By Rabbi Jennifer Weiner
This week’s Torah portion is Chukat-Balak: Numbers 19:1 — 25:9
There is a tradition that no one in the Jewish community is a stranger, and its roots run deeper than mere custom. They reach back to a midrash about the moment of revelation at Mount Sinai. Rabbi Yitzchak taught:
What the prophets were to prophesy in the future in each generation, they received from Mount Sinai. As Moshe said to Israel (Deuteronomy 29:14), “But with those here with us standing today and with those not here with us today.” It does not say [at the end of the verse], “with us standing today,” but rather, “with us today”; these are the souls that will be created in the future, who do not have substance, about whom “standing” is not mentioned. For even though they did not exist at that time, each one received that which belonged to them. (Shemot Rabbah 28:6)
We all stood at Sinai together, those alive at that moment and every soul yet to be born. This is why, when you meet someone who seems familiar and wonder aloud whether you’ve met before, the traditional answer is simply: “Yes, we met at Sinai.” It tells us that every encounter holds meaning, and that our community extends far beyond any single congregation, city, or era. The question then is what makes community sacred? The answer lies in the willingness to see one another not as strangers, but as fellow travelers who once stood, together, at the foot of a mountain.
This week’s double Torah portion, Chukat-Balak, illuminates that very theme. It questions sacred partnership and what it means to be a community. Along the way, the Israelites receive mitzvot and blessings: Balak, a Moabite king unsettled by Israel’s presence, hires Balaam, a prophet-for-hire, to curse them. Balaam ascends to a mountaintop overlooking the Israelite camp, opens his mouth to unleash curses and finds that only blessing will come out. What emerges is one of the most beloved phrases in our liturgy: “Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov, mishkenotecha Yisrael … How good are your tents, Jacob; how beautiful your dwellings, Israel.”
The musician Danny Meseng, reflecting on Mah Tovu, offered a teaching worth sitting with:
Nachman of Bratslov teaches us that each one of us is born with a spark of holiness, right there beneath the surface. Most of the time, however, we are Yaakov, not quite there, not perfect, dwelling in tents. But when we rise to our true potential, we become Yisrael, Godwrestlers. Rav Kook said: don’t read it Yisrael, read it Yis-rael, a song for God, a poem of praise. The same letters just rearranged. So much beauty hidden within.
What a profound image for transformation, not wholesale reinvention, but a turning, a reorientation of what was always already there.
That is the call before us now. We are being invited to rearrange our own narrative. For too long, there has been an easy assumption that someone else will step up, someone else will volunteer, plan, lead and show up. But who is that someone?
That someone is you. That someone is each of us.
Building a living, breathing community is not a spectator endeavor. It asks for your presence, your voice, your willingness to help carry the tent. Whether through volunteering, joining in leadership, participating in programs, or simply showing up with an open heart; every contribution is a verse in the song we sing together.
Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov, mishkenotecha Yisrael … How good are your tents, Jacob; how beautiful your dwellings, Israel.
Rabbi Jennifer Weiner, RJE, DD, is the interim rabbi at Beth El Hebrew Congregation in Alexandria, Virginia.
