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MidrashThe Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit
Midrash
Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion
PARASHAT BALAK
By Rav David Silverberg
We read in Parashat Balak of the angel that appeared as Bilam made his way to Moav to place a curse upon Benei Yisrael. On three occasions, the angel, which was visible to Bilam's donkey but not to the seer himself, obstructed the donkey's path. On the first occasion, the donkey steered off the road into the fields to circumvent the angel, and Bilam responded by beating the donkey (22:23). The Midrash (Bamidbar Rabba 20:11) comments on this episode, "This wicked man goes to curse an entire nation that committed no sin against him, and he beats his donkey so that it would not walk in a field?" For what precisely does the Midrash criticize Bilam in this passage?
Rav Menachem Benzion Zaks, in his work Menachem Tziyon, suggests that the Midrash refers here to the hypocritical tendency of many public figures to conduct themselves with scrupulous integrity in their private lives, while displaying no sensitivity at all in determining public policy. As a private citizen traveling with his donkey, Bilam exercised extreme care to protect the property of others and not cause damage. As a public figure, however, he was prepared to destroy an entire nation of innocent people. People in government bureaucracy are very often detached from the bottom-line effects of the policies they endorse and implement. They draft laws and reach decisions in government offices based on paperwork and statistical data, without taking into account the personal ramifications for individual citizens. It can thus happen that officials who are sensitive and caring in their frontal dealings with people show little compassion when determining public policy. Bilam the private citizen was caring and compassionate, but as a public figure he was cruel and heartless.
We might suggest a simpler understanding of this Midrash. In Sefer Devarim (23:5), Moshe recalls the incident of Bilam and tells of how Moav "hired Bilam." The Rambam, in his commentary to Avot (5:19), cites this verse as evidence of Bilam's lust for wealth. He accepted this job purely for the money Balak promised to pay him, and for this reason Moshe emphasized that Moav "hired" Bilam to place a curse upon Benei Yisrael. If so, then we can perhaps suggest a simple explanation of the Midrash's condemnation of Bilam. He beat his donkey to prevent it from trampling on or grazing in the property of other people, yet he was prepared to destroy an entire nation for a profit. It is to this kind of hypocrisy that the Midrash refers. Bilam would never actually commit theft, he would never as much as trespass in other people's property, but on the professional level he was prepared to do much worse.
This phenomenon is, sadly enough, not all that uncommon. Many people abide by different standards in their personal and professional lives. While they would never consider burglarizing homes or forcibly stealing property, within the context of the cut-throat competition of the workplace they are prepared to speak dishonestly and intentionally mislead other people to make a profit. The Midrash reminds us that respect for other people's property applies in professional life, as well. Just as one respects the property of his neighbors and friends, so must he show concern for the property and assets of his clients, associates, employers and employees, and maintain the same ethical standards at work as he does in his personal life.
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We read in Parashat Balak that as Bilam makes his way to Moav to curse Benei Yisrael, his donkey beholds an angel obstructing his path, and three times it steers off the road or crouches beneath Bilam to avoid the angel. In each instance, Bilam beats the donkey. When the angel finally reveals itself to Bilam, it asks, "Wherefore have you beaten your donkey, already three times?" (22:32).
The Rambam, in his Guide for the Perplexed (3:17), cites this
verse as the origin of the halakha known as tza'ar ba'alei chayim,
forbidding the mistreatment of animals: "There is a rule laid down by our Sages
that it is directly prohibited in the Law to cause pain to an animal, and is
based on the words: 'Wherefore have you beaten your donkey…'" Several writers have noted the seeming
contradiction between this passage in the Guide and the Rambam's comments in Hilkhot
Rotzei'ach (13:9), in the context of the obligation to help one's fellow unload
the cargo from his animal, which imply that concern for the well-being of
animals is but a rabbinic obligation.
Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky, in his Emet Le-Yaakov, suggests a distinction between a
prohibition against causing pain to animals, and going out of one's way to
assist an animal in distress. The
Rambam points to the incident of Bilam and his donkey as the source of the Torah
law, which thus likely pertains only to actively causing an animal pain or
discomfort – such as in the story of Bilam. From this verse we cannot necessarily
derive an obligation to go out of one's way to help an animal, as one is
obligated to do for one's fellow human being. When the Rambam speaks of tza'ar ba'alei chayim as a rabbinic obligation, he refers to this
additional level of kind treatment, which was legislated by Chazal and does not constitute a Torah
obligation.
This distinction might very well accommodate the philosophical background
to the Rambam's discussion in the Guide.
This comment regarding tza'ar ba'alei chayim appears amidst the Rambam's presentation of
his view of divine providence. He
writes:
In the lower or sublunary portion of the
Universe Divine Providence does not extend to the individual members of species
except in the case of mankind. It
is only in this species that the incidents in the existence of the individual
beings, their good and evil fortunes, are the result of justice… For I do not
believe that it is through the interference of Divine Providence that a certain
leaf drops, nor do I hold that when a certain spider catches a certain fly, that
this is the direct result of a special decree and will of God in that moment; it
is not by a particular Divine decree that the spittle of a certain person moved,
fell on a certain gnat in a certain place, and killed it; nor is it by the
direct will of God that a certain fish catches and swallows a certain worm on
the surface of the water. In all
these cases the action is, according to my opinion, entirely due to chance, as
taught by Aristotle.
It is a bit later in this discussion where
the Rambam addresses the Torah prohibition of tza'ar ba'alei chayim, which, at first glance, appears to prove
God's care and concern for individual animals, on account of which He demands
that they be treated kindly. The
Rambam responds by explaining this law as intended to prevent the individual
from developing a cruel character, rather than as a reflection of God's
supervision over and care for individual animals:
But the object of this rule is to make us
perfect; that we should not assume cruel habits; and that we should not
uselessly cause pain to others; that, on the contrary, we should be prepared to
show pity and mercy to all living creatures, except when necessity demands the
contrary.
If so, then it seems reasonable to assume
that the Torah merely forbade mistreating animals, and did not obligate
proactive kindness towards animals.
Had the law of tza'ar
ba'alei chayim stemmed from God's
concern for the well-being of every creature, then He would have likely demanded
that we treat animals with the same degree of concern that we must show human
beings. But since tza'ar ba'alei chayim stems from the concern that we do not
develop the negative qualities of cruelty and insensitivity, it perhaps suffices
merely to avoid mistreatment.
Chazal, however, felt it appropriate to extend
this concept to require proactive kindness towards animals, as well, perhaps to
encourage even higher standards of kindness and compassion in our dealings with
human beings.
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In Bilam's first blessing to Benei Yisrael, he exclaims, "Who can count the dust
[literally, 'earth'] of Yaakov!" (23:10).
Rashi, citing from the Midrash Tanchuma, explains this as a reference to the many
mitzvot involving earth or ashes: the prohibitions
against plowing with an ox and donkey together and sowing different kinds of
seeds together, the ashes of the red heifer and the earth used in the sota ritual.
Why was Bilam so impressed by the many mitzvot involving earth that Benei Yisrael observed?
The answer, perhaps, emerges from another, more famous, comment by Chazal concerning the mitzvot relevant to earth. The Gemara in Masekhet Sota (17a) cites Rava's comment that Benei Yisrael received the mitzvot of para aduma and the sota waters in reward for Avraham's exclamation, "Ve-anokhi afar va-eifer" – "I am but dust and ashes" (Bereishit 18:27). Beyond pointing to the correspondence between Avraham's description of himself and the elements used in these mitzvot, Rava appears to draw an association between these mitzvot and humility. It takes a certain degree of humility to perform mitzvot with dirt and ashes. Many people might find such activities beneath their dignity, unbecoming, and unsuitable as a religious ritual. But the humble person, who does not look for artificial gratification by winning fame, honor and distinction, will pay no attention to the relative "dishonorability" of a given ritual. If a person sees himself, as Avraham did, as "dust and ashes" in comparison with the Almighty, he can appreciate what an honor it is to serve God, whatever this entails. For him, there is no such thing as a "menial task" in the performance of mitzvot. That the given act constitutes a mitzva makes it something honorable and the greatest privilege.
Chazal generally portray Bilam as, first and foremost, a man of arrogance, a man who aspired to fame and prominence, and whose every action was driven by this ambition. Understandably, then, he stood in awe of Benei Yisrael's unquestioning compliance with even the mitzvot involving ashes and dirt. He could never bring himself to perform a "menial" religious act, to acknowledge his stature as "dirt and ashes" in the presence of God. He, perhaps more so than anyone else, could appreciate the humility manifest in the faithful observance of even the outwardly "demeaning" mitzvot, the mitzvot that very clearly express the Jew's recognition of the intrinsic value of Torah observance, and of the unparalleled honor that one should feel in fulfilling the word of God.
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We read in Parashat Balak that after Bilam's first unsuccessful attempt to curse Benei Yisrael, Balak, who had commissioned him for this task, says, "Please come with me to a different place from where you will see it [the Nation of Israel], only you will see just its edge – you will not see all of it – and you shall curse it from there" (23:13). It appears that Balak thought he could help his cause by allowing Bilam to see only a small part of Benei Yisrael; he therefore emphasized to Bilam that he would not show him the entire nation. Indeed, already in the previous attempt, the Torah tells that Bilam could see only "the end of the nation" (22:41), and not the entire people.
Rav Yehuda Gershuni, in his Sha'arei Tzedek (
This may help explain an enigmatic Midrashic passage relevant to a verse earlier in the parasha. As Bilam makes his way towards Moav, three times his donkey is forced to steer off the road or stop altogether to avoid colliding with the angel that obstructed the way, and in each instance Bilam beats the animal. God ultimately allows the donkey to speak, and he asks Bilam, "What have I done to you, that you have beaten me three times?" (22:28). The Midrash Tanchuma, cited by Rashi, notes that the donkey employs here the term regalim, which generally refers to the three pilgrimage festivals of Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot. Accordingly, the Midrash explains, the donkey here alludes to Bilam that he cannot hope to condemn Benei Yisrael, who three times a year make a nationwide pilgrimage to the Temple to celebrate with God.
Many writers have struggled to explain the particular relevance of the
regalim in this context.
Based on what we have seen, we might suggest that the Midrash here points
to the significance of the regalim as a unifying force that brings the
entire nation together. It is
revealing that when Yerovam, who led the secession of the ten northern tribes
from the Judean kingdom, sought to reinforce the ten tribes' disengagement from
What is true of the assessment of an entire nation is true when assessing an individual, as well. If we assess other people with an eye on the particulars, by magnifying specific details of their conduct, then we can easily find fault and grounds for criticism. But when we look upon other people from a "bird's-eye view," from a more general perspective, then, in most cases, we will have only good things to say about them. A person who contracts tzara'at, which generally surfaced as a punishment for lashon ha-ra, would be forced to live in isolation, outside the city, until he was fully cured. Lashon ha-ra generally results from a focus on the details of people's conduct; it is usually spoken about members of one's close circle of family and friends, with whom he has close contact which exposes him to the minute details of their lives. Appropriately, he is told to leave the city, where denied access to other people's affairs. From outside the city, the metzora can look upon his friends and community only from the "bird's-eye view," only in very general terms, and from this perspective he will come to respect the virtues and fine qualities of those people about whom he had spoken derisively.
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The Torah tells in the beginning of Parashat Balak of the delegation sent by the Moavite king Balak to summon Bilam, a gentile prophet, to come and place a curse on Benei Yisrael. We read that God appears to Bilam the night after he was approached by the delegation, and God asks him, "Who are these people who are with you?" (22:9). Bilam responds, "Balak, son of Tzipor, the king of Moav, sent [them] to me" (22:10). The Midrash Tanchuma, cited by Rashi, notes the seemingly superfluous description "king of Moav" that Bilam inserts in his response. The Midrash comments that Bilam wanted to emphasize to God that these men were sent to him by a king: "Although I am not important in Your eyes, I am important in the eyes of kings."
Why would Bilam boast to God that he is sought after by kings? The Midrash Tanchuma describes Bilam's response as pure arrogance ("hitchil le-hitga'ot"; see also Rashi, Melakhim II 20:14). This perhaps demonstrates that the arrogant person will never forego on an opportunity to speak of his own achievements and indulge in boastful self-aggrandizement.
However, Rav Shraga Pollack, in his work Tishbi (
Of course, Bilam's contrast is inherently flawed. True, there were instances when Benei Yisrael ungratefully quarreled with Moshe. However, the honor Balak showed to Bilam hardly demonstrated his sense of reverence towards Bilam's prophetic stature. Balak showered Bilam with honor for purely selfish reasons, in the hope of persuading him to accept the mission. Indeed, after Bilam's initial refusal, Balak sent higher-ranking officials to win Bilam's consent (22:15). This is not an expression of respect for a man of God; this is simply a desperate attempt to lure Bilam to come to Moav and accept the task of cursing Benei Yisrael.
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In Bilam's final prophecy about Benei Yisrael, which he proclaims before taking leave of
Balak, he foresees Benei
Yisrael's future rise to
prominence and dominion over other peoples, as well as the rise and fall of
several other nations. Towards the
end of this prophecy, he exclaims, "Oi, mi yichyeh mi-sumo Kel," which literally means, "Woe, who will
survive God's placing!" (24:23).
The commentators generally explain this exclamation as referring to the
time when the events that Bilam here prophesies ultimately materialize. Rashi explains this verse as a reference
to the period of the Assyrian emperor Sancheriv, who captured the known world
and displaced entire populations.
The Ramban, by contrast, claims that Bilam describes here the rise of the
The Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin (106a) cites Reish Lakish's homiletic
reading of this verse: "Woe unto he who sustains himself in the Name of
God!"
Several different interpretations have been offered for Reish Lakish's comment. Rashi initially explains that Reish Lakish refers to those who make themselves a God, such as Pharaoh, who, as many Midrashim indicate, proclaimed himself divine. This explanation well accommodates the context of Bilam's prophecy, at least according to the Rashbam's interpretation, which reads this prophecy as referring to the Messianic age. When God reveals Himself and metes punishment against the forces of evil, the falsehood of self-proclaimed deities will be exposed, and these so-called gods will be brought to judgment.
Rashi then presents a second explanation, which interprets the word
mechayeh (which we defined as "sustains") as denoting luxury and physical
pleasure. According to this
approach, Reish Lakish refers to those who indulge in the delights of this world
at the expense of their religious responsibilities. At the time of the final judgment, an
accounting will be made for those who neglected God's commands and spent their
time, money and energy in physical and material luxuries. Of course, this reading does not seem to
accommodate Reish Lakish's wording – "Woe unto he who sustains himself in the Name
of God!" It is unclear, according
to Rashi's second reading, why people who indulge in physical delights are
described as doing so "in the Name of God."
The Maharsha suggests that Reish Lakish speaks here of sinners who seek
to save themselves through mystical means, by invoking various Names of God, who
hope to "sustain themselves in the Name of God" in the most literal sense. He cites sources that tell of attempts
by Jews during the destruction of the
Finally, Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, explains that Reish Lakish refers to those
who find justification for their wrongdoing by claiming to act sincerely for the
sake of God. Many people seek to
"sustain" themselves through "the Name of God," by hiding behind a veneer of
religious altruism. Ultimately, the
mask will be removed, and God, who is fully aware of the true intentions
underlying every action we perform, will look behind the idealistic façade and
expose the truth behind every person's conduct.
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We read in Parashat Balak that when Balak sent his delegation of
dignitaries to summon Bilam for the purpose of placing a curse on Benei Yisrael, they brought with them kesamim (22:7), a term that generally denotes
instruments of magic and divination.
At first glance, it seems difficult to understand why Balak would send
these tools to Bilam. After all, he
specifically summoned Bilam because of his famed proficiency in the field of
sorcery; presumably, Bilam already had in his possession whatever instruments he
would need for the assigned task.
Why did Balak equip the delegation with kesamim?
Rashi offers two approaches in explaining this verse, both originating
from the Midrash Tanchuma.
First, he writes, "[They brought with them] all kinds of kesamim, so that he [Bilam] would not say, 'I don't
have my tools with me'." Balak
anticipated Bilam's possible claim that he does not have the necessary equipment
for this kind of job, and he therefore ensured to supply him with any kind of
magical tools he would need. The
Rashbam follows this approach, as well, as does Chizkuni (in his first explanation), though he
explains kesamim as referring to textbooks on the subject of
sorcery, rather than instruments of sorcery.
The flaw in this
explanation lies in the fact that, as mentioned, Bilam appears to have
established quite a reputation in the field of magic and sorcery, and it seems
difficult to imagine that at his level of "professionalism" he wouldn’t have the
proper equipment or texts.
Rashi then suggests a second explanation, claiming that kesamim here does not, in fact, denote instruments
of divination. Rather, it refers to
the "sign" that the Midyanite dignitaries metaphorically "took" with them as
they went to Bilam. They decided
ahead of time that if Bilam would not immediately accept the invitation, then
this would demonstrate that he is not truly capable of cursing Benei Yisrael.
Indeed, as Rashi notes, after Bilam's initial refusal to go to Moav, only
Moavite officials paid him another visit to once again invite him to come; the
Midyanite officials already despaired from Bilam and no longer participated in
this effort.
Ibn Ezra advances the novel theory that Balak sent along with these
dignitaries a team of magicians, anticipating that Bilam might decline the
invitation with the claim that he saw no propitious time for cursing Benei Yisrael on the horizon. The team of sorcerers accompanying the
delegation could easily refute such a claim, and for this reason Balak sent them
along with the Moavite and Midyanite officials.
Earlier, Ibn Ezra cites and rejects the approach taken by Shemuel
Ha-naggid, who interpreted the word kesamim here as a shorthand reference to the term
demei kesamim – the payment for magic. Meaning, Balak sent with the delegation
the sum of money he promised to pay Bilam in exchange for his cursing
services.
A slightly different theory is advanced by Chizkuni (in his second approach), who suggests that
the word kesamim itself means "money." His proof-text is a translation of
Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel to a verse in Sefer Chabakuk (3:15) –
"lo yigbun kisma
bi-Yerushalayim" ("they will not
accumulate wealth in
Finally, Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch speculates that the superstition of
the ancients required that the magician must take in his possession some article
belonging to the individual on behalf of whom he performs the given task. Balak's sending of kesamim along with his delegation of dignitaries
was thus in line with the superstitious beliefs that prompted this delegation in
the first place, which required him to give Bilam some allegedly magical article
in order for the sorcery to be effective.