I’m sure that I
speak for a majority of individuals who may be reading this, when I say that my
life has often been a struggle between that, which I wanted for myself, and
that, which I felt responsible to do for others. I like to think of myself as something of an
individualist, but I served close to three decades in the military service
where I often subordinated my own desires to the needs of my duties. And we all, whether in service to country, or
service to an employer, or service to one’s family, are often faced with the
same decisions. It is simply an
existential fact of our lives – excepting perhaps those who tend to be
self-contained, who eschew marriage, child-raising, and other demanding
relationships – that we find ourselves conflicted repeatedly. It’s the main reason that I find myself right
now, preparing for a long voyage in a small boat, something that figured
prominently in my dreams from a young age but which career, marriage, and
parenthood, forced me to put off until now, in my sixties.
This week’s
Torah reading, Balak, includes a verse that is extremely well-known
amongst Jews today. We know this verse,
because in many synagogues it is sung as an anthem at the very beginning of the
morning service. Mah tovu ohaleicha
Yaakov, mishkinoteicha Yisrael. “How
goodly are your tents, O Jacob; your dwelling-places, O Israel.” It has become an anthem, which which to start
the morning worship and teaching service, because the Rabbis connected the two
words ohel – tent – and mishkan – dwelling-place, with the two ancient
places where the people Israel gathered to worship G-d. Ohel, tent, as in Ohel Moed, the
‘Tent of Meeting,’ the moveable sanctuary that accompanied the Israelites on
the sojourn in the desert. Mishkan, dwelling-place,
as in HaMishkan, the permanent place of worship erected by Solomon, the
son of David on Mount Zion. The verse is
stated, or sung at the beginning of the service – immediately upon entering the
synagogue – to draw a parallel between Israel’s ancient places of worship, and
their contemporary counterparts, where we enter regularly to praise G-d.
But in the
context of our Torah reading, Balaam, the prophet of the gentiles, is not
praising a place of worship, but literally the tents, the dwelling-places of
the people Israel. He is depicted as
standing atop a mountain overlooking the encamped people Israel; he is
observing how their camp is neatly organized by family unit and tribe.
Balaam himself,
you’ll know if you’ve read the parasha, has experienced conflict between
that which he wanted to do, and that which he was instructed by G-d. Recruited by Balak, the Midianite king to
curse his enemy Israel, Balaam is told by G-d not to go but Balaam, in a child-like
campaign to do as he pleases, whatever, argues with G-d that he will not curse
Israel as long as G-d continues to so instruct him. In his ‘negotiation,’ he reminds me of many
such negotiations that I conducted with my own children when they were young,
and I told them they couldn’t do something or other, and they tried to get me
to relent ‘in stages,’ by getting themselves closer to what they wanted
thinking that having taken me down the road, the last mile wouldn’t be so hard for
me to concede.
So, Balaam has
to negotiate with G-d three times to get him to the place where he is standing
in a high place, looking out over Israel’s tents.
What is it
about the arrangement of Israel’s encampment that brings Balaam to make his
pronouncement about how good are Jacob’s tents, Israel’s dwelling-places? The text tells us that he proclaims it after
seeing how the encampment is organized by tribe and family-unit. By tribe:
the Israelites express their loyalty to their ancestral unit by using
that criteria as their main organizing factor.
They remain organized by tribe, for purposes of government and also assignment
to fighting units for the upcoming struggle to conquer the land of the
Canaanites. By family: the tents are set up, so that each family’s
dwelling has a private entrance, symbolic of each individual family’s autonomy
and need for privacy.
In other words,
the Israelites engaged in the struggle between the individual and the
collective, and – at least apparently, judging from the way their camp was set
up – they had found the balance necessary to satisfy all aspirations.
Today, we
struggle with the same choices. We do so
in the general realm, and also in the realm of Judaism. In the latter sphere, we desire to uphold the
well-being of the Jewish people as a whole.
To support and defend the State of Israel. To defend our religious liberties in the various
countries of our habitation. And yet, we
sometimes find it necessary to ‘break ranks’ with our fellow Jews at times when
our individual sensibilities lead us to do so.
Sometimes, it is positive impulse that leads us to do so, and the result
is positive. Sometimes, just as with
Balaam and his desire to do the bidding of King Balak, whatever the cost, we allow
ourselves to be lead by that, which we’ve already made up our minds to do. But this is the nature of the struggle. Even when we observe negative consequences in
others’ actions that they have taken in their own response to the struggle, we
don’t repudiate the struggle itself.
In our
struggles between that, which we want to do for ourselves, and that, which we
feel duty-bound to do, may we always keep an open mind to allow ourselves to be
lead in the best paths. Shabbat shalom.
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