16 Jul BUILD A TENT

This week’s parsha tells us of Balak, King of
Moav, and Bilaam, a sorcerer and practitioner
of black magic.
Balak saw Bnei Yisroel’s large encampment,
their vast number of tents, and became filled
with feelings of both fear and hate. Emotions
so strong and powerful, that he was able to
incite the people of Moav against the Jewish
nation. He realized that the strength of the
Jewish people came not from their military
prowess, but from a G-d above. He saw a
nation that flourished and thrived even while
being enslaved in Egypt. A people, who
despite being tired and weak from their
travels, were able to defeat those who harassed
them.
Balak recognized that since the Jewish nation
was led by a spiritual leader, his best option to
overcome them was to engage the services of
Bilaam, a non-Jewish spiritualist, asking him
to place a curse upon Bnei Yisroel.
“And Moav was afraid of the nation, ki rav hu,
because they were many, and Moav was
disgusted, because of the Children of Israel.”
(Bamidbar 22:3)
“Ki rav hu…. Because they were many.”
As I read these words, the terrifying

demonstrations and even violent
confrontations of anti-Semitic mobs that we
have seen these past few months strike a
chord. And who can ever forget the chilling
parade by right-wing Jew-haters in
Charlottesville chanting “You will not replace
us… Jews will not replace us.” Words that
haunt me to this day. The pro-Palestinian
protestors may try to wrap their message as
one in sympathy with the Palestinians, but the
veil has been stripped away long ago – their
marches and demonstrations are nothing short
of hatred towards our nation and our people.
Many years ago, I remember my mother a”h,
telling me that as a Holocaust survivor she
sees it happening once again… a resurgence
of anti-Semitism. My mother would say that
she wasn’t afraid of remembering the horrors
of the Holocaust. What frightened her more
was the forgetfulness that comes with a lapse
of time.
But this is the United States, I thought, a land
founded on the doctrine of religious freedom.
How wrong I was. The actual words may be
different, but the message is the same. Balak’s
cry of “they are many” is one with the chants
of today’s Jew-haters. They both convey the
same message. While comparatively, we may
be few in number, to the world around us “we
are many”. Generation after generation, these
hateful words are repeated. From Balak to this

very day – words of hate and intolerance
continue to exist.
A while back, a remarkable news item was
reported of previously unknown recordings of
the notorious Adolf Eichmann ym”s, proudly
boasting, “If we had killed 10.3 million Jews,
I would say with satisfaction, ‘Good, we
destroyed an enemy.’ Then we would have
fulfilled our mission,” he said, referring to all
the Jews of Europe. Eichmann and the Nazi
war machine also saw “ki rav hu…. Because
they are many”.
HaShem appeared to Bilaam, telling him not
to heed King Balak’s request, yet Bilaam
couldn’t resist. He was enticed by the promise
of fortune and fame. But the King of kings had
other plans.
“There came upon him a Ruach Elokim, a
spirit of G-d” (Bamidbar 24:2). Rashi brings a
Midrash which says that a spirit entered
Bilaam’s heart not to curse Bnei Yisroel.
Thereupon, Bilaam’s words became words of
blessing.
“Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov, How goodly are
your tents, (children of) Jacob,
mish’ke’nosecha Yisroel, your dwelling
places, (children of) Israel”.
(Bamidbar 24:5)
A bracha so beautiful, so intrinsic to our faith,
that it was placed at the very beginning of our
Shacharis prayers every morning.
In every generation, there are those who try
to knock us down, to do us in. But we are
here. We are not only survivors, but we are
builders of tents, of dwelling places. We are
a nation that builds and rebuilds, time and
time again.
As a child and grandchild of Holocaust
survivors, I can attest that the greatest
nachas my parents and grandparents had
was to see “tents”, the continuation of
family after the war.
Bilaam may not have realized it, but his
words were truly words of prophecy and
blessing. It is the essence of being a Jew.
The desire to go on and build when all looks
bleak.
My zeide, HaRav Avraham HaLevi
Jungreis, zt”l would speak at all our family
simchas. At every bris, bar mitzvah,
wedding and sheva brochos. On each
occasion, he would begin his message with
the bracha of she’he’chiyanu, thank you
HaShem for bringing me to this milestone
in life. Thank you HaShem for giving my
family the koach, the strength to build tents.
To continue growing. Zeide always included
one request. “Ich beit nor ein zach, I ask for
only one thing, az aleh mein kinder zulen
bleiben bei Torah un mitzvos, that all my
children should live a Torah way of life.”
To build ohalei Yaakov, tents of Yaakov.
The greatest love of my grandmother,
Mama, a”h was to just look at yiddishe
kinderlach, Jewish children. Not just her
grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but

all Jewish children. Coming from Bergen-
Belsen, her biggest treat was to see new life, a

new generation. During the summers, she
loved coming to visit me at our bungalow
colony, just to see all the sweet little children.
I recall the moving words of Rabbi Yisrael
Meir Lau, the former Chief Rabbi of Israel,
speaking in 2012 at the Siyum HaShas in
MetLife Stadium. Looking out over a sea of
almost 100,000 Jews gathered for a celebration
of Torah, Rabbi Lau – himself a survivor of
the Holocaust – cried out, paraphrasing the
words of Dovid HaMelech in Tehillim (Psalm
94:1), “Keil nekamos HaShem, Keil nekamos
hofiya, HaShem is the G-d of vengeance, the
G-d of vengeance appeared here.” That
massive “tent” of a new generation of Torah
observant Jews, was the greatest revenge
against those who sought to annihilate Am
Yisroel. There was not a dry eye in the stadium
that night.
At our annual Hineni Rosh HaShanah
programs, a family-friendly event, there was
invariably a crying baby and a mortified
mommy. When davening was over, my mother
would announce that the baby’s cries were the
most beautiful sounds. It was the sound of
Jewish life continuing on. The sound of a
Jewish child who represented the future of our

nation. My mother would share that in Bergen-
Belsen there weren’t any babies crying. “What

a bracha”, my mother would say, “to hear a
baby cry. To witness the continuation of
Jewish life”.
I am reminded of a story a friend shared with
me. Her son was quite short, and she brought
up her concerns with the pediatrician. The
doctor, a fine, elderly Italian man, said “Mrs.
Levine, you are part of a holy nation. In the
secular world, perhaps I would advise seeing
an endocrinologist. It is a world that values
height. But your world is different.” The
doctor continued. “What is the name of that
great rabbi who was very short? Was it Rabbi
Feinstein? He may have been small in size,
but a giant of a person. You don’t need to see
anyone. Your son will be fine. You live in a
world that measures a person by character and
scholarship, not by physical height.”
Mah tovu ohalecha, how goodly are your
tents.
Bilaam looked at the Jewish nation and saw
beautiful tents. Tents that were defined by
modesty, by refined character, by devotion to
Torah study.
As Jews, we should be proud of who we are.