Significantly, this verse is phrased in positive, absolute language, without any conditions. We do not say, “If you give me money, I will learn Torah,” or “Even if you offer me gold and silver, I will not abandon the Torah.” That is not our approach. Our commitment is absolute and is expressed positively and absolutely.

     “The Torah of Your mouth is better to me”—this is our central desire. We love the word of Hashem and His Torah more than any material possession. We value the spiritual world more than the physical one.

Avraham’s encounter with Ephron as a sign for future generations

This contrast also appears in Avraham’s dealings with Ephron Hachiti (the Hittite), a non-Jew. When Avraham sought to purchase the Me’aras HaMachpelah (the Cave of the Patriarchs), Ephron initially offered the field as a gift. Later, however, he said (Bereishis 23:15):

אֲדֹנִי שְׁמָעֵנִי אֶרֶץ אַרְבַּע מֵאוֹת שֶׁקֶל כֶּסֶף בֵּינִי וּבֵינְךָ מַה־הִוא וְאֶת־מֵתְךָ קְבֹר

“My lord, listen to me. A piece of land worth four hundred shekels of silver—what is that between me and you? Bury your dead.”

     He implied that four hundred shekels of silver were insignificant, yet he said this only after publicly offering the field and cave as a complete gift. In doing so, he revealed his true intentions, which were motivated by greed and self-interest rather than the benefit of Avraham Avinu. He portrayed himself as a noble and generous benefactor, but it was merely a performance. His true motives were revealed by his actions. Avraham Avinu, though perceiving Ephron’s true intentions, nevertheless accepted the terms without protest, in order to ensure that the field would become an eternal possession for himself and his descendants.

     Ephron’s traits closely resemble those of Bilam. The Sfas Emes at the beginning of our parashah cites the Mishnah that urges us to be disciples of Avraham Avinu and not disciples of the wicked Bilam. This parashah teaches us much about our own identity as a people. By understanding the negative traits of others, we sharpen and affirm the values that define us: peace, a good eye, a humble spirit, and a modest soul.

    And the wicked Bilam is the exact opposite, entirely bad traits: an evil eye and a haughty spirit.

II

The significance of the blessing: מַה טֹּבוּ אֹהָלֶיךָ יַעֲקֹב מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל (“How goodly are your tents, O Yaakov, your dwellings, O Yisrael”)

When Bilam gazed upon the camp of Bnei Yisrael, he opened his mouth and proclaimed these wondrous words, a poetic and prophetic verse which merited becoming part of our daily prayers. Indeed, it is the very first verse recited upon entering the beis hakneses (synagogue). The custom of reciting מַה טֹּבוּ   “Mah Tovu” is ancient, dating back to the formative period of the siddur (prayer book). In Seder Rav Amram Gaon it says: “One who enters the synagogue says, “Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov, mishkenosecha Yisrael. Va’ani b’rov chasdecha avo veisecha, eshtachaveh el heichal kodshecha b’yirasecha” (“How goodly are your tents, O Yaakov, your dwellings, O Yisrael. But as for me, in the abundance of Your kindness will I come into Your house; I will bow down toward Your Holy Temple in the fear of You.”)

Similarly, Machzor Vitry opens the order of Shacharis (the Morning Prayer) with these three verses:

“Va’ani b’rov chasdecha avo veisecha, eshtachaveh el heichal kodshecha b’yirasecha. Va’ani tefillasi lecha Hashem eis ratzon; Elokim, b’rov chasdecha aneini b’emes yishecha. Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov, mishkenosecha Yisrael.” (“And as for me, may my prayer unto You, O Hashem, be in an acceptable time. O Elokim, in the abundance of Your mercy, answer me with the truth of Your salvation. How goodly are your tents, O Yaakov, your dwellings, O Yisrael.”)

In later generations, the Maharil writes (Responsa, 150): “When one enters the synagogue in the morning, does he not recite “Mah Tovu” and the accompanying verses?” Many later poskim (authorities of Torah law), down to our own day, reinforced this custom. For example, the Darkei Moshe (Tur, Orach Chaim 6:3) writes: “The Kolbo (subsection 87) wrote that when one enters the synagogue he should recite “Mah Tovu… va’ani b’rov chasdecha” and so forth.”

Why begin the davening with a verse spoken by the wicked Bilam?

In Chamudei Shai on Bereishis (Parashas Toldos), a perplexing question is raised: Why do we begin our davening with a verse spoken by the wicked Bilam? A similar question may be asked regarding other verses uttered by wicked individuals that nevertheless became part of our liturgy. After careful consideration, an explanation was suggested as to why these verses were incorporated into the davening (see also Chamudei Shai on Megillas Esther, on the verse “Mi hu zeh v’ei zeh hu”).

In contrast with the above, however, the Maharshal writes (Responsa, 64) that when he enters the synagogue in the morning, he omits the “Mah tovu” verse and begins instead with “Va’ani b’rov chasdecha…” In his words:

“When I enter the synagogue in the morning, I begin with the verse “Va’ani b’rov chasdecha” and skip the first verse, “Mah tovu ohalecha,” which was spoken by Bilam. Furthermore, he intended it as a curse, as explained in Perek Chelek (Maseches Sanhedrin), and in any event this would not be the right place for this verse.

In the Maharshal’s view, how can we recite a verse that Bilam intended as a curse? After all, as explained in Sanhedrin (105b), Bilam’s intention was that Bnei Yisrael should not have synagogues and Torah-study halls, except that Hakadosh Baruch Hu, turned his curse into a blessing!?

The “Blessing of Batei Knessiyos and Batei Midrashos” (“the Blessing of Synagogues and Study Halls”) endures forever

The Maharshal’s objection is difficult to understand, for the Gemara in Sanhedrin (105b) states:

Rabbi Yochanan said: From the blessings of that wicked man, you can discern what was in his heart. He sought to say that they should have no synagogues or study halls (but instead he said), “Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov” (“How goodly are your tents, O Yaakov, your dwellings, O Yisrael”). He sought to say that the Shechinah (Divine Presence) should not rest upon them, but instead he said, “mishkenosecha Yisrael” (“your dwellings, O Yisrael”)… Rabbi Abba bar Kahana said: “All of them eventually reverted to curses except for the blessing regarding the synagogues study halls, as it says: ‘Hashem your G-d transformed the curse into a blessing for you’—the curse, singular, and not the curses.”

In other words, all of Bilam’s blessings eventually reverted to curses except for the blessing concerning batei knessiyos and batei midrashos, which remains forever. The plain meaning is that the verse “Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov, mishkenosecha Yisrael” refers to synagogues and study halls and this blessing never reverted to a curse, despite our sins. Bilam’s intention regarding them was never realized. If so, why did the Maharshal refrain from reciting this verse, especially in light of the words of the Rishonim (medieval sages) and the halachic authorities who arranged the text of the siddur?

An explanation for the Maharshal’s shita (approach)

Upon reflection, it appears that the Maharshal’s view can be understood differently. The “Mah tovu” verse is composed of two parts:

• “Ohalecha Yaakov” refers to the synagogues and study halls, concerning which the Gemara teaches that they will never depart from us.
• “Mishkenosecha Yisrael” refers to the Beis HaMikdash (Holy Temple), for Bilam inwardly intended to curse them that “the Shechinah should not dwell among them.” The Beis HaMikdash is the dwelling place of the Shechinah when we are on the elevated spiritual level represented by the name “Yisrael.”

The deeper meaning of the verse: two spiritual states of Am Yisrael

The verse “Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov, mishkenosecha Yisrael” may therefore be understood as describing two distinct spiritual states of Am Yisrael, reflecting our condition in galus and our state in Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel).

A. “Ohalecha Yaakov”—the miniature Batei Mikdash in exile

Ohalecha Yaakov refers to the synagogues and study halls in exile, the mikdashei me’at (Holy Temples in microcosm). This recalls Yaakov Avinu, of whom it is written: יֹשֵׁב אֹהָלִים “[He] dwells in tents.” Rashi explains that these were the tents of Shem and Ever, the ancient houses of study that were the focal point for Torah study and the preservation of faith. These mikdashei me’at are the source of Am Yisrael’s protection and survival in the times of exile. Yaakov, who is the father, symbolizes the protection of the Jewish people during periods of darkness, when they are distant from both their land and the Beis HaMikdash. The synagogues and study halls in exile are the basis for the preservation of faith and the connection with Hakadosh Baruch Hu, and regarding them it is promised that they will never cease from us.

B. “Mishkenosecha Yisrael”—the Batei HaMikdash in Eretz Yisrael

By contrast, mishkenosecha Yisrael refers to the state in which Am Yisrael dwells upon its land, the Land of Israel, and have the Sanctuary—the place of the indwelling of the Shechinah, which is the root of the word “your dwellings” (משכנותיך), in the Beis HaMikdash. There the Shechinah rests openly, and the nation is in a state of spiritual perfection. This also explains why the second half of the verse speaks only of Yisrael and does not mention Yaakov. The name Yisrael represents the Jewish people at their highest spiritual level, dwelling in their land with the indwelling of the Shechinah in the Beis HaMikdash, revealed to all. Unlike the first blessing, however, this condition is not guaranteed. We must merit it, and we may lose it if we fail to maintain our spiritual stature.

The Maharshal’s opposition to reciting the verse in the davening

This understanding of the verse “Mah tovu…” sheds new light on the Maharshal’s objection to reciting Mah Tovu at the beginning of davening. The Maharshal cites the Gemara that Bilam intended to curse Am Yisrael, but Hakadosh Baruch Hu transformed his curses into blessings. While Bilam’s lips uttered words of blessing, his heart harbored evil intentions. He desired that the Shechinah depart from the Jewish people—both from the batei knessiyos and batei midrashas of exile, as well as from the holy dwelling places, namely the Batei HaMikdash in Eretz Yisrael. After having attained such lofty spiritual heights, these destructions are so painful and distressing that some authorities, such as the Maharshal, held that it is inappropriate to begin the day with a verse in which there is hidden, even if only in a hint of a mere intention, the curse of the wicked Balaam, which due to our many sins was fulfilled: the departure of the Shechinah’s revelation and the destruction of the Temple. To our sorrow, through our sins, the Batei HaMikdash were destroyed. That is, in the second half of the verse, the harmful intent of the wicked Bilam prevailed over the words of blessing.

If so, it is possible that the Maharshal was concerned about including a verse especially upon entering the synagogue, where the intention of the one who said it was the departure of the Shechinah and the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash. After all, many beautiful verses spoken by tzaddikim are available. Why give preference to a verse that emerged from the mouth of Bilam with the intention that it be a curse, even if the first half of the verse constitutes an eternal blessing?

Support for the Maharshal’s view in the customs of Sephardic communities

Upon further examination, it appears that the Maharshal was not alone in this view. There are other Rishonim who adopted the same approach. Indeed, in the Sephardic liturgy, “Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov” is omitted, and the prayers begin with “Va’ani b’rov chasdecha.” They rely on this approach, preferring verses from the mouths of tzaddikim.

The enduring promise of the mikdash me’at, a source of consolation in exile

Sadly, when we sinned, we lost the privilege of experiencing the highest connection with Hashem through the Beis HaMikdash. But on the other hand, as the Gemara in Sanhedrin explains, the synagogues and study halls, the mikdash me’at, are guaranteed never to depart from us. They accompany us throughout every exile, providing consolation and inspiration until we once again merit the state of “mishkenosecha Yisrael” in its complete perfection, speedily in our days, Amen.

Reconciling the ancient custom, and a beautiful explanation of why one blessing remained forever

It seems to me that our custom to say Mah Tovu upon entering the synagogue, which is ancient and rooted in the teachings of the early Rishonim, may be reconciled as follows. Bilam’s evil intention in these words is completely nullified through the power of the holy intention a Jew invests in these words when he prays. Furthermore, it appears that since “ohalei Yaakov” and “mishkenosecha Yisrael”—the synagogues and study halls—are places uniquely designated for Torah and tefillah (prayer), the holiness of the Shechinah rests there through the voices of Torah and tefillah that emerge from the mouths of the Jewish people in holiness and intentions of purity. This accords with the teaching of Chazal that הַקֹּול קוֹל יַעֲקֹב “the voice is the voice of Yaakov,” refers to the voices of Torah and tefillah (prayer) that fill the synagogues and study halls. And through this, these places absorb this sanctity of the intentions of prayers and merit the indwelling of the Shechinah. In this sense, they possess an “Iron Dome,” and constitute a protected zone against the evil intention of Bilam in these words. For this reason, specifically the blessing for synagogues and study halls alone remains eternally valid and can never revert to a curse.

How much more so when Jews recite these words with intentions of purity when they enter the synagogue. This certainly transforms Bilam’s evil intention into blessing, for that moment and for eternity.

The significance of the crowns corresponding to Naaseh v’Nishma

     This requires explanation. It is understandable why naaseh is so praiseworthy, for it represents accepting upon oneself to fulfill whatever is written in the Torah, whether one understands it or not, and without any conditions. But what is the special virtue of nishma after we have already accepted the Torah unconditionally?

     It appears to me that naaseh extends to the nishma as well. In other words, our desire to understand and comprehend is itself only for the sake of fulfilling His will. We seek to contemplate His wisdom and internalize the Torah’s teachings and values solely in order to draw ever closer to Him. This also explains why we received crowns as a middah k’neged middah for placing naaseh before nishma. A crown rests above the head, meaning above the intellect. Thus, the crown corresponds to emunah, faith, which transcends intellect. It is easy to understand why we deserved a crown for naaseh, since we accepted the Torah with simple faith, in the spirit of “Tumas yesharim tanchem,” “The integrity of the upright guides them” (Mishlei 11:3; see also Shabbos 88b). And in light of our explanation, it is equally clear why we deserved a crown even for nishma—for our entire goal in understanding, contemplating, and internalizing is not for our own benefit, but solely in order to fulfill the will of our Father in Heaven and to serve Him with the fullness of our  intellect, in the spirit of “Da es Elokei avicha v’ovdeihu,” “Know the G-d of your father and serve Him.” Our pursuit of understanding is therefore not self-serving at all.

Acceptance of the chukim: the revelation that even our nishma is in the category of naaseh

     And this where the great tikkun (rectification) of “Chukas HaTorah” (the “Decree of the Torah” ) comes into play, namely, a mitzvah such as Parah Adumah, which is singled out by the halachah (Torah law) of אָדָם כִּי יָמוּת בְּאֹהֶל  “when a man dies in a tent,” meaning that “a person should die (exert himself to the point of death) over the words of Torah.” This is a level of exertion that extends far beyond personal comfort or the pursuit of intellectual pleasure. Its purpose is solely to fulfill the will of Hashem yisborach. This is especially true when considering that this is a chok, where there is inherently a limit to what can be understood, with more hidden than revealed. Yet despite this, we toil in Torah no less, and with the same degree of love that as in the study of mishpatim (laws) whose reasons are readily understood. For such a nishma, one truly deserves a crown as well.

The concept of the Parah Adumah serving as a rectification for the chet ha’Eigel

    Based on this, we can understand the teaching Rashi brings down from Chazal that the Parah Adumah serves as a rectification for the chet ha’Eigel (sin of the Golden Calf): “Let the mother come and clean up the filth of her child.”

As we have explained, at Mattan Torah we merited two crowns because we placed naaseh before nishma, accepting the Torah with complete faith. Through the chet ha’Eigel, we lost those crowns due to the lack of faith expressed in that sin. But then when we joyfully accept and devote ourselves with mesirus nefesh (self-sacrifice; total devotion) to chukim such as the Parah Adumah, which transcend human understanding, we demonstrate our faith in the mitzvos, and even our nishma becomes a form of naaseh, for we labor to understand even that which lies beyond our grasp, not for our own sake, solely to bring nachas ruach (deep satisfaction) to our Creator, may He be blessed.

III

The secret of a well-known Jewish expression found throughout the world

The expression אוי ווי “Oy vey“ (“Oh, woe!”) has been used for generations to express sorrow, frustration, or pain. The Yiddish expression “Oy vey” has reached far beyond the Semitic languages, and it is an expression in so many languages.

About twenty years ago, while listening to the Torah reading of Parashas Balak, I noticed what appears to be the ancient and holy source of this expression, in our parashah. The Torah states: אוֹי מִי יִחְיֶה מִשֻּׂמוֹ אֵ־ל “Oy mi yichyeh misumo Kel” (“…Woe, who shall live when G-d does this?”) (Bamidbar 24:23). Onkelos translates these words as: “Vai le’chayavaya de’yeichun kad yaavid Elaka yas ilein” (“Woe to the wicked who shall live when G-d performs these things).” This well-known Jewish expression is, in fact, a combination of the Biblical Hebrew word אוי “oy” together with the Aramaic word וי “vay” from Targum Onkelos. I presented this idea before my revered teacher, the Gaon Rabbi Dovid Cohen, shlita. He liked it and included it in his work Yiddish: The Holy Language (Addenda to the 5765 edition).

The word “oy”, and the expression “oy vey,” have always been distinctively Jewish expressions of sorrow and frustration; a heartfelt cry of pain over many hardships, great and small, that have befallen us throughout the generations, including tragedies. But sometimes “oy vey” is used humorously. The expression has become one of our means of survival, a sigh that allows us to release our pain and continue onward.

There is a profound irony in the fact that the wicked Bilam—who intended that his prophecies serve as curses, but Hakadosh Baruch Hu transformed them into blessing, is the one who introduced the word “oy” into our holy Torah. The word “oy” appears one other time in the Torah, in the previous parashah: אוי לך מואב “Oy lecha Moav” (“Woe is to you, Moav”), where it is attributed to the poets of Moav which some say was composed by Bilam. Thus, Bilam is the one who brought the two expressions of sorrow, “oy” and “oy [vey],” into the Torah.

Just as Hashem transformed Bilam’s curses into blessings, so may it be His will that all of our cries of “oy” likewise be transformed into blessing. Indeed, the gematria of אוי “oy” is seventeen, the numerical value of the word  טוב “tov” (“good”). May Hashem transform all our “oy” into “tov.” Amen.

Maharal Tzintz

Our parashah deals entirely with the attempt of the Moavites to wage war against the Jewish people. Let us study a small portion of it in the light of the teachings of Rabbeinu, the Maharal Tzintz.

As is well known, Balak and the Moavites saw how Am Yisrael defeated Sichon, king of the Emori. From this they realized the great strength of Am Yisrael, and they became exceedingly fearful of them. What did the Moavites do? וּבָלָק בֶּן־צִפּוֹר מֶלֶךְ לְמוֹאָב בָּעֵת הַהִוא “And Balak the son of Tzippor was king of Moav at that time.” They appointed Balak son of Tzippor as their king in order to confront “the Israelite challenge.” What was Balak’s war strategy? The third pasuk of the parashah tells us this:

וַיֹּאמֶר מוֹאָב אֶל־זִקְנֵי מִדְיָן עַתָּה יְלַחֲכוּ הַקָּהָל אֶת־כָּל־סְבִיבֹתֵינוּ כִּלְחֹךְ הַשּׁוֹר אֵת יֶרֶק הַשָּׂדֶה. “Moav said to the elders of Midian: ‘Now this assembly will lick up everything around us, as an ox licks up the grass of the field.’”

Rashi there already raises the question: Why did the Moavites turn to the

Midianites for assistance? After all, the Moavites and Midianites hated each other, as it says in Sefer Bereishis:  הַמַּכֶּה אֶת־מִדְיָן בִּשְׂדֵה מוֹאָב “…who smote Midian in the field of Moav”! Midian once fought against Moav! Does one seek the help of an enemy?

Rashi resolves this by explaining that the Moavites did this out of their fear of Bnei Yisrael. This explanation already appears in the Midrash: “But do we not find that Midianites fought against the Moavites, as it says (Bereishis 36:35), ‘He defeated Midian in the field of Moav’? The hatred between them was from time immemorial. Rather,” explains the Midrash, “This may be compared to two dogs that were fighting one another. A wolf came upon one of them. The other said, ‘If I do not help him today, the wolf will kill him today and come after me tomorrow.’ Therefore, Moav joined together with Midian.”

According to the simple meaning of this Midrash, we are dealing here with straightforward military strategy. The Moavites saw that Am Yisrael possessed tremendous strength, to the point that they defeated the mighty Sichon. They therefore joined forces with Midian so that together they might overcome them. However, if we contemplate the matters, we must wonder: 1. When Sichon himself fought against Moav and conquered part of its territory—the city of Cheshbon—why did Moav not seek the assistance of Midian then to unite with them against Sichon?  2. Since they saw the immense and supernatural power of the Jewish nation, how would uniting Midian and Moav together? Would Am Yisrael surely not defeat the “union of Moav and Midian”?

To understand the matters thoroughly, we turn to the perspective of our master, the Maharal, on these verses. The Maharal views the calculation of Midian and Moav to unite together to fight the Jewish people not as a military calculation on the earthly plane, but as a Torah-based calculation on the heavenly plane.

He explains that when Bnei Yisrael defeated Sichon and conquered all his territory, part of that territory included the city of Cheshbon, which had originally belonged to Moav. Although Bnei Yisrael had been commanded not to conquer the Land of Moav, once Sichon conquered Cheshbon from Moav it became part of Sichon’s kingdom, and Bnei Yisrael were permitted to conquer it. As Chazal said: “Ammon and Moav were purified through Sichon.” From here stemmed the fear of the Moavites. They were afraid that Midian would wage war against them and conquer portions of their land. Once those territories became part of Midian, Bnei Yisrael would be permitted to conquer them, just as they conquered Cheshbon from Sichon.

This possibility was precisely what the Moavites sought to prevent. They therefore made peace with Midian. They understood that as long as Midian did not conquer any part of Moav, they remained completely protected from Bnei Yisrael, not through military strength, but through the mitzvah of the

Torah that prohibited the Jewish people from conquering the land of Moav.

Viewed in the light of Rabbeinu’s approach, the earlier questions disappear. When Sichon fought against Moav, Midian had no realistic possibility of helping them against such a powerful enemy, and therefore Moav did not seek peace with them. Only when Moav feared Bnei Yisrael and were worried that the prohibition against Bnei Yisrael waging war against them could become undone, did they unite with Midian.

Rabbeinu goes on to explain the end of the verse with the same approach: וּבָלָק בֶּן־צִפּוֹר מֶלֶךְ לְמוֹאָב בָּעֵת הַהִוא “And Balak the son of Zippor was king of Moav at that time.” Rashi explains that until that time Balak had not been the king of Moav. Only then, after the downfall of Sichon, did they appoint him as king. Rabbeinu asks: What was unique about Balak that caused the Moavites to choose him as king? He answers that Balak was not a military strategist and possessed no exceptional military capabilities. But he was a sorcerer and understood the potential spiritual breaches of the Jewish people, and even more so than Bilam!

Thus says the Midrash (Bamidbar Rabbah 20:18):וַיְהִי בַבֹּקֶר וַיִּקַּח בָּלָק אֶת־בִּלְעָם וַיַּעֲלֵהוּ בָּמוֹת בָּעַל “And it came to pass in the morning, that Balak took Bilam and brought him up into the high places of Baal.” The Midrash comments:

Balak possessed greater skill in sorcery and divination than Bilam, and Bilam followed him like a blind man.

To what may this be compared?

To one who has a knife in his hand but does not recognize the joints [the convenient places for cutting], and his fellow recognizes the joints but does not have a knife in his hand. Such was the relationship between them. Balak knew the places where Am Yisrael falters.

This tells us that the appointment of Balak as king at that particular time was likewise based upon spiritual considerations. The Moavites understood that the Jewish people’s victories are not determined by earthly or military considerations, but rather by Heavenly considerations. Therefore, they chose Balak, who excelled in the power of the occult, hoping to overcome Bnei Yisrael through metaphysical forces.

What lessons should we take from these pesukim? First, Rabbeinu’s remarkable explanations of why Moav and Midian joined together, and why the Moavites specifically chose Balak as their king. Second, there is an additional and important lesson concerning how we should view reality. When we see two nations forming an alliance, or when we see a king being appointed, we should not explain these events merely in terms of earthly calculations of political or military strategy. Rather, there is a heavenly battle taking place. The heavenly calculations revolve around the laws of the Torah

and higher spiritual forces, which ultimately determine the outcome of events and establish the order of the world.

It was not only Am Yisrael that understood this. Even our enemies, the  gentile nations Midian and Moav, understood that things depend upon the altering of the heavenly systems and not on earthly forces at all.

Let us understand this, and we will know how to win our wars.