And the answer, as often happens in Jewish tradition, is layered and complex, and more than a little surprising.
According to the Legends of the Jews, compiled by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, the story of Balaam, the last of the non-Jewish prophets, offers a powerful explanation. Balaam's life, filled with moral failings, serves as a cautionary tale about the responsibility that comes with divine gifts. His story essentially explains why God ultimately "withdrew from the heathen the gift of prophecy."
But let’s back up a bit. The tradition tells us that Shem, son of Noah, was the first prophet commissioned to speak to the nations after the flood. Imagine that: God, having cleansed the world, turns to Shem and says, "Look, if the Torah – that’s the divine teachings and law – had existed before, maybe I wouldn't have had to destroy everything. Go out and share My revelations! See if they'll accept it."
For four hundred years, Shem went around as a prophet. Four hundred years! And yet, the nations wouldn't listen.
Later, others arose. The book of Job, which many scholars believe originated outside of Israel, gives us Job and his friends Eliphaz, Zophar, Bildad, and Elihu. These figures, along with Balaam himself, are said to be descendants of Nahor, Abraham's brother, from his union with Milcah.
Now, here's where it gets really interesting. The text suggests that God gave the heathens Balaam as a prophet so that they couldn't later claim they were never given a fair chance. "Had we had a prophet like Moses," they might have argued, "we would have received the Torah!" So, God provides them with Balaam, who, according to this tradition, was in no way inferior to Moses in wisdom or prophetic ability.
Think about that for a moment. The text is claiming that Balaam was Moses' peer among the non-Jewish world! While Moses was undoubtedly the greatest prophet among the Israelites, Balaam held a similar stature among the other nations.
Of course, there were differences. Moses was called directly by God, without any need for preparation. Balaam, on the other hand, could only receive divine revelations through sacrifices. But Balaam had one advantage: Moses had to pray to God "to show him His ways," while Balaam could declare that he "knew the knowledge of the Most High." Quite a claim!
Yet, despite his prophetic gifts, Balaam failed to use them for good. He never performed a single act of kindness. Instead, his "evil tongue" nearly brought destruction upon the world. It was this moral failing, this profound disconnect between his prophetic abilities and his ethical behavior, that ultimately led God to vow never to exchange the Israelites for another people or allow them to dwell in any land other than Palestine.
The lesson? Prophecy isn't just about receiving divine messages. It's about using those messages for good, for justice, for the betterment of the world. Balaam's story reminds us that gifts, no matter how extraordinary, are meaningless without the moral compass to guide them. And perhaps, that's why prophecy ultimately took root so deeply in the Israelite tradition, a tradition that emphasizes not just knowledge of God, but also the responsibility to act in accordance with His will.