Parashat Balak: How Lovely are Your Tents!
Shabbat Shalom.
Hard to believe, but this already my fourth Shabbat here at CBSRZ. I feel that much more comfortable here on the bimah, And I feel that Cantor Belinda and I are starting to find our rhythm together. I bring my own story, energy, style, and perspective, and slowly have a chance to bring my rabbinic voice in line with the needs and culture of CBSRZ. Now that we are 22 days into my tenure, I am feeling less like a stranger
Likewise, you have, before you, a new rabbi standing in front of you. You bring your expectations, your anxieties, your dreams, and your passion.
Whenever a rabbi joins a congregation, there is a sense of something new being created in the midst of the familiar. We aren’t sure exactly where the journey will take us, but we are willing, able, and excited to embark. This sense of hesitation mixed with anticipation reminds me of some very familiar words which happen to be found in this week’s Torah portion.
This week, in Parashat Balak, we read the intriguing and, frankly, hilarious,
story of Balak and Balaam. Balak, the king of Moab, was quite concerned by how numerous the Israelites had become. Therefore, he employed the pagan soothsayer, Balaam, to travel to the Israelites’ camp and curse them. Yet, over the course of the story, Balaam finds himself only able to bless the Israelites, much to the frustration and bafflement of King Balak. This is, of course, the story that includes the talking donkey, reminiscent of a scene from Shrek, who refuses to walk due to an invisible angel of God standing in the way. The donkey and Balaam argue, only to discover that the donkey was ultimately smarter and more perceptive than Balaam.
When Balaam finally reached the Israelite encampment, he was overtaken by the spirit of God, and spoke the words: “Mah tovu ohalecha, Yaakov, mishkenotecha, Yisrael.” Familiar, yes? “How lovely are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel.” A non-Israelite, when standing on the outskirts of the community, could only find blessings flowing from his lips about the community.
And this, my friends, is why these words begin our morning services – We sing Mah Tovu every morning as the very first thing because, at that moment, we are all standing on the outskirts. Literally or figuratively, we are all strangers at that moment, slowly becoming accustomed to the community that lies before us. Jew and non-Jew alike will feel moments of being a stranger, but the message is a reminder that it is our responsibility to help all feel welcome, comfortable, and a part of CBSRZ.
You have already helped Seth, Spencer, and me feel like members of the family, and I look forward with great anticipation to getting to know you. We will also have the duty of always helping those around you to feel equally at home, as well as welcoming those who will be new to our community. I stand before you, like Balaam, looking out and thinking to myself, Mah tovu – How special your community is, how lovely this is right now, and how good it will be for us all.
Together, we are Beth Shalom – a house of peace, and Rodfe Zedek – pursuers of Justice. No longer strangers standing on the edge of the encampment, but, rather, learners of our tradition, keepers of the heritage, members of our community, Repairers of our broken world, and a true family.
May all who enter find themselves surrounded by kindness, friendship, peace, and joy.
Ken Y’hi Ratzon. May this be God’s Will.
Amen.
