Parashat Balak: What is Good?

(ה) מַה־טֹּ֥בוּ אֹהָלֶ֖יךָ יַעֲקֹ֑ב מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶ֖יךָ יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃

(5) How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, Thy dwellings, O Israel!

Liturgical Innovation:

Rabbinic rereading of this verse, the "tents" of the Israelites become the synagogues and study halls of the people of Israel (see Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 105b).

Seder Rav Amram Gaon, the earliest compilation of the prayer book (Babylonia, ninth century), instructs: "When entering a synagogue say: 'Mah tovuohalecha. . . V'ani, b'rov chas'd'cha; I, through your abundant love, enter your house; I bow down reverently at Your holy temple.' "

Machzor Vitry, the authoritative early French prayer book, edited by a student of Rashi, adds another beautiful verse from Psalms from a different location, Psalms 69:14: "As for me, may my prayer come to You, Adonai, at a favorable time. O God, in your abundant faithfulness, answer me with Your sure deliverance."

"In the newest Reform siddur, Mishkan T'filah, the layout of the verses of Mah Tovureveals the structure of the prayer (ed. Elyse D. Frishman [New York: CCAR Press, 2007]). The center includes three verses taken from Psalms (5:8, 95:6, and 69:14) that each begin V'ani, "And I." In the Bible, Psalm 95:6 appears in plural form, but when a medieval rabbi sought to expand this prayer, the phrase was changed to a singular form to make it fit the prayer's format. Unlike most Jewish prayers, Mah Tovu, which marks the beginning of our public liturgy, is composed in the first-person singular. The alef of the word ani, the exuberant "I" who speaks, appears three times. You can see this recurrence in the transliteration V'ani, "And I," (Mishkan T'filah, p. 30 [see also pp. 192, 290, 418]). Isn't it odd that this prayer, celebrating the tents and sacred dwelling places of the people, is framed in such a private, individual idiom?" (Rabbi Yoel Kahn)

(See more at: http://www.reformjudaism.org/mah-tovu-torah-prayer#sthash.b7TffrWp.dpuf)

(ח) וַאֲנִ֗י בְּרֹ֣ב חַ֭סְדְּךָ אָב֣וֹא בֵיתֶ֑ךָ אֶשְׁתַּחֲוֶ֥ה אֶל־הֵֽיכַל־קָ֝דְשְׁךָ֗ בְּיִרְאָתֶֽךָ׃

(8) But as for me, in the abundance of Your lovingkindness will I come into Your house; I will bow down toward Your holy temple in the fear of You.

From Our Haftarah:

(ח) הִגִּ֥יד לְךָ֛ אָדָ֖ם מַה־טּ֑וֹב וּמָֽה־יְהוָ֞ה דּוֹרֵ֣שׁ מִמְּךָ֗ כִּ֣י אִם־עֲשׂ֤וֹת מִשְׁפָּט֙ וְאַ֣הֲבַת חֶ֔סֶד וְהַצְנֵ֥עַ לֶ֖כֶת עִם־אֱלֹהֶֽיךָ׃ (פ)

(8) It has been told to you, what is good, And what the LORD requires of you: Only to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.

"Balaam and Micah utilize the phrase "mah tov" in radically different ways: Whereas Balaam declares that Israel is already good, Micah emphasizes what Israel must do to become good. Whereas Balaam speaks in the indicative, Micah speaks in the imperative. Juxtaposed with Balaam's, Micah's words serve as a powerful reminder that a deep sense of "not yet" ought to pervade our spiritual lives. The world is not yet as it could be, not yet as God intends it to be; and we, too, are not yet who we could be, who we are summoned by God to become. Complacency and self-satisfaction have no place in the spiritual life. However fair and beautiful Israel's tents might be in Balaam's eyes, Micah is there to remind him that there is still a commandment to fulfill, a road to travel, and a hope that will not die." (Rabbi Shai Held)

For the Hasidic Master R. Menahem Mendel of Kotzk (1787-1859), this was the essence of Judaism: arbetn af zikh, working on yourself. A story is told of R. Menahem Mendel: A student approaches and asks, "Rebbe, who is a good Jew?" "Who is a good Jew," the Kotzker replies, "anyone who wants to be a good Jew." The student is perplexed: "But Rebbe, who wouldn't want to be a good Jew?" "That's easy," the Kotzker responds, "someone who thinks he's a good Jew already."