Balak, the King of Moab, certainly believed in the power of place. And he was desperate.
You see, Balak had a problem: the Israelites. A massive, powerful nation camped right on his border. So, what does any self-respecting king do? He hires a sorcerer, of course! Enter Balaam, a man renowned for his powerful curses. (Numbers 22)
But here’s where the story takes a fascinating turn. Balak's plan backfired spectacularly. Instead of curses, Balaam kept blessing the Israelites! Imagine Balak’s frustration. He's pulling his hair out, thinking, "What am I paying this guy for?!"
So, Balak tries a different tactic. He leads Balaam to the top of Pisgah, a mountain peak. He’s convinced that this place holds the key. Why Pisgah? Balak, using his own sorcery, believed it was a place of misfortune for Israel. He was sure that this time, Balaam would finally utter the curse.
But Balak was wrong. Terribly wrong.
He believed Pisgah held a curse for Israel. And in a way, he was right. But not in the way he imagined. The disaster that awaited Israel at Pisgah wasn’t a sudden defeat or plague. It was something far more poignant: the death of their leader, Moses.
As we find in Midrash Rabbah, God refused to grant Balaam’s wish to curse Israel, even on this spot tinged with sorrow. Pisgah was indeed destined for Israel's sorrow, but not through the mouth of a sorcerer. (Midrash Rabbah, Numbers 20:23)
It makes you think, doesn't it? Balak sought to manipulate fate, to weaponize a place of sorrow. But in the end, even his worst intentions couldn't change God's plan. And sometimes, the places we associate with misfortune aren't curses at all, but rather somber reminders of life's inevitable transitions.