16 Jul BALAK: THE TEMPORARY JEW WHY G-D APPRECIATES TENTS MORE THAN HOMES
The Sleeper
Izzy is sitting in shul
one Shabbos morning
when he falls asleep
and starts to snore.
The shul caretaker
quickly comes over to
him, taps him softly
on his shoulder and says, “Please stop your
snoring, Izzy, you’re disturbing the others in
the shul.”
“Now look here,” says Izzy, “I always pay
my membership in full, so I feel I have a
right to do whatever I want.”
“Yes, I agree,” replies the caretaker, “but
your snoring is keeping everybody else
awake.”
Tents and Dwellings
This week’s parsha, Balak, tells the amusing
story of Bilam, a prophet and archenemy of
the Jewish people, who was summoned by
the king of Moav to curse Israel. In the end,
in lieu of curses, the prophet gushes forth the
most splendid poetry ever written about the
uniqueness and destiny of the Jewish people.
His poetry has become classic, a wellspring
of inspiration for thousands of years.
In one of the stanzas, Bilam declares:
“How goodly are your tents, O Yaakov;
Your dwellings, O Yisrael!”
This is a verse Jews came to love so
profoundly that they start the morning
prayers with it every day, for 365 days a
year. The opening of our prayers is not with a
quote from Moshe or another Jewish sage or
poet, but with the words uttered by the
gentile Bilam.
And today I wish to share with you an
inspiring interpretation on this verse by the
Baal Shem Tov (1698-1760), founder of the
Chassidic movement.
“How goodly are your tents, O Yaakov;
Your dwellings, O Yisrael,” Bilam says.
There are tents and there are dwellings. The
tents belong to Yaakov; the dwellings to
Yisrael. But this seems to be a redundant
statement? What is the difference between
tents and dwellings, and why is one
associated with Yaakov, the other with
Yisrael?
A Tale of Two Structures
In the physical sense, the difference
between a tent and a dwelling is simple. A
tent is a temporary structure, initially
designed to be taken apart with the same
swiftness it pitched, while a dwelling
connotes a permanent
edifice and residence.
On a symbolic level,
“tents” and “dwellings”
represent two diverse
spiritual pathways.
There are human
beings who carve
out of their hearts a
permanent dwelling
space for the Divine.
Their epiphany with
G-d never ends. His
presence in their lives is
consistent and
undeviating. Their homes and spirits serve as
an abode for G-d.
But then there are the individuals who are
not so spiritually sensitive or exalted. These
human beings are too overwhelmed with the
stress of daily life, to be able to continuously
breathe-in a G-d-centered consciousness.
The confusions of the heart, the pressures in
the office, the burdens of holding a family
together, the endless deadlines and the many
vicissitudes of life’s experiences, deprive
them of their ability to remain forever
inspired and focused on the divine truths of
existence. Add to this the incessant
materialistic lusts and demands of a human
body, which often completely eclipse
G-d’s reality.
Notwithstanding this, even these
individuals, once in a while—perhaps
early in the morning, late at night, or
sometimes in the midst of a hectic day—
experience a yearning to spend a few
moments with G-d. Even people of this
category sense, every once in a while, a
frustration, a void, which leads them to
open their hearts to G-d. They then
construct a tent, a temporary space to
which they invite G-d, if only for a brief
while.
It may be, for example, a few moments
before sunset. A Jew, immersed in work,
suddenly reminds himself that he did not
“daven mincha.” He runs into shul and
starts talking to G-d, swiftly. In 8 minutes
he is done. What he is essentially saying is,
“G-d, I do not have much time; I have so
much on my head today. So let’s just spend
eight minutes together. Let us cover the
basics and I will be off to deal with the big
tough world out there.”
This Jew by no means creates a fixed and
permanent dwelling for G-d. At best, he
erects a tent, where he and G-d spend a
few moments together…
The Heel and the Head
These two types of individuals are
defined by the archetype names of our
people: Yaakov and Yisrael. Yaakov means
a heel; Yisrael consists of the letters which
make up the words “My head” (lee rosh).
The heel and the head represent, of course,
two extremes. Yaakov was given this name
when he emerged from his mother’s womb
holding on to his brother Eisav’s heel,
attempting to take his place as the firstborn.
He only received the name Yisrael after he
fought his rival and prevailed.
Yaakov, in other words, symbolizes the
person enmeshed in battle, who sometimes
finds himself in lowly places as the heel;
Yisrael is the one who emerged triumphant;
the person who is in touch with his or her
head and higher consciousness. Yaakov
erects temporary tents for G-d; Yisrael builds
permanent dwellings.
One might think that it is the dwellings of
Yisrael which are embraced by G-d. Yaakov’s
tents are at best tolerable, but not desirable.
Comes Bilam and declares: “How goodly
are your tents, O Yaakov; Your dwellings, O
Yisrael!”
Not only are Yaakov’s tents goodly and
beautiful, but they are, in a way, given
preference over Yisrael’s dwellings! First the
Torah declares, “How goodly are your tents,
O Yaakov;” only afterward “Your dwellings,
O Yisrael!”
It is precisely in the non-spiritual demeanor
of the “Yaakov” personality where the
objective of creation is fulfilled: To introduce
the light of G-d into the darkness of earth’s
landscape. Yisrael’s dwellings are islands of
transcendence, but it is in Yaakov’s tents
where the physicality and brute-ness of the
human condition are sanctified.
When a human being, bogged down by a
myriad of pressures, frustrated by the void of
meaning and truth in his life, tears himself
away for a few moments from the turmoil
and says, “G-d, liberate me from my
tension!” This person fulfills the purpose for
which this stressful world was originally
created: That it be exploited to fuel a longing
for meaning far deeper and truer than any
spiritual longing ever experienced on the
landscape of paradise.
Or as one Rebbe put it: “G-d tells us, ‘I ask
of you to give me only a few moments
every day, but those few moments should be
exclusively mine.’”