One day late in July, 1967, following the Six Day War, my family and I stood on Mt. Gilo. The mount had been the site of a Jordanian army base from which only a few weeks before, Jerusalem had been bombarded. The city stretched out before us in all its beauty. All seemed peaceful and calm.

Through our binoculars, we caught a glimpse of our home on Hagedud Haivri Street. Only then did we shudder at the thought of what might have occurred. Actually, Hapalmach Street had been damaged by mortar fire, and several houses in our area were struck. But these shots might have come from the Old City. On that sunny day in 1967, however, with the exception of a few, seemingly slow-moving, silent vehicles, the whole scene was one of pastoral tranquility. I could imagine Bilaam standing beside us and calling out,

“How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your abodes, O Israel.”

I knew that this picture was belied by what was actually happening below. Jerusalem was its true self, a bee-hive of frenetic activity, disquiet and often dispute. To gain a proper perspective on the underlying but only potential beauty of the Jewish collectivity, one always has to distance oneself from the facts of its current behavior. In today’s Haftorah, Micah, like his fellow prophets, berates his people for its sinfulness but holds out hope for its ultimate redemption. He points to the past when God’s mercy mitigated the punishment that the Israelites deserved. For overcoming human depravity requires the ability to step back and formulate the kind of character that makes for human decency. This is what Micah had in mind when he proclaimed,

“He has told you, O man, what is good,/ And what the Lord requires of you:/ Only to do justice/ And to love goodness/ And to walk modestly with your God.”

(Micah 6,8)

All this is simplistic. Things get complicated when we try to justify what is demanded of us in the name of justice, when we have to determine what mercy really is and when and how it is to be applied. After all, God Himself seems to be inconsistent in His acts of punishment and forgiveness. He punishes David for his adultery but is unmerciful to Uriah whom David sent to die in battle. Other examples abound. Note also the element of uncertainty when Micah uses the term Elohekha, your God, instead of Elohim, God. Each of us has his or her perception of God. Apparently, there is a considerable amount of discrepancy and uncertainty in our theological understanding. It behooves us to hold our conceptions of God’s will with a light touch. At the same time and contrary to what I have just said about the perspective of distance as a source for the realization of what we ought to be and can be, we must all immerse ourselves in the social malaise.

The failure to take a position on what is good for humanity and to act accordingly is to surrender to destructive forces. This is cowardice and irresponsibility and a sure way to insure the triumph of evil. The Ramban regarded Bilaam as lacking prophetic fervor. The man of Pethor would have been content to curse the Israelites and enable Balak to implement his wish to drive them from the Land. It was only divine pressure which prevented him from being a passive ally of Balak’s mendacity and induced him to become a defender of the latter’s intended victims. Today, the voice of God is muted. We have only our imperfect conscience on which to rely. But at least let us exercise its power and not climb the hills from whose heights we can delude ourselves into thinking that all is well in our society.

Recent Articles by Rabbi Jack Joseph Cohen

• Balaq: Deluding ourselves into thinking that all is well in our society - July 6th, 2006
• Rabbi Jack Joseph Cohen - July 6th, 2005

Categories: Balaq, Bemidbar / Numbers
Tags: Bo, calm, fen, human rights, palestinians, pastoral, peace, peaceful, quiet, settlers, tranquil, tranquility