Balak (Psalms)

The Poetics of Prophecy

It’s difficult to find any specific psalm that relates to the story of Bil’am: his name is not mentioned anywhere in the 150 psalms of the Psalter; even the “historical” psalms, such as Ps 78 or 105, that recount the history of the people Israel during the Exodus and through the years of wandering in the desert, don’t mention this week’s incident, but tend rather to focus on the shortcomings of the Jewish people from “within,” and don’t take the unusual outsider’s view that we find in this week’s parsha.

Thus, in lieu of a discussion of some psalm chosen arbitrarily, I will say a few words about the poetics of Bil’am’s vision. The climax of this Torah lection comes, after Bil’am is hired by King Balak of Moab to curse Israel and to use his magical powers to assure their defeat and downfall, when Bil’am, after suitable ritual preparations of building altars and offering sacrifices thereon, utters a series of three prophetic visions. In these, rather than cursing and denigrating Israel, he instead sings their praises in enthusiastic terms. Each of the three sections (Num 23:7-10; 18-24; and 24: 2-9; plus a parting prophecy about the destiny of Israel and the various nations surrounding it, in 24: 15-24) begins with the words vayisa meshalo vayomar (“and he lifted up his saying parable and said”).

The pattern of the three is simple: in each one the blessing of Israel becomes progressively stronger, as does the degree of prophetic vision. Thus, in the first one, 23:7ff., uttered at Bamot Ba’al, he begins with a matter-of-fact description of the circumstances: that Balak had called him from Aram, “from the ancient hills,” to curse Jacob and Israel—but he finds himself making a simple, almost matter-of-fact denial of this possibility: How can he curse those whom God has not cursed (v. 8); his perspective, at this stage, is of simple seeing: “For I see them from the tops of the rocky cliffs, and from the hills I gaze upon them” and goes on to report, in a simple way, what he sees: that they are a people who dwell apart; that their numbers are beyond counting; and a brief personal prayer: “May I die the death of the upright, and may my end by like theirs” (10b). In brief, at this stage his “seeing” is entirely within the realm of the natural (about fifty years ago an American Jewish theologian, Arthur A. Cohen, wrote a book entitled The Natural and the Supernatural Jew)—that is, even on the natural level, in terms of what can be perceived in ordinary sociological, cultural, and political categories, the Jews are somehow special, different, don’t fall into the usual expected categories or rules of behavior that govern the history of other nations; they stand apart, are not “reckoned” among the other nations. Interestingly, in this first speech there is only a passing reference to God.

In the second, and longest poem, that at Sedeh Zofim (vv. 18-24), begins with an invocation to Balak to listen carefully. Here, the message is largely religious: that God is with Israel; that, unlike a human being, God does not disappoint or change his mind; rather, He speaks and fulfills his word (v. 19). This is also the turning point in Bil’am’s relation with his client, Balak: “I have ‘taken’ a blessing, and I will bless and not turn back” (v. 20). That is, he can no longer offer even a pretext of fulfilling his original charge, because the blessing is something that is “taken” (i.e., thrust upon him?), and he cannot falsify it. The comments about Israel here are no longer about things visible to the eye in a concrete way, but deal with spiritual and moral qualities: “No iniquity has been seen in Jacob…” (v. 21a); “the Lord their God is with him…” (21b); “there is no magic in Jacob, nor enchantment in Israel” (23). This section concludes with several animal metaphors that, interestingly, are repeated almost verbatim in the third song: that God took them out of Egypt “like the horns of a stag to them” (22b) and that they are “a people who rise up like a lion, who do not lie down till they have eaten their prey” (24)—in other words, that they are fierce, persistent, and invincible warriors.

The third prophecy begins with a lengthy introduction in which Bil’am describes the transformation that has he has undergone: “the speech / address of … the man whose eyes had been shut eyes.” But now, “hears the word of God, and sees a vision of the Almighty, fallen down and with open eyes” (24:3-4). A prophetic, tactile, vision. Not only have his eyes been opened (a phrase like that of a man who has undergone a conversion experience of some sort, a phrase such as might be used to describe a life-changing insight or altered consciousness), but that he has also experienced an overwhelming visionary experience, a powerful mystic, prophetic vision, an epiphany of the sort that is reminiscent only of the experience of Moses in the cleft of the rock, and perhaps one or two prophets, like Isaiah and Ezekiel. He then bursts into a song of unqualified praise for Israel: not only of what he can see from simple observation and into of what he knows of their righteousness and connection to God, and that God vouches for them, but that “their tents are beautiful… flowing streams like gardens alongside rivers, like beds of spices, like tall cedars” (vv. 5–7a). Then, changing tone, blessing his royal house, that his king will be even greater even than Agag (why is that figure chosen?). Verses 18-19, as mentioned, repeat several of the themes in the previous songs: the stag, the lion, but this time “he will crouch down like a young lion whom none [but himself, presumably] can lift up.” (compare both these to the description of Judah in Gen 49:9 ).