In Parashat Balak, we encounter one of the Torah’s most ironic moments: a non-Jewish prophet, Bilaam, is summoned by a fearful king to curse the Jewish people — and instead, he blesses them. Despite his intentions, Bilaam finds himself proclaiming:
“מַה-טֹּבוּ אֹהָלֶיךָ יַעֲקֹב, מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל”
“How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel!”
There is something deeply powerful in this moment: truth bursting forth despite fear, hatred, and political maneuvering. Bilaam, who comes to see Israel through a lens of suspicion and hostility, ends up seeing beauty, order, and divine presence.
Today, in Israel, we find ourselves at a crossroads of fear and faith, surrounded not by ancient Moabites but by modern-day threats — from hostile neighbors to global campaigns of misinformation and boycott. Once again, there are voices, even from within, who question, critique, and attempt to delegitimize the Jewish state and the Jewish spirit.
And yet, like Bilaam’s unintended prophecy, the truth about Israel continues to shine through the fog.
Bilaam’s journey teaches us about the importance of vision. He climbs mountain after mountain, looking for the right angle to curse — but each time, he sees only blessing. Why? Because he is forced to see Israel as they truly are — a people who dwell in tents of humility and strength, who strive for justice, compassion, and sanctity.
In today’s Israel, amidst the smoke of conflict and global confusion, those who dare to look honestly can see a country that continues to lead in innovation, morality in warfare, resilience in trauma, and unity in the face of danger. Like Bilaam, one cannot help but be struck by the impossible vitality of this nation.
Balak, the Moabite king, was driven by fear, not facts. He saw the Israelites as a threat simply for existing. His irrational fear led him to seek spiritual weapons. This is not unlike what we see today: those who demonize Israel often rely not on what Israel does, but on what they represent — freedom, memory, continuity, and divine promise.
The Jewish people must respond not only with weapons and defense, but with values. Like our ancestors, we stand not because we are the strongest, but because we are rooted in something eternal — brit, covenant. That is our shield.
The most profound message of Parashat Balak is this: what is intended for harm can be transformed into a source of strength.
In recent months, with increasing pressures — politically, militarily, and emotionally — Israel has shown the world what it means to turn hardship into holiness. Families of hostages have turned grief into activism. Soldiers have turned fear into courage. Communities under fire have opened their homes and hearts to one another.
Just as Bilaam’s curses became blessings, so too do the trials of today offer us the opportunity to grow, to unite, and to find the deeper meaning of our national mission.
Parashat Balak invites us to see Israel not through the lens of our enemies, nor through the confusion of the media — but with the eyes of truth. When we look with clarity, we see a people chosen not for privilege but for purpose. A nation living out ancient values in modern times. A country that, like Jacob’s tents, remains good — not perfect, but good — in its essence, its spirit, and its direction.
May we merit to be among those who bless Israel with open eyes, open hearts, and unwavering commitment. And may the curses of our time — war, hate, division — be transformed, like in Bilaam’s day, into blessings of peace, unity, and redemption.