. The verse means that HaShem saw to it that the beast reverted to its 'animal state', meaning that it lost its enhanced status as a speaker. The power of speech is a life enhancement (see Berishis 2:7). The donkey's 'death' meant that it's higher faculty was no longer present, which is a relative death, or loss of a life quality. Now, the other view holds that not only Bilaam but all of his entourage heard the donkey speak. This approach considers that the entire group witnessed the event because they also sought some form of mystical encounter, whether Divine (in their perception) or whether occult. But they did hear the animal talk to Bilaam. Whether or not its message led them to disparage Bilaam or whether it served to sober them at that supernatural moment and to leave them in awe of a higher reality, the group was more focused on the mystical phenomenon than on its impact on the now-humiliated Bilaam. Why did the donkey then die? According to this approach, it's death was a Divine intervention. Not only had its moment and purpose in creation come, and gone, but the risk was now present that the occult-seeking group would deify the beast. Its demise prevented such idolatry from occurring (compare how Chazal relate how last week's copper snakes were later misperceived by Jews as having some supernatural power which needed to be revered, leading King Chezkiah to destroy them). The donkey had fulfilled its purpose in creation and could not now deflect humanity onto a deviant tangent of believing in any force, energy or power other than HaShem. Good Shabbos. D Fox

A Thought on Parshas Chukas

A Thought On Parshas Chukas A Thought On Parshas Chukas Our parsha introduces the perplexing paradox of the parah adumah. The Torah teaches us that there is a remedy for some forms of contracted impurity which require a ritual, central to which are the ashes of the red heifer. The perplexing part is that application of those ashes in a specific formula will remove impurity, yet the one who processes that mixture will contract impurity through contact with its ingredients. So, as our sages put it, 'it cleanses the impure ones and contaminates the pure ones.' There is another puzzle in our parsha. Following the incident of the serpents in the desert, where many people were bitten and affected by lethal venom, Moshe is told to construct copper snakes and to raise them on a pole. (Anyone who has ever looked at the symbol used by Medical Associations will see an image of those snakes on a pole, which has come to represent in the minds of many the idea that mortals can heal). Those who were infected by the venom would look at those metal statues and be healed. Those who did not look up at them would die. Our sages hasten to point out that the healing was not emanating from the snakes, but rather, those who looked up at HaShem and turned their eyes to Him could be healed. Those who looked at their injuries as purely natural and failed to see a Divine hand in them, went the course of their illness and died. Addressing these two matters, Ibn Shu'aib ponders. Whatever the mystery of the parah adumah is, granted that our sages say that it is beyond our comprehension, what are we to derive from the process at an inspirational level? Whatever the mystery of those "healing snakes" is, granted that our sages say that the healing had nothing to do with those actual snake statues, what are we to derive from the fact that the snake was chosen as the emblem for directing people's attention above? So ibn Shu'aib observes that there is a relationship between the two topics. He begins with a review of how in Eden, the Snake represented temptation, and how temptation (yetzer ha'ra) has its place in the world: without it we do not create, we do not build, we do not initiate and we do not drive and motivate ourselves at many levels. We can also "give in" to those energies and drives and live a greedy, immoral, selfish and exploitative life. Yet, the reality is that the passion and temptation are given to us in order to redirect those energies - the procreative, the creative, the aggressive - in order to enhance humanity by living by HaShem's instructions. Can't live with it alone, but cannot live without it. The paradoxical properties of the parah adumah teach us that in this life, everything can be utilized and reconstituted in the pursuit of purity. We can derive this from seeing how a contaminating source can actually be drawn on to generate purity. The concept of the snake figures is similar: it is absolutely true that it is HaShem, and not those snakes, Who brings about healing. Why are the snakes needed as an intermediate symbol? The explanation here, says Ibn Shu'aib, is that we must look up to the Heavens and also look at our own "inner snakes": we can make the mistake of viewing our challenges and struggles as being beyond our control, as if they have a life of their own and are an external force; or better, we can accept that our internal struggles are meant to be understood and mastered. We are meant to fuel our holier and purer strivings with the energies of passion, whether in our thoughts, our emotions or our physical sensations. We do this by "partnering" our selves, our struggles and Shomayim. The parah adumah process and the snake process are there to inspire us that we can turn ourselves around, we can grow through what we have inside, and that even those most vile and base elements of character can be reshuffled in the pursuit of living a better existence. Snakes alive! Good Shabbos from Jerusalem, where this parsha was read last week. D Fox

A Thought on Parshas Korach

"...porach mateh Aharon..va'yotzaei perach v'yotzetz tzitz v'yigmol she'kaidim..." "...Aharon's staff had blossomed, gave forth leaves, produced blossoms and ripened almonds..." (17:22) Aharon was a holy figure and HaShem caused a miraculous sign to appear in order to signify his role of importance. The people saw that his staff began to blossom. What are the lessons to be learned from his staff? ibn Shu'aib brings some midrashim which are unknown to us. The blossoming is mentioned twice in the verse. One teaches us that the first blossom sprang forth, wilted and eventually withered away as it was replaced with an almond. This is what happens to tree blossoms. The second one teaches us that when Aharon's staff was later hidden away (as were other implements which had been the object of miracles in the desert), the staff, its blossom, and the subsequent almond remained intact and endured forever. The next lesson is about the staff itself. An almond wood branch must be uprooted in order to be formed into a staff or walking stick. When that happens, its sap dries and the wood becomes stark and lifeless. It is clear that a miracle happened with Aharon's stick, since it continued to thrive and to produce blossoming fruit. This why Yirmiahu the prophet(1:11) was shown a vision of a blossoming almond branch. It symbolized the revival of the Jewish people, who would once again become fertile and productive. A hewn branch cannot do that, but Aharon's branch did exactly that, to herald that miracles can happen, and will happen to the Jewish nation. A blossom is a perach in Hebrew. The blossoming of Aharon's staff was to signify that he was a holy person deserving of miracles, and this helped reinstate him in the public eye, following the challenges he and the kohanim faced during the Korach uprising. (The blossoms themselves may even hint at why Chazal refer to young kohanim as "pirchei Kahuna"!). The reference to growing tzitz - leaves - alludes to how Aharon and the later kohanim gedolim wore a tzitz nezer ha'kodesh (Shmos 39:30) as they performed the Temple avoda. The word for almond, sha'ked, alludes to how the Leviim were designated by HaShem (the word can also mean to be devotedly diligent) and verified that the institutions of both Kahuna and Levi were HaShem's will, not a nepotistic choice of Aharon. Why does the verse place the blossom before the leaves, contrary to the botanical sequence? This is to reflect how the rank and file kohanim were already engaged in the avoda before the post of Kohen Gadol was inaugurated. ibn Shu'aib's midrash continues: just as with regular almonds, the ones which blossomed on Aharon's staff included sweet ones and bitter ones. The sweet ones were on the right and the bitter on the left. When the Jewish people were fulfilling HaShem's will, the sweet almonds became moist. When we transgressed HaShem's will, the sweet ones withered and the bitter ones moistened. This echoed the miracle of the Keruvim, which changed formation and poise depending on the deeds of our nation. Another lesson of the sweet and bitter almonds was to portray how HaShem too is "Sho'ked" - is devoted at times to sweet rachamim and at times to bitter din. Lastly, when our verse says "va'yotzaei perach", it is a reference to the First Bais HaMikdash. When it says "va'yotzetz tzitz", it refers to the Second Mikdash. When it then says, "va'yigmol she'kaidim", it refers to the Third Temple which is awaiting us as long as we shok'dim - set on awaiting its arrival. I am sending this early because I am leaving for Jerusalem. Good Shabbos. D Fox