 "Balaam and the Angel" (Jaeger, 1836) | We yearn for "yes" – a benevolent Power that answers prayers, cures the ill, heals the world and satisfies wants. Countless many have lost faith (and sometimes found it again) after encountering a spiritual "no" when they yearned for "yes." It takes courage, maturity and wisdom to be in relationship with a "God of no" – which, it turns out, flips a key Western belief image on its head. |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Parashat Balak 5784 (2024)
We've heard it countless times: "I lost my job, but then I found my passion." "I deeply miss my mom who died, but grief softened me." "Cancer has been grueling, and somehow I'm a better person."
It's human to yearn and pray for outcomes – the "A" on the test, the job, the cure, the comfort, the port in the storm. We yearn for this "God of yes" – and sometimes "yes" happens. Other times, we encounter a "God of no" – or sense nothing at all. In its wake, we might lose faith, harden our hearts, and even declare God dead.
Yet often the story isn't over. When challenge or loss distances us from heart, community, spirit or God, often we end up wrestling. With time, effort and guidance, we can learn to see with new eyes. We can learn resilience, new softness and courage to love and hope again.
If you're wrestling something like this, please be in touch. And maybe you'll recognize in yourself some of this week's Torah portion, in which a "God of no" reveals the "devil" we know.
Parashat Balak 5784 (2024)
We've heard it countless times: "I lost my job, but then I found my passion." "I deeply miss my mom who died, but grief softened me." "Cancer has been grueling, and somehow I'm a better person."
It's human to yearn and pray for outcomes – the "A" on the test, the job, the cure, the comfort, the port in the storm. We yearn for this "God of yes" – and sometimes "yes" happens. Other times, we encounter a "God of no" – or sense nothing at all. In its wake, we might lose faith, harden our hearts, and even declare God dead.
Yet often the story isn't over. When challenge or loss distances us from heart, community, spirit or God, often we end up wrestling. With time, effort and guidance, we can learn to see with new eyes. We can learn resilience, new softness and courage to love and hope again.
If you're wrestling something like this, please be in touch. And maybe you'll recognize in yourself some of this week's Torah portion, in which a "God of no" reveals the "devil" we know.
Yes, that "devil," as in "Satan" – the "no" instead of "yes," the Lex Luthor to Superman.
What does the "God of no" have to do with "Satan," or us? Is there really a "Satan" in Jewish life? Answers turn out to be spiritually deep, and offer a spotlight on how religions evolve.
This week's Torah portion features one of her magical moments. An ancient king sends his holy man, Bilam, to curse the Children of Israel wandering the desert. Mishaps befall him, but Bilam is stubborn. He insists on powering through them to fulfill his king's command. Bilam dutifully mounts his donkey and heads off on his mission. What happens next shows Bilam who's really in charge (Num. 22:22-32):
What does the "God of no" have to do with "Satan," or us? Is there really a "Satan" in Jewish life? Answers turn out to be spiritually deep, and offer a spotlight on how religions evolve.
This week's Torah portion features one of her magical moments. An ancient king sends his holy man, Bilam, to curse the Children of Israel wandering the desert. Mishaps befall him, but Bilam is stubborn. He insists on powering through them to fulfill his king's command. Bilam dutifully mounts his donkey and heads off on his mission. What happens next shows Bilam who's really in charge (Num. 22:22-32):
| וַיִּתְיַצֵּ֞ב מַלְאַ֧ךְ יהוָ֛׳׳ה בַּדֶּ֖רֶךְ לְשָׂטָ֣ן ל֑וֹ...׃ וַתֵּ֣רֶא הָאָתוֹן֩ אֶת־מַלְאַ֨ךְ יהוָ֜׳׳ה נִצָּ֣ב בַּדֶּ֗רֶךְ וְחַרְבּ֤וֹ שְׁלוּפָה֙ בְּיָד֔וֹ וַתֵּ֤ט הָֽאָתוֹן֙ מִן־הַדֶּ֔רֶךְ וַתֵּ֖לֶךְ בַּשָּׂדֶ֑ה וַיַּ֤ךְ בִּלְעָם֙ אֶת־הָ֣אָת֔וֹן לְהַטֹּתָ֖הּ הַדָּֽרֶךְ׃ וַֽיַּעֲמֹד֙ מַלְאַ֣ךְ יהוָ֔׳׳ה בְּמִשְׁע֖וֹל הַכְּרָמִ֑ים גָּדֵ֥ר מִזֶּ֖ה וְגָדֵ֥ר מִזֶּֽה׃ וַתֵּ֨רֶא הָאָת֜וֹן אֶת־מַלְאַ֣ךְ יהוָ֗׳׳ה וַתִּלָּחֵץ֙ אֶל־הַקִּ֔יר וַתִּלְחַ֛ץ אֶת־רֶ֥גֶל בִּלְעָ֖ם אֶל־הַקִּ֑יר וַיֹּ֖סֶף לְהַכֹּתָֽהּ׃ וַיּ֥וֹסֶף מַלְאַךְ־יהֹוָ֖׳׳ה עֲב֑וֹר וַֽיַּעֲמֹד֙ בְּמָק֣וֹם צָ֔ר אֲשֶׁ֛ר אֵֽין־דֶּ֥רֶךְ לִנְט֖וֹת יָמִ֥ין וּשְׂמֹֽאול׃ וַתֵּ֤רֶא הָֽאָתוֹן֙ אֶת־מַלְאַ֣ךְ יְהוָ֔''ה וַתִּרְבַּ֖ץ תַּ֣חַת בִּלְעָ֑ם וַיִּֽחַר־אַ֣ף בִּלְעָ֔ם וַיַּ֥ךְ אֶת־הָאָת֖וֹן בַּמַּקֵּֽל׃ וַיִּפְתַּ֥ח יהוָ֖''ה אֶת־פִּ֣י הָאָת֑וֹן וַתֹּ֤אמֶר לְבִלְעָם֙ מֶה־עָשִׂ֣יתִֽי לְךָ֔ כִּ֣י הִכִּיתַ֔נִי זֶ֖ה שָׁלֹ֥שׁ רְגָלִֽים׃ וַיֹּ֤אמֶר בִּלְעָם֙ לָֽאָת֔וֹן כִּ֥י הִתְעַלַּ֖לְתְּ בִּ֑י ל֤וּ יֶשׁ־חֶ֙רֶב֙ בְּיָדִ֔י כִּ֥י עַתָּ֖ה הֲרַגְתִּֽיךְ׃ וַתֹּ֨אמֶר הָאָת֜וֹן אֶל־בִּלְעָ֗ם הֲלוֹא֩ אָנֹכִ֨י אֲתֹֽנְךָ֜ אֲשֶׁר־רָכַ֣בְתָּ עָלַ֗י מֵעֽוֹדְךָ֙ עַד־הַיּ֣וֹם הַזֶּ֔ה הַֽהַסְכֵּ֣ן הִסְכַּ֔נְתִּי לַעֲשׂ֥וֹת לְךָ֖ כֹּ֑ה וַיֹּ֖אמֶר לֹֽא׃ וַיְגַ֣ל יהו׳׳ה֮ אֶת־עֵינֵ֣י בִלְעָם֒ וַיַּ֞רְא אֶת־מַלְאַ֤ךְ יְהֹוָה֙ נִצָּ֣ב בַּדֶּ֔רֶךְ וְחַרְבּ֥וֹ שְׁלֻפָ֖ה בְּיָד֑וֹ וַיִּקֹּ֥ד וַיִּשְׁתַּ֖חוּ לְאַפָּֽיו׃ וַיֹּ֤אמֶר אֵלָיו֙ מַלְאַ֣ךְ יהוָ֔׳׳ה עַל־מָ֗ה הִכִּ֙יתָ֙ אֶת־אֲתֹ֣נְךָ֔ זֶ֖ה שָׁל֣וֹשׁ רְגָלִ֑ים הִנֵּ֤ה אָנֹכִי֙ יָצָ֣אתִי לְשָׂטָ֔ן כִּֽי־יָרַ֥ט הַדֶּ֖רֶךְ לְנֶגְדִּֽי׃ | [A]n angel of YHVH stood in the way to inhibit him.... The donkey saw the angel of YHVH in the way, sword drawn in hand. The donkey turned from the path and went into a field; Bilam struck the donkey to turn her back onto the path. The angel of YHVH stood in the vineyard, a fence on each side. When the donkey saw the angel of YHVH, she pushed herself to a wall, crushing Bilam's foot against the wall – and he struck her again. The angel of YHVH went ahead to a narrow place where there was no way to turn right or left. When the donkey saw the angel of YHVH, she collapsed under Bilam. Bilam got angry and hit the donkey with a staff. YHVH opened the donkey's mouth and she said to Bilam, "What did I do that you hit me these three times?" He said to the donkey, "You mocked me! If I had a sword in my hand, I'd kill you now." The donkey said to Bilam, "Am I not the same donkey you rode ever since I was yours until today? Did I ever act like this?" He said, "No." YHVH revealed to Bilam's eyes so he'd see the angel of YHVH, sword drawn in hand. Bilam bowed his head and fell on his face. The angel of YHVH said to him, "Why did you strike your donkey these three times? It was Me who went to inhibit [you], for your way was perverse before Me." |
When's the last time a donkey chatted you up after crushing your foot and then pinning you so you couldn't move? If not, try this: Have you ever been so insistent on your path, your way of being or your rightness that you couldn't see what was in front of your face? Looking back, did you come to see something different only once you were stuck and had no choice? Did the momentum of your life need to be stopped so it could change for the better?
Something kept trying to stop Bilam's journey, but he was too stubborn to see. Only after he got stuck – and after all his pained reactions to being stuck – would he see. There is none so blind as one who will not see. Sometimes it takes pain and being laid low to open our eyes. Sometimes only a brick wall will stop our momentum.
Which means that pain, being stuck and our reactions to them – sometimes profoundly unpleasant as they may be – can be part of a longer process of becoming, even revelation.
It's not that that life's every hurt is always a redirection much less a divinely inspired one. And it's certainly not that our stubbornness or blindness is the cause of every misfortune. Rather, Torah comes to teach that a larger life process can begin as a "no," a pinch, a brick wall in our way, being stuck in the mud – and all our sharp reactions to them. This evolutionary process is sacred, as is our ability to respond in ways that redirect our lives for the good. It's lemonade theology: wherever life's lemons come from, our capacity to make lemonade is holy.
With Bilam now paying attention, God redeployed him from cursing Israel to blessing them. From Bilam's mouth would come the famous words of Numbers 24:5: מַה־טֹּ֥בוּ אֹהָלֶ֖יךָ יַעֲקֹ֑ב מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶ֖יךָ יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ / "How good are your tents, Yaakov, your dwelling places, Israel."
The "Devil" We Know?
Let's revisit the מלאך יהו׳׳ה / "angel of YHVH" ("messenger") who inhibited Bilam's journey that he never should have taken. Torah's word for "inhibit" or “be adverse” is לְשָׂטַן – "to Satan."
This Torah portion introduces the word Satan – and it's a verb, not a noun. The Jewish "devil we know" is no "devil" at all but a divine force of redirection – a sacred "no," a block on a road we shouldn't travel, a plan that doesn't work because it shouldn’t. Jewish tradition even called Bilam's "Satan" an “angel of mercy” come to keep him from trouble.
Something kept trying to stop Bilam's journey, but he was too stubborn to see. Only after he got stuck – and after all his pained reactions to being stuck – would he see. There is none so blind as one who will not see. Sometimes it takes pain and being laid low to open our eyes. Sometimes only a brick wall will stop our momentum.
Which means that pain, being stuck and our reactions to them – sometimes profoundly unpleasant as they may be – can be part of a longer process of becoming, even revelation.
It's not that that life's every hurt is always a redirection much less a divinely inspired one. And it's certainly not that our stubbornness or blindness is the cause of every misfortune. Rather, Torah comes to teach that a larger life process can begin as a "no," a pinch, a brick wall in our way, being stuck in the mud – and all our sharp reactions to them. This evolutionary process is sacred, as is our ability to respond in ways that redirect our lives for the good. It's lemonade theology: wherever life's lemons come from, our capacity to make lemonade is holy.
With Bilam now paying attention, God redeployed him from cursing Israel to blessing them. From Bilam's mouth would come the famous words of Numbers 24:5: מַה־טֹּ֥בוּ אֹהָלֶ֖יךָ יַעֲקֹ֑ב מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶ֖יךָ יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ / "How good are your tents, Yaakov, your dwelling places, Israel."
The "Devil" We Know?
Let's revisit the מלאך יהו׳׳ה / "angel of YHVH" ("messenger") who inhibited Bilam's journey that he never should have taken. Torah's word for "inhibit" or “be adverse” is לְשָׂטַן – "to Satan."
This Torah portion introduces the word Satan – and it's a verb, not a noun. The Jewish "devil we know" is no "devil" at all but a divine force of redirection – a sacred "no," a block on a road we shouldn't travel, a plan that doesn't work because it shouldn’t. Jewish tradition even called Bilam's "Satan" an “angel of mercy” come to keep him from trouble.
So how did Satan evolve from noun to verb, from a merciful power of redirection to the evil red thing with a pitchfork?
Long after Torah, the Book of Job depicted Satan as a named angel but still loyal to God, still acting for a holy cause. From the Greek translation, διάβολος (diabolos) fueled Christianity's "diabolical" Satan opposing God. This step fulfilled early Christianity's idea of splitting good and truth (God) from evil and falsehood (not God), which is how Satan became diabolos ("devil") – evil incarnate. Satan became an angel jettisoned from heaven before humanity's "Fall" from the Garden of Eden due to "Original Sin" – concepts foreign to Judaism.
Islam continued Christianity's evil Satan but put Christianity's "Original Sin" on Satan rather than humanity. In Islam, شَيْطَان / shaytan (Satan) became a troop of angels led by إِبْلِيسْ / Iblis, who refused God's command to bow before Adam in the Garden. God expelled Iblis from heaven and Iblis vowed to foil God by tempting human souls and populating “hell” (Qur’an 7).
These Christian and Islamic views came full-circle into medieval Judaism. Midrash would re-imagine "Satan" as the snake that tempted Eve, and the bad boy who tempted Noah to drink his way out of the Ark. But in Judaism's 3,500-year trajectory, these are relatively new ideas.
The original Jewish "devil we know" is not evil or false, but the sacred call to release our egoic stubbornness to ask whether an obstacle suggests a different purpose for our journey. Does a roadblock mean we shouldn’t go a certain way? What if we see confounding opposition in life as a malakh (messenger) whose message we need – precisely if we don't want it?
These sacred questions don't ask us to retreat from challenge but rather to open our hearts, minds and eyes to the possibility of that life's inevitable times of challenge, roadblock and "no" might be redirection or spiritual alchemy. That’s the kind of “devil” we all ought to know.
Long after Torah, the Book of Job depicted Satan as a named angel but still loyal to God, still acting for a holy cause. From the Greek translation, διάβολος (diabolos) fueled Christianity's "diabolical" Satan opposing God. This step fulfilled early Christianity's idea of splitting good and truth (God) from evil and falsehood (not God), which is how Satan became diabolos ("devil") – evil incarnate. Satan became an angel jettisoned from heaven before humanity's "Fall" from the Garden of Eden due to "Original Sin" – concepts foreign to Judaism.
Islam continued Christianity's evil Satan but put Christianity's "Original Sin" on Satan rather than humanity. In Islam, شَيْطَان / shaytan (Satan) became a troop of angels led by إِبْلِيسْ / Iblis, who refused God's command to bow before Adam in the Garden. God expelled Iblis from heaven and Iblis vowed to foil God by tempting human souls and populating “hell” (Qur’an 7).
These Christian and Islamic views came full-circle into medieval Judaism. Midrash would re-imagine "Satan" as the snake that tempted Eve, and the bad boy who tempted Noah to drink his way out of the Ark. But in Judaism's 3,500-year trajectory, these are relatively new ideas.
The original Jewish "devil we know" is not evil or false, but the sacred call to release our egoic stubbornness to ask whether an obstacle suggests a different purpose for our journey. Does a roadblock mean we shouldn’t go a certain way? What if we see confounding opposition in life as a malakh (messenger) whose message we need – precisely if we don't want it?
These sacred questions don't ask us to retreat from challenge but rather to open our hearts, minds and eyes to the possibility of that life's inevitable times of challenge, roadblock and "no" might be redirection or spiritual alchemy. That’s the kind of “devil” we all ought to know.
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