13 Jul THE TEMPORARY JEW WHY HASHEM APPRECIATES TENTS MORE THAN HOMES

The Sleeper Izzy

is sitting in

synagogue one

Sabbath morning

when he falls

asleep and starts

to snore. The

synagogue care

taker 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 Issy, “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 Torah portion, Balak, tells the

amusing story of Balaam, a prophet and

archenemy of the Jewish people, who

was summoned by the Moabite king 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, Balaam

declares: “How goodly are your tents, O

Jacob; Your dwellings, O Israel!” 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 Moses or another

Jewish sage or poet, but with the words

uttered by the gentile Balaam. 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 Jacob;

Your dwellings, O Israel,” Balaam says.

There are tents and there are dwellings.

The tents belong to Jacob; the dwellings

to Israel. But this seems to be a

redundant statement? What is the

difference between tents and dwellings,

and why is one associated with Jacob,

the other with Israel? 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 Hashem never

ends. His presence in their lives is

consistent and undeviating. Their

homes and spirits serve as an

abode for Hashem. 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

Hashem-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 Hashem’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

Hashem. Even people of this

category sense, every once in a

while, a frustration, a void, which

leads them to open their hearts to

Hashem. They then construct a tent,

a temporary space to which they

invite Hashem, 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 mincah” (pray the

traditional dusk service). He runs

into shul (synagogue) and starts

talking to Hashem, swiftly. In 8

minutes he is done. What he is

essentially saying is, “Hashem, 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 Hashem. At best, he

erects a tent, where he and Hashem

spend a few moments together…

The Heel and the Head These two

types of individuals are defined by

the archetype names of our people:

Jacob and Israel. In Hebrew, Jacob

(Yaakov) means a heel; Israel

(Yisroel) consists of the letters which

make up the words “My head” (lee

rosh). The heel and the head represent,

of course, two extremes. Jacob was

given this name when he emerged from

his mother’s womb holding on to his

brother Esau’s heel, attempting to take

his place as the firstborn. He only

received the name Israel after he fought

his rival and prevailed. Jacob, in other

words, symbolizes the person enmeshed

in battle, who sometimes finds himself

in lowly places as the heel; Israel is the

one who emerged triumphant; the

person who is in touch with his or her

head and higher consciousness. Jacob

erects temporary tents for Hashem;

Israel builds permanent dwellings. One

might think that it is the dwellings of

Israel which are embraced by Hashem.

Jacob’s tents are at best tolerable, but

not desirable. Comes Balaam and

declares: “How goodly are your tents, O

Jacob; Your dwellings, O Israel!” Not

only are Jacob’s tents goodly and

beautiful, but they are, in a way, given

preference over Israel’s dwellings! First

the Torah declares, “How goodly are

your tents, O Jacob;” only afterward

“Your dwellings, O Israel!” It is

precisely in the non-spiritual demeanor

of the “Jacob” personality where the

objective of creation is fulfilled: To

introduce the light of Hashem into the

darkness of earth’s landscape. Israel’s

dwellings are islands of transcendence,

but it is in Jacob’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, “Hashem, 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: “Hashem tells us, ‘I ask of

you to give me only a few moments

every day, but those few moments

should be exclusively mine.’”