A good many of the late Spring and early Summer Torah readings chronicle the Jewish People’s failures - as individuals and as a community - particularly as they traverse the Midbar/Desert of Sinai. 

Parshas Balak is a refreshing exception. Up until the final portion, it seems less focused on us as bumbling and stumbling through the desert and more on us as Hashem’s treasured people, being protected from the clutches of the powerful Balak and Bil’am.  

A high point of the Parsha is the moment that Hashem “opens up the mouth” of Bil'am’s אתון/donkey. The donkey doesn’t just speak; she chides Bil'am for unfairly striking her 3 times over the course of their journey. 

In emphasizing the number of times Bil'am struck her, the donkey uses the term שלש רגלים/Shalosh Regalim. The donkey’s word usage is surprising, given that the term שלש פעמים/Shalosh Pe’amim - not שלש רגלים - would have been the clearer way to convey the notion of times and occurrences. 

The term רגלים generally means feet - as when Avraham instructs the visiting angels to wash their feet (ורחצו רגליכם). Alternatively, it means festivals - as when Hashem commands us in Parshas Mishpatim to celebrate שלש רגלים. Why does Bil'am’s donkey use רגלים to refer to occurrences?

Rashi quotes Midrash Tanchuma to the effect that the donkey was hinting to Bil'am “You are (vainly) trying to uproot a nation that celebrates 3 רגלים/Festivals.” 

What is the meaning of this Midrash? What connection might B’nei Yisroel’s observance of Shalosh Regalim have with Bil'am and his mission? In order to answer these questions, we need to take a closer look at the relationship between the terms רגלים and פעמים.

More specifically, before we can understand the distinction between רגלים and פעמים, we first need to focus on the similarity and even congruence of the two terms. By way of illustration, just as the term רגל can be a substitute for the term פעם (occurence), so too does the opposite occur: The term פעם can serve as a substitute for רגל (foot or footsteps).

We read in שיר השירים the following: מה יפו פעמיך בנעלים: How lovely are your (shod) footsteps. We read in Tehillim רשת הכינו לפעמי: They (my enemies) prepared snares for my footsteps.  

What is it that binds a word that means time/occurence to a word that typically signifies a part of the anatomy - feet? 

There is one usage of the term פעם that can help us find common ground. When Pharaoh woke up disturbed from his dreams, the Chumash tells us ותפעם רוחו: Pharaoh’s spirit was clanging and ringing inside of him. Unsurprisingly, the Hebrew word for a bell is פעמון.

Perhaps, we should be looking at the foot less in terms of its structure and more in terms of its function. Feet are instrumental in our taking steps. They are, thus, “steppers”. Feet rhythmically beat across the pavement, as they propel us across space and time. 

In parallel fashion, the rhythms by which we set order to our lives - that is our habits - are referred to as הֶּּּרְגֵל/Hergel. It is our ability to repeat our behaviors, to roll them out, as we would a drumbeat or a set of footsteps, that makes them habits.  

To be sure, there are good habits, and there are bad habits. Bad habits generally distance us from people, while connecting us to “things”. Bad habits tend to arise from our compulsions; they have more control over us, than we have over them. Good habits, on the other hand, tend to connect us to other people, to other beings. Good habits arise from our healthy and wholesome intentions. 

Part of what makes the Jewish celebration of שלש רגלים so powerful is that רגלים are not just holidays. Rather they represent the positive habit we form, when we intentionally, repeatedly visit Hashem’s chosen place, Jerusalem. They represent the festive, engaging rhythm we create, each holiday, as we conduct our foot pilgrimage, one step at a time, connecting with each other and Hashem. 

Professor Yaffa Eliach tells a moving story about a distinguished Chassidic Rabbi, living in a suburb of pre-war Danzig. The Rabbi on his daily walk, would greet every person he met. Toward the outskirts of town, he often passed an ethnic German who was headed to his work in the fields. 

Invariably, the Rabbi would greet him: “Good morning, Herr Mueller.” Herr Mueller cheerfully responded “Good morning, Rabbiner,” and each would continue on their way. 

When the war started, the Rabbi and his family were deported. Herr Mueller also left Danzig. He donned the uniform of the SS and reported to service. 

The Rabbi suffered great hardship and loss. He was eventually transported to Auschwitz. At one point the Rabbi faced a selection. Toward the front was an immaculately dressed SS officer, signaling with his baton right or left, as each inmate came before him. 

The Rabbi reached the front and lifted his eyes. Without thinking, he found himself saying “Good morning, Herr Mueller.” The stunned SS officer replied “Good morning, Rabbiner. What are you doing here?” and then waved him to the right, to life. The Rabbi ultimately survived the war.  

There are many lessons to learn from this story. One that stands out for me is that the distinguished Rabbi had cultivated the healthy, connecting habit of reaching out to every person he met, each and every day. Among other things, this affirmed the common bond of humanity between him and the town inhabitants. Perhaps, just for a moment, Herr Mueller was reminded of that shared humanity, and waved him to the right. Healthy rhythms connect people to each other. They can be life altering, even lifesaving.  

Not every habit leads to a better life. Bil'am too was a creature of habit. His habits, though, were anything but wholesome. 

When the donkey chided Bil'am, she was likely drawing Bil'am’s attention to his compulsions and bad habits. Indeed the Mishnah in Avos points to Bil'am's poor Middos: envy, arrogance, unchecked pursuit of pleasure. 

In particular, the donkey might have been saying the following: “Your words, Bil'am, betray an obsession with Bakak’s wealth. Moreover, you seem locked into repeatedly gratifying your carnal pleasures, such that even I, a donkey, am treated as your sexual target.

As a slave to your compulsions, you have more of a relationship with money and things, than with people. Even your relationship with me is one of objectification, of treating me as some sort of toy. 

You, Bil'am are no match for the Jewish people who create healthy habits, wholesome, engaging life-rhythms that connect them with the personhood of others and with Hashem. You, of all people, are vainly trying to uproot a nation that festively celebrates שלש רגלים!”

In conclusion, פעמים and רגלים signify our capacity to cultivate habits, be they healthy ones or unhealthy ones. May we, the descendants of the generation that traversed the desert, steer ourselves away from Bil'am’s compulsions toward our revered ancestors’ intentionality. May we draw upon our heritage to connect with subjects - not just objects. May we all foster connectedness through the healthy habits signified by רגלים and פעמים - our joyous, festive footsteps. May we catch our stride, in relating to Hashem and to each other.

\

Photo Credit: Unsplash: Bruno Nascimento