The Opposite of Magic: Balak

The Opposite of Magic
D'var Torah for Parashat Balak
by Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

“Do you believe in magic?”

I was sitting with a student the other day, studying her bat mitzvah portion of Balak (Numbers 22:2—25:9).  We were discussing the seer, Balaam, who was hired by the Moabite king, Balak, to curse Israel.  That’s when the student raised the question.

And at that moment, something crystallized in my mind.  It was the climax to a process that began years earlier, when I read Bernard Malamud’s novel The Natural.  I realized then that there are two modes of belief and thinking in the world.  One revolves around luck and gambling.  The other is more about what each one of us can do to bring about a desired outcome (short of throwing the game).  In Malamud’s novel, the ethics and morality of the two systems are weighed and examined.  It becomes pretty clear which worldview Malamud championed.

Last week, sitting and studying Balak in my study, it hit me.  These two complex systems could be distilled into two simple words:  magic and mitzvah.

Do I believe in magic?

Do you mean, I asked the student, magic as in magic shows or magic tricks?

No; she meant the other kind of magic, the world of superstition and curses, a world where seers and sorcerers, oracles and magi could control—or at least predict—your fate.

Balaam was such a seer, a man whose spiritual vision and clarity even the ancient Rabbis recognized as formidable.  His fame spread across borders; Balak, king of the Moabites, the last obstacle between the Israelites and the Promised Land, promised him power and untold riches if only he would cause something—anything! —that would make the Israelites disappear from Moab’s borders.  Their sheer numbers and legendary strength terrified the king.  Surely a man of Balaam’s talents could influence the darker powers and direct them to rain misfortune upon them!

It’s a famous story.  Balaam starts on his way, only to be thwarted by an angel wielding a fiery sword—that only Balaam’s ass can see (OK, readers, out of the gutter!  An ass—the Hebrew word aton—is a female donkey).  The humble animal proves better at perceiving God’s intent than Balaam, and it tries to protect Balaam.  The blind seer beats his animal in response.  This happens three times until the ass speaks its mind and heart, showing her as a much more compassionate, loyal and faithful creature than her master.  Once alerted to the presence of the angel, however, Balaam realizes what he must do.  Despite all King Balak’s efforts to have curses issue forth, only blessings come pouring out of Balaam’s mouth.

The praise he sings of Israel is exalted and noble:  Mah tovu ohalecha Ya’akov—“How goodly are your tents, O Jacob!”

What exactly did Balaam see at that moment?  What made the dark words he harbored in his heart turn into such supreme tribute?  Is this story simply a moral tale that teaches that God’s powers trump the darker powers of magic?

For some, that might be enough.  For them, this might be the simple truth and lesson of this story:  Moral:  Follow God’s ways; they are more powerful than any other ways.

But this message implies that darker powers do exist. 

And though I believe (how could one not?) in our all-too-human ability to hurt, to wreak chaos, even to do evil, I don’t believe that there is some satanic superpower out there vying with God for control of the universe. 

And no, I don’t believe in curses.  I do believe, however, in our ability to have some influence on the future by what we choose to do, say, and create.  There is no special potion—at least not the way I see it.  That power is in our hands already.

What Balaam saw that made him exclaim with such wonder and praise was antithetical to anything he saw in any other peoples, something in the Hebrew culture that he realized was far superior to any other of the time:  it was the Israelites’ moral and ethical behavior.  Balaam saw how miracles could be wrought by human hands.  Refugees from persecution and genocide, relying on the tested values of loyalty, faith, compassion and hope, the Israelites had created an oasis in the wilderness.  Through ethical behavior—mitzvot, if you will—they set a pattern that would outlast any other system.  It was destined for success—not by fate or magic, but simply because it is the only system that is truly guaranteed to work.

So no, Meira, I don’t believe in curses.  There is no magic; there’s only mitzvah.

And that power is undisputable.

And by the way—congratulations on your upcoming bat mitzvah!  Yasher koach—may you go from strength to strength.

© 2013 by Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman