Shaarei Tzedek – Orthodox Judaism in Downtown Toronto

© Rabbi David Lapin, 2007

The prophetic donkey

Not only can animals smell, hear and see things that humans cannot, at times they can even intuit spiritual forces of which humans seem to be oblivious.

Both the Ramban and Rashi are intrigued by the capacity of Bilam’s donkey to “see an angel of Hashem” (Bamidbar 22:23). “Even humans do not see angels other than in visions or dreams,” [1] says the Ramban, “angels are spiritual forces that cannot be detected by the senses”. For this reason, he suggests initially, this particular animal simply intuited a danger that stopped its progress in its tracks. The animal could not have known the nature of that danger; it is the Torah telling us, the reader, that the danger was in fact an angel of Hashem.

According to the Ramban, then, this was no miracle. In fact, that is why when Chazal talk of the miracle of “Bilam’s ass”, they talk of its ability to speak to Bilam, not about its capacity to see angels, claiming that, in fact, the donkey did not see an angel, but merely intuited its presence. That would be in conformity with its nature and not a miracle at all.

The Ramban’s thesis leads us to a vitally important insight about spirituality. Since angels are spiritual, they cannot be experienced by the human senses. However, their impact and presence is physical and that can be naturally experienced by physical beings, at times even by animals.

However, this leads the Ramban to ponder why Bilam could not experience at least the same level of awareness as his donkey. Without changing the fundamental premise of his thesis above, he modifies his interpretation of this particular episode and adopts a more conventional (albeit more supernatural) view, by means of which the donkey did see the angel. According to this revision, that was part of the total miracle by means of which G-d enhanced that particular donkey’s perceptive capabilities to see what even Bilam could not.

Fear impairs perception

Rashi, on the other hand, deals with the Ramban’s question in a different and most intriguing way. Rashi says, as a general statement, that G-d has enabled animals to see more than humans. This is because human analytical powers would terrify people out of their minds if they could truly see the destructive forces around them. This does not necessarily suggest, according to Rashi, that animals can see angels. Instead, Rashi adresses the Ramban’s concern, and validates his original thesis. The animal intuited (the Ramban explains the use of the word “see” as intimating “intuit”) a dangerous force, and one of which Bilam was oblivious. The reason G-d has given animals the power to intuit those forces, Rashi claims, is because they can instinctively handle them without becoming totally terrified. This implies that G-d sometimes makes us ignorant to protect us from our own fears.

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By Lazer Gurkow

They stood arrayed against each other; the best either nation had to offer. On one side stood Moses, who will be remembered as the greatest prophet of all time. On the other side was Balaam, the far-famed soothsayer, whose curses were regarded as all-powerful.

Both had access to the highest levels of divine truth. Both could transcend their human limitations and engage in divine discourse. Moses utilized his gift for prophecy and blessing, Balaam utilized his gift for destruction and damnation; seeking to manipulate divine will against the victims of his wrath. [1]

Moses led his people along a path destined by G‑d, a path of sanctity and inspiration. Opposing him was Balaam, hoping to use his divine gift to obstruct this path. Balaam intended to apply his usual tactics; sorcery and soothsaying. But, in an ironic twist of faith, Balaam’s words were used against his intentions by the very G‑d he had hoped to manipulate.

As the Torah tells it (Numbers 22:2-24:14), the people of Israel were encamped on the borders of Moab when Moses applied for permission to the Moabite king for his people to pass through. Rather than grant such license, Balak, king of Moab, commissioned Balaam to place a curse upon the Jews. Balaam embarked for Moab, hoping to use his venomous oratory. But G‑d pulled the curses from Balaam’s mouth and implanted instead a beautiful ode to the Jews–an ode that ranks as the highest praise of Jewish people in all of the Torah.

The question is: what was Balaam thinking? How could he have hoped to manipulate G‑d against G‑d’s own children? How could he hope to harness divine powers to counter-purpose with the divine?

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Why such a strange punishment? Is there no other way to penalize them? Indeed, we are told that the ‘mouth of the earth’ that consumed Korach was created at the beginning of time! (at the end of the six days of creation, on Friday at dusk). What makes the ‘mouth of the earth’ so important that it had to be formed at the outset of Genesis – waiting thousands of years for the day that it would open to ‘welcome’ Korach and his cronies!

This takes us back to Atzilut and materialism – the theme of the previous episodes in the last two Torah portions.

Korach did not arrive in a vacuum. Let’s put ourselves in his shoes. As a sharp man (a ‘pikach’) he was obviously closely following the discussions (debates) and events that came before him. He first heard that the people demanded meat. They were questioning the possibility of integrating G-dliness and the material world. Then Korach listened closely to G-d’s response – the revelation of Atzilut, which would bridge the two worlds of spirit and matter, of the Divine and the human.

Korach then witnessed the sin of the scouts, who challenged the very notion of being able to conquer a ‘land that consumes its inhabitants.’ Materialism is just too strong for us, they argued. Korach saw how they were severely punished for defying the very purpose of existence – to make a home for G-d in this lowliest world, in the world of the gross matter.

So now the stage is set. Here is a reenactment of Korach’s argument:

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The charge of nepotism

Almost every year for Parshat Korach I try to understand anew, the underlying core issue of the Machloket (divisive argument). It is not that I am dissatisfied with my earlier interpretations. Rather, I believe part of the purpose of interpreting any Torah, but especially Parsha, is not to just to reach deeper textual understanding, but also to gain insight into very current and contemporary issues. So, when we look at Parsha, we are inevitably looking at it from the angle of our own experiences in the present. That is the meaning of Bechol yom yiheyu be’eineichem kechadashim (each day experience Torah as new).

Korach’s claim of nepotism would find a sympathetic ear in most frameworks of corporate governance today. I am not sure that today, a U.S. President could get away with appointing his brother as the Attorney General the way President Kennedy did. Why, out of a vast choice of holy people – all of whom encountered G-d himself at Mt. Sinai, does Moshe choose his own brother as Kohen? We know the answer: Moshe did not make the choice, Hashem did. But this is exactly what Korach finds hard to accept.

Korach, and in fact the people of Israel, had no way of knowing that Moshe was acting in good faith on the instructions of Hashem. On the contrary, Korach assumed, based on his understanding of G-d’s value system, that it was highly unlikely that the appointment of Aharon as Kohen Gadol was an instruction from Hashem. Surely G-d would not set an example of such a narrow concentration of power in the hands of two brothers? Surely this could only be Moshe’s own quest for power and the manifestation of his own ego? The core of the issue is that Korach did not trust Moshe.

Korach went wrong in allowing his rational, analytical mind to dominate his assumptions. As powerful and crucial a tool as intellect is, it limits us when we use it as our only tool for the interpretation of events. We need to use our intuitions too – and the most critical intuitive sense we need to use is our power of trust.

Life without trust

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by Yosef Yitzchak Jacobson
The Failed Attempt

The spies Moses sent to survey the land had done their job well. They convinced the entire nation that the advance to the Land of Israel was doomed and that Moses has misled them by taking them out of Egypt. A national hysteria consumed the nation. They demanded a new leader who would return them to Egypt.

In the continuation of this episode related in this week’s portion (Shelach), Moses chastises the nation severely. He communicates to them G-d’s pledge that their wish would be fulfilled: they would not enter the land but rather perish in the wilderness. Moses’ words hit the people very hard and brought them to their senses. They decided to repent and advance toward the land. They exclaimed, “We are ready! We shall ascend to the place G-d has spoken; indeed we have sinned.”

This time, though, Moses refused to go along.

“Why do you transgress the word of G-d, it will not succeed!” he tells them. “Do not ascend, for G-d is not in your midst! And you will not be smitten before your enemies.”

But they refuse to obey. They are determined to mend their mistake and advance toward the Promised Land. “They defiantly ascended to the mountaintop, while the Ark of G-d’s covenant and Moses did not move from the camp.”

This path turned out to be ill advised. They were indeed struck down (1).

No Second Chance?

This story must be studied well.

The Bible often speaks of G-d as welcoming and embracing repentance. The Jews have repented in this case: they acknowledged their sin; they expressed remorse; they were determined to reverse their actions and follow the destination G-d envisioned for them at the outset of their journey. But Moses warned them against it. Why? Doesn’t Judaism believe in a second chance?

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© Rabbi David Lapin, 2007

Your image as your personal amplifier

Concern about one’s “image” is not always a sign of ego and insecurity: it can also be a necessary strategy to amplify a person’s effectiveness.

Often the most profound truths go unheeded because the waves that transmit them are too feeble to be detected. Despite, or in many cases as a result of a world of increasing communication, bombarded as we are with email, the ubiquity of printed materials, the internet and a dissemination of knowledge and opinion greater and faster than ever before in history, we remain often unable to interpret, sift and research essential truths in this mass of material. These often undiscovered or unheeded truths are sometimes in the form of books not well publicized, articles not well circulated or oral statements heard by too few. Each second, millions of messages, some very valuable, hurtle through our personal space, taking many different guises. Lacking the correct equipment for reception, amplification or interpretation, we may not “hear” and certainly may not “heed” them. Even when Hashem spoke to Moshe from the Aron (the Ark), there were people standing right next to Moshe who could not hear G-d’s voice[1]: they lacked the ability to “amplify” the sound waves of His voice, in whatever form they took place, and “translate” them. The reason we do not experience prophecy today is not because there is no prophecy, but because we lack those prophets capable of amplifying G-d’s voice. While G-d continues to communicate in a myriad ways all the time, we are generally not geared to receive His messages.

Similarly, although in a lesser sense, there are countless precious human beings, wise and authentic, whose message may never be heard because their voices are never amplified. The capability to influence effectively is more than a function of an individual’s self worth; it is also a function of that individual’s capacity to amplify his message. People use a variety of tools to amplify their message: they use their personal authority by drawing on their experience, knowledge and achievements; they use their charisma and their presence; and they use their powers of persuasiveness. They are also able to use a tool that gives them amplified impact even among people who have never met them: their reputation and image.

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Copyright – Rabbi David Lapin

Giving is receiving

The almost paradoxical relationship between the accounting terms “credit” and “debit’, are universal truths core to human relationship. A credit exists on your balance sheet when you have created indebtedness in another. You create indebtedness by giving another person something of your own. When you receive something from another, you create a debit in your books, not a credit. If a person owes you more than you originally gave them, then value has been created. (In banking terms this would occur when the interest on a debt exceeds the cost of mitigating the risk of the loan, or when the investment was into equity rather than into debt and the value of the equity has grown over time faster than the cost of the money invested.)

Building social wealth is no different. When you invest in another person, you create indebtedness in them and earn social credit [1]. When you accept a favor from another you create a social liability in your “books” and a credit in theirs. If the other person feels indebted to you for more than the cost of your favor, you have successfully built social wealth. So, for example, if you did something very thoughtful for your friend that didn’t cost you much but was exceedingly meaningful to them, you created social wealth for yourself. It is a greater responsibility to accept something from someone else than it is to give him or her something. Giving creates credit; receiving creates liability!

An Halachic Parallel

There is an interesting parallel in halacha: Kol yeter kenatul dami. “Anything additional is as if it were subtracted”. So for example, in the laws of tereifa it is an equally disqualifying abnormality for an animal to have one limb too many as it is for it to have one limb too few. So too in finance, any additional amount in my books that is not my own, creates a debit and should be considered as if it were not there!

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Courtesy of Rabbi Simon Jacobson.

Many, many lessons can be gleaned from this week’s Torah chapter.

I learned three of them from my father.

LIGHT

The Menorah plays a prominent role in the Bible and in tradition. This week’s chapter begins with the statement to Aaron “raise the flames.”

Why so much focus on the menorah, more than any other Temple vessel? Because the kindled flames of the menorah encapsulate the very purpose of our lives: To illuminate our surroundings. Each of us must be a “walking menorah,” illuminating and warming everyone and everything we meet.

We live in a dark and cold world. Many of us are confused; others feel alone. It is hard to find our way in a material world that conceals the path of truth. Our souls wander the earth in search of our destiny, in search of some peace. The menorah teaches us that every single encounter allows us the opportunity to being in some light and warmth to others and to ourselves.

How many people make you feel uplifted after a conversation? How many bring you down? How many of your friends bring a smile to your face? How many a scorn?

Yes, we always have two choices: Either to illuminate others or to add to their misery. There is no third option. As the wise say, “If you are not busy being born, you are busy dying.” If you are not party of the cure, you are part of the problem. If you are not bringing light into this world you are contributing to its darkness.

As the Talmud tells us, “every generation that does not rebuild the Temple is considered s if it destroyed it.” Strong words. Because the status quo of a shrouded life is not healthy.

And therein lies our power: We have the ability to shine; to light up the darkest crevices.

Every interaction offers us the choice.

I have seen a man who has brought light to many people in the most discreet of ways. So discreet, that I wonder whether he himself was aware of it.

INDEPENDENCE

The flames must rise on their own. It’s not enough to kindle a flame, but you have to ensure that the flame has the power to burn on its own.

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