Balak, King of Moav, is in morbid fear of the Bnei Yisrael. He summons a renowned sorcerer named Bilaam to curse them. First, G-d speaks to Bilaam and forbids him to go. But, because Bilaam is so insistent, G-d appears to him a second time and permits him to go. While en route, a malach (emissary from G-d) blocks Bilaam's donkey's path. Unable to contain his frustration, Bilaam strikes the donkey each time it stops or tries to detour. Miraculously, the donkey speaks, asking Bilaam why he is hitting her. The malach instructs Bilaam regarding what he is permitted to say and what he is forbidden to say about the Jewish People. When Bilaam arrives, King Balak makes elaborate preparations, hoping that Bilaam will succeed in the curse. Three times Bilaam attempts to curse, and three times blessings are issued instead. Balak, seeing that Bilaam has failed, sends him home in disgrace. The Bnei Yisrael begin sinning with the Moabite women and worshipping the Moabite idols, and they are punished with a plague. One of the Jewish leaders brazenly brings a Midianite princess into his tent, in full view of Moshe and the people. Pinchas, a grandson of Aharon, grabs a spear and kills both evildoers. This act brings an end to the plague — but not before 24,000 people died.

The laws of the Parah Adumah, the Red Heifer, are detailed. These laws are for the ritual purification of one who comes into contact with death. After nearly 40 years in the desert, Miriam dies and is buried at Kadesh. The people complain about the loss of their water supply that until now has been provided miraculously in the merit of Miriam's righteousness. Aharon and Moshe pray for the people's welfare. Hashem commands them to gather the nation at Merivah and speak to a designated rock so that water will flow forth. Distressed by the people's lack of faith, Moshe hits the rock instead of speaking to it. He thus fails to produce the intended public demonstration of Hashem's mastery over the world, which would have resulted had the rock produced water merely at Moshe's word. Therefore, Hashem tells Moshe and Aharon that they will not bring the people into the Land. The Jewish People resume their travels, but because the King of Edom, a descendant of Esav, denies them passage through his country, they do not travel the most direct route to Eretz Yisrael. When they reach Mount Hor, Aharon dies and his son Elazar is invested with his priestly garments and responsibilities. Aharon was beloved by all, and the entire nation mourns him for 30 days. Sichon, the Amorite, attacks Bnei Yisrael when they ask to pass through his land. As a result, Bnei Yisrael conquer the lands that Sichon had previously seized from the Amonites on the east bank of the Jordan River.

PARSHA INSIGHTS

I’m Kadosh

“How good are your tents, O Yaakov, your dwelling places, O Yisrael!” (24:5)

My friend Rabbi Leib Kelemen once described a bus journey with his son from Yerushalyim to Netanya. Nearing the outskirts of Netanya, his nine-year old son, whose name was Kadosh, needed to use the bathroom. Rabbi Kelemen ran up to the bus driver and asked him if he could stop for his son to relieve himself, but the bus driver just shrugged. Going back to his son, Rabbi Kelemen told him he would have to wait.

The minutes passed, and the son was shifting in his seat trying to control his urge as it grew stronger. Finally, they reached the bus station in Netanya, and none too soon! They jumped down from the bus and sprinted to the rest rooms, which were closed for repairs!

They rushed out onto the street and ran. Suddenly, they passed a pub. Rabbi Kelemen looked inside, and so indeed did his son. He said “Okay! Let’s go in here!” Looking through the glass at the denizens of the pub, a motley bunch of boozers, his son said, “But Daddy, what is this place?” “It’s a pub.” “What’s a pub?” his son asked. So, Rabbi Kelemen explained what a pub is. “It’s a Beit Marzeach.” “But Daddy,” said the little boy, “I can’t go in here. I’m Kadosh!”

Nearly forty years ago, I remember walking out of a so-called “art film" feeling that I needed to take a shower. I wasn’t religious at the time, but the pintele yid inside me was revolted by what the secular world trumpets as “significant art.” If we would only realize that our souls are hewn from the holiest place in existence. If we would truly understand that even though our feet are walking on the sidewalk, our souls reach up to the highest places in existence. If we know how noble we are, how royal we are, and how lowly and empty are the baubles of the secular world, we would then surely all turn away and say, “I can’t look at that – I’m Kadosh!”