Parshat Balak

Parshat Balak
July 11, 2008/ 8 Tammuz 5768

"Then Balaam said to Balak: 'Stay here beside your offerings while I am gone. Perhaps the Lord will grant me a manifestation, and whatever He reveals to me I will tell you.' And he went off alone." (Numbers 23:3)

Balaam, the Gentile prophet, was hired by King Balak of the Moabites to curse the Israelites. He agrees to the mission, but first he tells the King that he needs some time alone in order to receive a "manifestation" of God and to ascertain the exact content of his prophecy.

What happens next is stunning. In his solitude, Balaam finds a completely different message than the one he was seeking. He discovers that he cannot speak a curse, but rather can only offer blessing upon blessing to the Israelites.

I am both intrigued and challenged by the idea of self-isolation as a means of attaining this sort of insight.

Solitary pursuit of spiritual truth is well attested in Jewish tradition. Many of the great mystics— from the Talmudic Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai to the founder of Hasidism, the Baal Shem Tov, gained spiritual enlightenment during periods of solitary reflection. In the Hasidic literature this practice gained a name: hitbodedut.

Indeed, hitbodedut predates any of these figures. Many of our most prominent Biblical personalities are recorded to have had their most profound revelations of God in moments of solitude. Jacob dreamed of a ladder to heaven while sleeping in a field. Moses encountered a burning bush "beyond the wilderness" herding sheep in Midian. Elijah heard the Divine voice while hunkered down in a desert cave.

On the other hand, there is a strong prejudice in the Jewish tradition against isolating oneself from others. Prayer, an activity that might seem best suited for moments of rapturous solitude, can only be done as part of a minyan-- a gathering of ten adult Jews. Torah cannot be publicly read except in a community. Even study is not a solitary pursuit in traditional Jewish communities—rather, study almost always takes place in chevruta, a pair that seeks to unlock the essence of a text through vigorous debate and exchange. As it says in Pirke Avot (The Ethics of the Fathers): "One must not separate himself from the community!"

Balaam's isolation gave him the opportunity to perceive God and to transform his message of destruction into one of blessing. However, we learn from our Tradition that isolation from the community can deprive one of the spiritual opportunities presented by deep relationship with other human beings. We are left with a tension: Should one seek the kol demama dakka, the still, small voice of God, in the silence of the desert or the cacophony of the world?

It seems to me that as with most questions of spirituality, the answer to this question is probably yes and yes. Spirituality requires both stillness and relationship. Insight comes from both peaceful, solitary reflection and from boisterous, holy debate. The trick it seems is making space in our hectic, stress-filled lives for both.