Rabbi Brad Levenberg
In our Torah portion this week, King Balak, saw the 600,000 or so wandering Israelites from a distance and concluded that they represented a threat to him and his kingdom. So, he hired a guy named Balaam to ascend an overlook and curse them. But rather than curse the people, Balaam offered words that have since become part of our daily prayer: “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel.”
It’s a strange and beautiful thing that one of the most familiar lines in Jewish life comes not from someone inside the camp, but from someone looking at us from the outside. Balaam doesn’t know the personalities, the politics, the worries, or the history; he simply looks out at the tents and sees a blessing where someone else saw fear.
That story feels especially resonant right now as FIFA’s World Cup has brought the world to Atlanta. For those of us who live here, Atlanta can feel ordinary in the way home always becomes ordinary: traffic, errands, restaurants, doctors’ offices, activities, and the little mental map we all keep of which roads to avoid. But for visitors, Atlanta is being encountered and interpreted with great intention.
So, borrowing from Balak, we have to ask: Now that the world has come to Atlanta, what is it seeing about how we dwell?
It may see the extraordinary story of this city’s civil rights legacy, as well as the inequities that still ask something of us. It may see our trees, neighborhoods, universities, restaurants, and hospitality, as well as the displacement and frustration that can make daily life feel harder than it should. It may see a Jewish community that is vibrant and generous… and still learning how to live with appropriate caution in a world that can feel unsettled.
Balak reminds us that we are always being seen from some hillside, sometimes fairly and sometimes not. But a challenge deeper than how others see us is whether the life we’re building is worthy of being seen.
As Shabbat arrives, may we look again at our own tents, and may we dwell in ways that allow others to glimpse something good.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Brad Levenberg
