 | Don Quixote comes to mind, though Cervantes meant his fictional character to be satire. Too many zealots, both historical and modern, are anything but fictions or mere satire. A zealot's charisma can captivate and intoxicate. A zealot's seeming commitment to principle can inspire – or blind. Adulation can reinforce the zealot's sense of rightness. Intoxicated by their own power and rightness, zealots may feel that they're special, even chosen – whatever the cost. And often, almost always, there is a cost. Yet life is full of zealotry. Must we be zealots in turn? |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Parashat Balak 5785 (2025)
Maybe it's the times we live in, but lately I've been thinking about Cervantes' Don Quixote.
In the first modern novel, an ordinary guy pretends himself a knight of chivalry, re-creates his world in the image of his manufactured projection of himself, then makes misbegotten adventures in real life. To Don Quixote, truth and rightness are whatever he says they are, though at least principles of chivalry supposedly inspire him.
Don Quixote was published in 1609. Today we see real-life zealots, and most aren't chivalrous. In contexts large or small, zealots tend to see and make reality in their own image. They don't brook disagreement, and they treat others who disagree with disdain or worse. Meanwhile, the costs of zealots' misbegotten adventures tend to be very high.
So, what's the wisest response to zealotry and its often deep damage? Torah's answers this week don't offer comfort – but next week's Torah portion will bounce back for us.
This week's Torah portion sets up our zealotry problem with not one, not two, but three zealots – king Balak intent on destroying the Israelites, Balak's holy man Bil'am intent on doing Balak's bidding, and an Israelite named Pinhas
The first zealot (Balak) is bent on his own power. He insists that Bil'am curse the Israelites so Balak can best them in battle, but Bil'am can only say what the Source of Prophesy tells him to say. In moves that could only be called quixotic (hat tip to Don Quixote), king Balak keeps moving Bil'am around, figuring that maybe here he'll be able to curse them.
The second zealot (Bil'am) spoke for the Source of Prophesy, but Bil'am was zealous for Balak and especially for himself. A real prophet should have nothing to do with religion for political hire, but Bil'am wanted to stay the king's prophet with all the rewards that Balak offered. So off Bil'am goes on his misbegotten adventures, only to be foiled by a talking donkey and a sword-wielding angel acting as traffic cop (Num. 22:22-31).
Torah's answer to the zealotry of Balak and Bil'am is that God redirects their zealotry for God's purposes. Instead of cursing Israel, God will have Bil'am bless them (Num. 24:5-8).
To our urgent question about what to do about zealots, the answer of this week's portion is theological and even supernatural. To many of us, this answer leaves us cold. Waiting for God amidst zealotry, cruelty and even tyranny seems not just pacifist but also defeatist, even cruel. Would we really leave the world's suffering in God's hands and not do something? Would we really play the pacifist card against leaders raising up inhumanity on our watch?
Cue the third zealot. Pinhas sees two Moabites have sex in the Holy of Holies, and spears them both through the belly (Num. 25:8). In next week's Torah portion, Torah will seem to approve Pinhas' zealotry, which makes our question even harder. Approve murder for the sake of ritual sanctity? Murder to maintain the moral order? What spiritual lesson is that?
If all of this sounds too close to home, too on the nose, too much ripped from the headlines, almost too painful, I'm with you. But hang on. Torah isn't done yet, and neither are we. Continued next week.
Parashat Balak 5785 (2025)
Maybe it's the times we live in, but lately I've been thinking about Cervantes' Don Quixote.
In the first modern novel, an ordinary guy pretends himself a knight of chivalry, re-creates his world in the image of his manufactured projection of himself, then makes misbegotten adventures in real life. To Don Quixote, truth and rightness are whatever he says they are, though at least principles of chivalry supposedly inspire him.
Don Quixote was published in 1609. Today we see real-life zealots, and most aren't chivalrous. In contexts large or small, zealots tend to see and make reality in their own image. They don't brook disagreement, and they treat others who disagree with disdain or worse. Meanwhile, the costs of zealots' misbegotten adventures tend to be very high.
So, what's the wisest response to zealotry and its often deep damage? Torah's answers this week don't offer comfort – but next week's Torah portion will bounce back for us.
This week's Torah portion sets up our zealotry problem with not one, not two, but three zealots – king Balak intent on destroying the Israelites, Balak's holy man Bil'am intent on doing Balak's bidding, and an Israelite named Pinhas
The first zealot (Balak) is bent on his own power. He insists that Bil'am curse the Israelites so Balak can best them in battle, but Bil'am can only say what the Source of Prophesy tells him to say. In moves that could only be called quixotic (hat tip to Don Quixote), king Balak keeps moving Bil'am around, figuring that maybe here he'll be able to curse them.
The second zealot (Bil'am) spoke for the Source of Prophesy, but Bil'am was zealous for Balak and especially for himself. A real prophet should have nothing to do with religion for political hire, but Bil'am wanted to stay the king's prophet with all the rewards that Balak offered. So off Bil'am goes on his misbegotten adventures, only to be foiled by a talking donkey and a sword-wielding angel acting as traffic cop (Num. 22:22-31).
Torah's answer to the zealotry of Balak and Bil'am is that God redirects their zealotry for God's purposes. Instead of cursing Israel, God will have Bil'am bless them (Num. 24:5-8).
To our urgent question about what to do about zealots, the answer of this week's portion is theological and even supernatural. To many of us, this answer leaves us cold. Waiting for God amidst zealotry, cruelty and even tyranny seems not just pacifist but also defeatist, even cruel. Would we really leave the world's suffering in God's hands and not do something? Would we really play the pacifist card against leaders raising up inhumanity on our watch?
Cue the third zealot. Pinhas sees two Moabites have sex in the Holy of Holies, and spears them both through the belly (Num. 25:8). In next week's Torah portion, Torah will seem to approve Pinhas' zealotry, which makes our question even harder. Approve murder for the sake of ritual sanctity? Murder to maintain the moral order? What spiritual lesson is that?
If all of this sounds too close to home, too on the nose, too much ripped from the headlines, almost too painful, I'm with you. But hang on. Torah isn't done yet, and neither are we. Continued next week.
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