Origin, Explanation, and Meaning

Rabbi Joel Fleekop

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Just a few days ago Americans across the country gathered in parks, on beaches, and as has become possible in more recent years, in front of their television sets to celebrate the 4th of July by watching a fireworks show. These pyrotechnic shows are, for the most part, choreographed to the music of patriotic songs ranging from Irving Berlin’s classic “God Bless America” to Neil Diamond’s “Coming to America.” And of course, almost every fireworks show includes the playing of the Star Spangled Banner.

The choice of this song is most appropriate, not only because it is our national anthem but because the exploding fireworks so vividly recall the Battle of Baltimore and the shelling of Fort McHenry, the images that inspired Francis Scott Key to write his now famous poem.

Written by Key while temporarily detained aboard a British prison ship, the story behind the words of the Star Spangled Banner quickly became well known. When published the poem was well received and gained widespread popularity when set to the music that is now so familiar.

Over time, the music of our anthem has become almost as hallowed as the words. Surely the playing of its notes will bring tears to more than one athlete next month in Beijing. But the origin of the anthem’s score is more surprising and certainly less inspiring than its words. The notes come from a popular 18th century drinking song.

Of course, the music for our national anthem is not the only thing to come from an unexpectedly modest source.

Many of the prayers we offer during worship services are taken from the TaNaKh, the Hebrew Bible. These prayers include, like the Shema and V’ahavta, divine instructions calling upon us to observe our sacred traditions, the celebratory words of our ancestors, like those found in the Mi Chamocha, and the beautiful poetry of the Psalmists that fills so much of our prayer book. But in addition to these likely biblical sources, we also include in our morning worship the words of the bible’s only sorcerer for hire, its only spiritual hit man, Bilaam.

Mah Tovu Ohalecha Ya’akov, Mishkenotecha Yisrael. How lovely are your tents O Jacob, your dwelling places O Israel. These are the words Bilaam uses to begin his third curse of the Israelites, a curse, which like the previous two became a blessing.

Today those words are part of our morning worship, sung daily, as we did this morning. But what do these words, which come from such an unexpected source, really mean?

The explanations offered by the rabbis largely depends on what they imagine Bilaam seeing as he looked down from a cliff at the Israelites below.

Using several midrashim as his source, Rabbi Joseph H. Hertz teaches that when looking upon the Israelites tents, Bilaam saw in a vision all the beautiful schools and synagogues that the Jewish people would build in future centuries, schools and synagogues which, as Bilaam recognized, ensured a holy future for the Israelites and their descendents. Today the words of the Mah Tovu often adorn the walls of sanctuaries and schools, a practice based in understanding Bilaam’s words as praise for the institutions that serve as centers for the Jewish community, our Ohalim – our tents of Torah, and our Mishkenot, our sanctuaries of prayer.

But the image Rabbi Hertz offers, of Bilaam seeing ornate synagogues and busy schools is not the only one suggested by our tradition. The Talmud, Masechet Baba Batra 60a, teaches that the inspiring vision Bilaam had was not of communal institutions, but rather domestic life. The sages teach Bilaam’s motivation for blessing the Israelites was the morality with which he saw them lead their lives; a morality exemplified by the positioning of their tents. According to the Talmud, the tents were arranged so that no two doors faced one another, thus granting each family the privacy, modesty, and dignity they deserve.

The tradition offers vastly different understandings of what Bilaam saw when looking at the Israelites, and thus vastly different understandings of what the words of his curse, that became a blessing, really mean. Perhaps, this disparity exists within the tradition because neither interpretation is complete – neither fully captures what is good about living a Jewish life.

Only when the different explanations of Mah Tovu are read together, only when one combines the institutions and traditions of Jewish community with an individual responsibility to live a moral life does one capture what it truly means to live one’s life in the goodly tents of Judaism.

Hannah and Robbie, this morning, in becoming Bar and Bat Mitzvah, you take the first step in setting your own tents amongst those of the Jewish people. The hard work you have put in to reach this point is the equivalent of driving your first tent peg into the ground. It is our prayer that you will continue to feel at home in the synagogues and institutions of the Jewish world, that there you will find the support and friendships you need to firmly affix your tents. And we also pray that as students of Torah, you will continue to gain and live the values that will make your tents, your future homes a place of blessing.

As we learn in this week’s Torah portion, the words of what we today call the Mah Tovu were first spoken by a sorcerer of questionable character. But like the melody of our national anthem, the prayers unusual origins are of little consequence. What matters is the meaning and value that has been instilled in these ancient words over generations and which we instill today. May the singing of Mah Tovu be a reminder for Hannah and Robbie of this special morning, and may it be a reminder for all of us of the beautiful synagogues and schools, as well as Jewish homes, we are called on to support, and build, and nourish

Shabbat Shalom.