Dvar Torah on Parshat Balak

I was considering not writing anything this week. The ongoing tragedies we are experiencing here in Israel - the horrible murders of Eyal, Naftali and Gil-Ad, the continuing rocket attacks on southern Israel, and the awful murder of a 16-year old Palestinian boy - infinitely more awful if it was done by some Jewish imbecile who thinks, in some twisted way, that this atrocity could be some kind of response to the murder of our boys - have been commented on by everyone out there in the blogosphere, and I am not really sure that I have much to add. Nor did I much feel like writing about anything else. Therefore, I'd like to just share with you some thoughts about a phrase in this week's parsha, Balak, which touches on one of the seemingly peripheral but, I think, crucial elements of this on-going tragedy, which, I hope, will somehow turn around soon. 

Balak, the King of Moav, is afraid of the oncoming Israelite nation, who will pass through his territory on their way to Israel.  He hires a non-Jewish prophet, Bil'am, to curse the Israelites, in the hope that this might weaken or destroy them. Famously, God does not allow Bil'am to do this and, instead, puts in his mouth a series of beautiful and poetic blessings for the people of Israel.

The first of these curses-turned-to-blessings goes like this: "They are a people that shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned among the nations." This idea that we are a "people that dwell alone" - עם לבדד ישכון - actually figures prominently in Israeli political discourse. One of the famous expressions of how it is popularly and positively understood was uttered by David Ben Gurion. When warned about possible sanctions from the United Nations - called the 'Oom' in Hebrew, an acronym , like UN, for United Nations -  he brushed these concerns off by saying "Oom, shmoom", as if to say, "who cares what the other nations of the world say or think about us. We are right, we stand alone, and we - and they -  should get used to it."

This attitude is still used today to shrug off concerns about international sanctions,  or, alternatively,  to warn against our depending on assistance from other countries in a pinch - we are, as Bil'am said, a nation that dwells alone, we are not taken into account  by other nations, so they will never help us in our hour of need. Some use it as an argument against being too open to non-Jewish cultural influences. Others, with a more internationalist approach, chafe against this verse, and openly wonder if this is not, in fact, a curse that Bil'am managed to sneak in. They would like to see us rise above what they perceive as a negative assessment of our place among the nations, stop being so alone, and interact more normally and positively with the rest of the world.

During the 18 awful days that the three boys were missing, the Israeli and Jewish media made much of our aloneness. There was a good deal of complaining about how little press the kidnapping story was getting, how international leaders were stingy in expressing support for Israel, and unwilling to clearly condemn the perpetrators. I'm not sure how I feel about these complaints. Honestly, with Iraq, Syria, Nigeria, and the Ukraine all experiencing horrible, bloody civil wars, I am not so sure that the rest of the world is obligated to pay that much attention to three missing Jewish boys, though a bit more sympathy from some quarters would heve been in place. Also, I do sense an uptick in interest in the media now, after the murder of Muhammed Abu Khdeir, and an ongoing lack of interest in the constant barrage of rockets falling on houses, factories, etc., in the south, so, who knows. But I do know that I am uncomfortable with the way so many Jews rushed to embrace our aloneness, to positively revel in it. And I feel this way because I think their approach is based on wrong pshat; an incorrect reading of Bil'am's blessing.

The traditional commentaries seem to foucus on two things when understanding this verse. Most of them  see it as pointing to the final day of judgement, when the Jewish people will stand alone in their righteousness, survive, and not be punished, as the other nations will be. Nachmanides (the Ramban) does see it as a current, ongoing reality, but explains it in terms of Jewish unity and solidarity - unlike other nations, who tend to be an amalgam of different tribes and cultures, the Jewish people really do have one, central, unifying bond: the Torah. That is what makes us unique: a unity and oneness based on our historical ties to God's laws. Similarly, the Ibn Ezra sees us as being special due to our intimate relationship with God. That is our aloneness; not a basic discomfort or lack of trust with the other nations, but, rather, our unique possession of an ancient culture with a specific moral, ethical, theological, and legal content. 

What is not to be found in the traditional understanding of this verse is this notion that 'the world is against us, but we shouldn't care, because we're on our own anyway, and they are all immoral.' I do not see, in the traditonal commentaries, much, if any, discussion of how we are fated to be politically and diplomatically alienated from the rest of the world, and that that alienation is a blessing. I see nothing in Bil'am's words that compels us to aspire to an adversarial relationship with the UN, the EU, the USA, the UK or any other non-Jewish political, national, configuration of letters.  We are not meant to automatically distrust and discount them and their values. What we are meant to do is make sure we live up to that which really makes us special, what really sets us apart - the laws and values of the Torah - and hope that that will stand us in good stead when it comes time to be judged.

I believe we did that during the difficult period of waiting for news about the boys, and in the way we reacted to the final, tragic news. Our behavior - that of the families, especially, if I may say so -  was in line with what I think Judaism demands of us. I certainly hope that we don't lose it now, and forget to behave the way the Torah and Jewish tradition expect us to. Evil - and God knows there is plenty of it out there - needs to be identified, named, and fought, and, here in Israel, we fight it, literally, all the time.  But there is no value in relishing a separateness and aloneness from a world which is not all evil. And there is certainly no harm in hoping for, and working towards, a positive relationship with that world. We have plenty of real enemies, but that doesn't include absolutely everyone. We don't need to feel more alone than we have to.   

Shabbat Shalom, and may we hear good news from now on,

Rabbi Shimon Felix