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July 16/05 —
Shabbat Balak: Harry Potter Daze is Here Again!
Commentary by
Rabbi Lawrence Pinsker
Get
ready for the arrival of another blockbuster as a new volume in the
Harry Potter series is released this Shabbat, July 16th!
With
each installment of the adventures of Harry Potter and his friends
Hermoine and Ron, an entire generation of children are learning that
handling great power (symbolized by the magic skills being learned
at Hogwarts School of Wizardry) requires maturity, reason, and a
well-honed sense of responsibility to one’s fellow humans and other
living creatures. Like all good fantasies, the Harry Potter books
explore a universal human truth: everything we know can be turned
either to good ends or else to harm and destruction.
The
world of the Hogwarts School exists apart from our own in a kind of
parallel universe. We who live in a world where magic and the
supernatural are not part of our daily existence nevertheless remain
fascinated by them.
This
week’s Torah portion explores similar territory. The Torah tells us
that animals talk, spirits appear, and God speaks to Bilaam, a
non-Jewish prophet who employs enchantments and invokes curses and
blessings. In the biblical world, people believe in the power of
spoken blessings and curses. By reputation, Bilaam is a major
success: his words reliably bring desired results. What is cursed is
truly cursed and falls apart; and what is blessed is truly blessed
and thrives.
We know
the outcome of Bilaam’s story: God puts blessings instead of curses
into Bilaam’s mouth. This infuriates Balak, the king who has hired
Bilaam to curse the advancing Israelites. Balak cooperates with
Bilaam three times, but each time Bilaam blesses the Israelites
rather than cursing them.
At a
minimum, what we learn from Bilaam is that words have power over the
human spirit and human deeds. When we use words to bless or to
curse, we have to be very careful. Sometimes what we say that seems
good may actually be equivocal or ambivalent. For example, at the
very beginning of Bilaam’s blessings, he describes Israel this way:
“Heyn am l’vadad yishkon”— “Behold, it is a people that will
dwell alone.” Does this mean that the Jewish people are separated
from other nations by fate and by our covenant with God? Or does it
mean that our people’s strength and security depend on our living in
isolation from others? Is our strength that we simply are different
from other nations? The biblical and linguistic contexts of Bilaam’s
remarks offer us no clue as to how to answer these questions.
Overlooking the Israelite encampment from a height, Bilaam remarks:
“Lo Nachash b’Yaakov v’lo kesem b’Yisrael”—“There is no
divination in Jacob and no magic in Israel.” God has forbidden us to
use the magical instruments employed by the rest of the ancient
world, so that the future depends on how we conduct ourselves within
the assurances of God’s covenant.
The
world of magic fascinates us, but it is imaginary. At best, it
demonstrates the power of words and sheds light on our fears and
hopes. Look at how events in London less than two weeks ago were set
in motion by a war of words that embody clashing ideas, ideals, and
beliefs. In reading Bilaam or Harry Potter, we become acutely aware
of how words can move others to hope or despair, to action or
helplessness.
And
perhaps there is some enduring magic in the words of another of
Bilaam’s declarations, which are still recited as the opening of
morning services in synagogues all over the world: “Mah Tovu
Ohalechah Yaakov mishk’notechah Yisrael—How goodly are your
tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel.”
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