One of the many cherished customs observed at Sephardic weddings is the singing of “Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov…” at the huppah. These famous words are found in Parashat Balak (Bamidbar 24:5), which we read this month, and were, ironically, spoken by one of the earliest and most notorious Jew-haters of all time – Bilam, a gentile prophet who sought to annihilate the Jewish Nation by placing a curse on them.
Bilam was summoned by Balak, the king of Moav, a nation whose neighbor – the Emorites – attacked Beneh Yisrael who responded by resoundingly defeating them and seizing their land. Balak feared – irrationally – that Beneh Yisrael would invade Moav, too (despite the fact that Beneh Yisrael had no intention of doing so, and gave Balak no indication that this was their plan). He therefore hired Bilam to place a curse on them and destroy them. Bilam, an avowed and passionate Jew-hater, happily accepted the invitation, which also came with the promise of a generous financial reward. The plan, however, backfired, as each time Bilam sought to curse Beneh Yisrael with his prophetic powers, Gd placed in his mouth beautiful blessings – including “Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov, mishkenotecha Yisrael – How good are you tents, Yaakov; your dwelling places, Yisrael.”
If we were asked to explain the reason for the custom to sing this verse at weddings, we would likely respond, very simply, that it speaks of the unique splendor of the Jewish home, and so we wish the new couple that they will succeed in building a beautiful home that would reflect the quality which Bilam praised.
This is certainly correct, but, if we probe a bit deeper, we will uncover an additional dimension to the relevance of “Mah tovu…” to the wedding ceremony.
An Ancient Wall
We begin with what at first appears as a trivial detail of the Bilam story – a detail so trivial, in fact, that we might have wondered why the Torah bothers mentioning it at all.
As Bilam made his way toward Moav, Gd sent an angel to discourage Bilam from going on this mission. The angel made itself visible only to Bilam’s donkey – but not to Bilam himself – and on three occasions, it obstructed the road. The second time, the donkey veered to the side to avoid the angel, crushing Bilam’s leg against the wall at the roadside (22:25).
Notably, the Torah refers to this wall with the definitive article “ha-“ (“the”) – “el hakir,” as though this was some kind of special wall that we would know about. What distinctive, famous wall was there along the road from Aram Naharayim, in Mesopotamia, and Moav?
Adding to the enigma is a comment by Rashi to the previous verse telling us that the fence along the sides of the road which Bilam traveled was made from stones. Why did Rashi find this worth mentioning? Would it have mattered to us if it had been made from brick or wood?
The answer is found in a passage in the Midrash Tanhuma, which traces the background to this story back to the times of our patriarchs.
Yaakov Avinu spent 20 years in the home of his uncle, Lavan, marrying his two daughters and building a large family and a large fortune. When Yaakov finally decided it was time to leave, and set off toward the Land of Israel in the middle of the night, Lavan pursued him and his family. Lavan’s intentions become clear in light of a vision he beheld the night before he caught up to Yaakov, in which Gd warned him not to cause him any harm (Beresheet 31:24). It is clear that Lavan wanted to kill Yaakov and his family. Ultimately, however, Yaakov and Lavan made a truce, and they formed a pile of stones as a symbol of their pact. They declared that if either of them would pass this pile of stones to harm the other, he would be in violation of this truce.
Fascinatingly, the Midrash teaches that this pile of stones was the wall alongside which Bilam traveled, and against which his leg was crushed. Bilam, the Midrash states, violated the oath by crossing this this wall, this boundary, to annihilate Yaakov’s descendants – because Bilam was actually none other than Lavan himself.
This point is further developed by the Arizal, who writes that Bilam was a gilgul – reincarnation – of Lavan’s soul. This explains the numerous similarities between them. Both Lavan and Bilam deceitfully appeared righteous but were in truth evil. Both sought to annihilate Am Yisrael – Lavan, by killing Yaakov and his family, thereby preventing the creation of Am Yisrael; and Bilam, by placing a curse upon them. Both men received a nocturnal prophecy from Gd instructing them not to carry out their plan. And both men originate from a place called Aram. Not surprisingly, they shared these features, because they possessed the same soul. Hence, Bilam violated his own promise by crossing the pile of stones to attempt to destroy Beneh Yisrael, for which he was punished, as the donkey moved against the wall as Lavan rode on its back.
This is why the Torah tells us about “hakir” – this special wall, and why Rashi found it necessary to explain that it was built from stones. This point is crucial for the story, placing Bilam’s journey in a broader historical context, and presenting it as the continuation of Bilam’s attempts during his former life – as Lavan – to destroy Yaakov and prevent the emergence of the Jewish Nation.
When Evil Backfires
This connection between Lavan and Bilam sheds light on the pronouncement of “Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov…”
In one of the more emotional segments of the Haggadah that we read at the seder on Pesach, we chant that in every generation, enemies rise to annihilate us, “vehaKadosh Baruch Hu matzilenu miyadam – But the Almighty rescues us from their hand.”
Some commentators noted the deeper meaning of the word “miyadam” (“from their hand”) in this passage. It means that Gd rescues us with the hands of our enemies. The very efforts that they make to destroy us end up bringing us our salvation, and helping us endure, thrive and prosper.
There is perhaps no greater example of this backfiring of Jew-hatred than Lavan. Lavan wanted to prevent our nation from being established – but he was actually the one who built it! His two daughters, and the two maidservants whom he gave his daughters, produced the 12 tribes of Israel. Nobody did more for the growth of the Jewish Nation than the person who hated the Jewish Nation more than anyone!
This irony forms the backdrop of Bilam’s exclamation, “Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov.” At that moment, when Gd compelled Bilam to bless rather than curse, to look favorably and lovingly upon Beneh Yisrael, he saw the thousands of homes, the endless rows of tents, the beautiful, happy Jewish families, and recognized that he – in his previous life – created all this. He saw these tents and exclaimed, “Look at what I built! Look at this incredible nation which I brought into existence!”
This proclamation might be the most embarrassing admission of failure in all human history. Bilam conceded that he not only failed to stop the emergence of Am Yisrael – but he is the one who facilitated its emergence! He proclaimed “Mah Tovu” to confess that his scheme backfired spectacularly, that he ended up building the nation that he tried to ensure would never exist.
The Greatest Response to Jew-Hatred
Once we understand this, we understand just what a powerful moment it is when “Mah tovu” is sung at a Jewish wedding.
At this moment, we think of Haman, of Ferdinand and Isabella, of Hitler, of Hamas, Hezbollah and the Iranian regime, of all those who have tried to eradicate us throughout the millennia, and all those who spread malicious lies about the Jewish State and the Jewish People – and we recall Bilam’s thunderous concession of defeat. As a bride and groom stand together to begin building a new Jewish home, we bring to mind Bilam’s failure, and the continued failure of all those who have sought or seek our destruction. We look to the beaming, exuberant couple as our greatest response to the hostility shown to us, as the greatest revenge we can possible take against those who have persecuted us, and so we invoke the blessing of Bilam, which captures more poignantly than anything else the futility of the efforts to destroy the Jewish Nation.
In the face of the alarming rise of Jew-hatred in our time, this centuries’-old Sephardic custom teaches us what our response should be – building more beautiful Jewish homes, more “tents” and “dwelling places” that are worthy of Bilam’s effusive praise and admiration. If our adversaries are taking to the streets and to social media to spew hatred and to support the terrorists seeking Israel’s annihilation, let us respond by redoubling our efforts to make shidduchim, to bring Jewish singles together, to create more Jewish families. And let us recommit ourselves to enhance our homes – with greater shalom bayit (domestic peace), with greater respect for and selfless devotion to one another, with more Torah, with more sanctity, and with more happy, beautiful Jewish children.
As our enemies increase their efforts to destroy, we must increase our efforts to build.
May we continue to see the downfall of “Bilam” in all his manifestations, and may Hashem bless us with more weddings, more children, and more happiness, amen.