Ever feel like you're going through the motions, doing all the "right" things, but something's just... off? Like your heart isn't really in it? Well, the story of Balaam in the Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, hits that feeling square on the head.
Imagine the scene: Balaam, the non-Jewish prophet-for-hire, is up to no good. He's been hired by Balak, king of Moab, to curse the Israelites (Numbers 22-24). He's built seven altars – a huge number, right? He’s offered bullocks and rams, expensive sacrifices. Sounds impressive, doesn't it?
But here’s the kicker. God isn't fooled. He confronts Balaam, asking, "What doest thou here?" It's not just a question of location, is it? It's a question of intention.
Balaam boasts about his altars, comparing them to those of the three patriarchs – Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He thinks he’s impressing God with the sheer scale of his offering. But God retorts with a powerful message, quoting Proverbs 15:17: "'Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.'" Ouch.
What does that mean? It's not about the quantity or the extravagance. It's about the heart. God continues, saying that the simple meal of matzah, unleavened bread, and herbs that the Israelites ate in Egypt, eaten with faith and love, is more pleasing than Balaam's sacrifices offered out of enmity, out of hatred.
As we find in Midrash Rabbah, it’s the kavanah, the intention and devotion behind the act, that truly matters.
And then God really lays down the law. He tells Balaam that if He truly desired offerings, He wouldn't need Balaam. He could just command Michael and Gabriel, the archangels, to bring them! The audacity of Balaam thinking that God would accept offerings from the nations of the world, when He had vowed to accept them from Israel alone!
So, what happens next? Divine intervention, of course. God sends an angel to silence Balaam. The angel enters his throat, preventing him from uttering the curses he intended to speak against the Israelites. Talk about poetic justice! He can't even speak the hatred he feels!
It's a stark reminder that empty rituals and outward displays of piety are meaningless without genuine feeling and righteous intent. We can build all the altars we want, but if our hearts aren’t in the right place, it's all for naught. So, what altars are we building in our lives? And what is the true intention behind them?