Even Hasidism was enriched by the adventures of Balak. How? There was an old Hasid in Jerusalem who was an expert in tales of old deeds and used to tell tales of the Saints. That Hasid regretted that everyone was talking about a dog, as if they were talking about dukes and counts, and they neglected his stories for that unclean animal. Once he went to the butcher to get meat for the Sabbath. At night, he saw in a dream a lamb with a Shtrayml on its head, and carved on it were the words, O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, and next to it stood a butcher his arms as strong as Pharaoh in the time of Moses. But he wasn’t Pharaoh, he was Bismarck. And he wasn’t Bismarck but the Military Commander of the King of Poland. He interpreted his dream. The lamb refers to the Children of Israel who live amongst the Gentiles like this lamb among seventy wolves, and they sacrifice themselves for the Torah like lambs on the altar. And the Shtrayml is the Saint of the Generation who defends the Children of Israel who stretch their neck like an innocent dove to the slaughter, and Bismarck is just a Gentile. But he was still puzzled, for first he looked like Pharaoh with strong arms and afterward like the Military Commander of the King of Poland. At night they read him a verse, Now shalt thou see what I will do to Pharaoh: for with a strong hand shall he let them go, and with a strong hand shall he drive them out of his land. And he interpreted it as the Gentiles driving Israel out of the Land. But he was still puzzled about why the Military Commander of the King of Poland appeared. He recalled a Mishnah, And one sticks in even a pole, even a reed into dripping water which one made into flowing water, and he knew that this referred to the dark cisterns, for if a Jew owed them money, the Polish nobles would throw him into a dark cistern until he settled his debt.
Came the anniversary of the death of a certain Saint. A group of his Hasids entered the prayer house named after him and feasted and fêted. They sat and drank toasts and blessed one another with the wish that the merit of that Saint would defend them, and between one glass and another they told awesome and miraculous stories of that Saint and of the other Saints of the world. Some of them you may have heard, and some you probably haven’t heard. What you heard you heard, and what you haven’t heard you must hear, especially since it’s about a dog.
Once upon a time, a man claimed to be a Saint. He attracted a big group of Hasids to him. But he wasn’t a Saint at all, but a complete villain, who presented himself as a Saint, with that Satanic force, Heaven Forfend, for in every generation where a genuine Saint
comes into the world, Satan puts an evil man against him and makes him a Saint in the eyes of the folks so they will be led astray by him and won’t follow the Saint of the generation. And he is aided by heaven, for even honest Hasids are led astray by him. Why? Because the first generations were full of genuine Saints and the people didn’t believe in them, and the Holy-One-Blessed-Be-He said, I gave you great Saints and you didn’t heed them, so I put false Saints to rule you and you will follow them.
There was one of the genuine Saints who wasn’t famous at all and who behaved like all the other simple Hasids, traveled to all the Saints and humbled himself before every single one of them. He heard that a great Saint was revealed and he went to him, to spend a Sabbath in his presence. And that famous man was of high stature for Satan endowed him with high qualities. He sensed that this was a simple Saint, and greeted him with great honor. The Saint sniffed a trace of a bad smell in him. Nevertheless, he bowed down to him, for in his modesty and simplicity, he thought he was not worthy to follow that Saint, and that Heaven had led him astray in the contro-versial issue of whether smell is a substantial thing or not. He waited for the entrance of the Sabbath, for by virtue of the Sabbath, when the holy Children of Israel purify themselves, he would be blessed to inhale some of the holiness of the Saint, for a Saint is considered as if he were the Sabbath, and that smell won’t come to lead him astray. Comes the Sabbath. Comes that famous man to the study house with joy and dancing and prays at the top of his lungs until the walls are shaken by his prayer. Both when he greets you and when he recites the Kiddush. Said that Saint to himself, Thank God I didn’t take pains for nothing, for the more we get into the Sabbath, the more exalted we are and rise from one degree to another. And he didn’t sense a trace of a bad smell. And it is only right that he didn’t smell it, for that faker immersed himself before the Sabbath, and a ritual bath purifies. He waited until the Sabbath meal, where a good drink brings hearts together.
And that Saint was wont to starve himself in honor of the Sabbath so that he would come to the Sabbath meal with a hearty appetite, and he would eat only a pittance on the eve of the Sabbath
so that he wouldn’t enter the Sabbath in torments. When they sat at the meal, that famous man took his full share and gave him the re-mainder. The leftovers dropped from his hand and fell under the table. He bent down to pick them up. He hit them with his shoe and they were rejected. And no one noticed it, for their eyes were directed at their Saint. And their Saint didn’t notice it either because all hands were stretched to him to ask for leftovers. That Saint sat with a heavy heart and a hungry stomach and thought to himself, It’s a Commandment to celebrate the Sabbath with food and drink, but except for a slice of bread of the blessing, I haven’t tasted a thing. And if I ask for something to eat, my voice won’t be heard over the singing of the Sabbath songs. The next day, the false Saint again gave him the first portion. He took it with great haste. Before the leftovers reached his mouth someone jumped up and snatched them out of his hand. He had no mouth to speak, because of weakness, because he was hungry, because he hadn’t eaten on the Sabbath night or the Sabbath eve. And even if he had said something, his voice wouldn’t have been heard over the voice of the Torah of the fake Saint. That Saint regretted his fast and consoled himself that at the third meal he would repair the misdeed. Came the time for the third meal, the false one sat the Saint at his right hand and gave him the first portion. He took his full portion and recited the blessing. Suddenly a black dog, menacing and horrible, jumped up and snatched the leftovers from his hand. And that Saint knew what he knew and recognized what he recognized. And may we too know and distinguish between true Saints and false Saints, for by our many transgressions the false Saints have multiplied many times more than the true Saints.
All the while, that old man was sitting and pondering his dream, and he didn’t know if he was dreaming a dream or pondering a dream he had already dreamed. The dream began evolving from issue to issue, from lamb to lamb, and from a Shtrayml to a Saint and from one Goy to another Goy. With the tips of his eyes, he looked at those around the table and said, Be quiet and I shall tell you something you’ve never heard in your life. But if you think you’ll hear tales about dogs, you’re simply wrong. Blessed be the Lord Who didn’t make me a duke and I have nothing to do with abominable
animals. He passed his glass from here to here and from there to there and filled his nose with snuff and started talking. And that tale has already been published in the books of the Hasids, but because of its length and its double language, no one could grasp it. And we present it in short, so that our book will not lack anything.
Once upon a time, there was a Hasid who owed money to a nobleman and couldn’t pay. The nobleman ordered the Hasid’s wife and daughters thrown into the cistern until he settled his debt. He went to his Rebbe and wept before him. Said his Rebbe, Go to the market and buy every object they offer you—buy and don’t notice what it is or whether it is worth the price or not. He went to the mar-ket. Elijah the Prophet of blessed memory came to him in the form of a Christian peasant and offered him a lambskin. The Hasid asked him, How much will you sell it for? He replied, One gold coin. He put his hand in his pocket and took out a gold coin. He gave him the gold coin and took the skin. He went back to his Rebbe. Said his Rebbe, Tomorrow is the nobleman’s birthday, go and bring him the lambskin. He went to the nobleman and brought him the skin. The nobleman was angry that he brought him such a simple birthday gift that would shame him before the noblemen and women who came to honor him. He took the skin and hit the Hasid with it. When he struck him, the skin spread out and it was made of letters upon letters, and the nobleman’s name was written there. The nobleman saw that and was amazed, for even if he assembled all the artisans in the world, they couldn’t have made anything so marvelous. But surely it came from Heaven. The nobleman immediately forgave the Jew all his debts and ordered him to take his wife and daughters out of the cistern and he appeased him with a great deal of money, and all the noblemen and noblewomen who were there gave him gifts of silver and gold. Finally, the nobleman made himself a lambskin hat and he wore that hat every single year on his birthday.
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We don’t know if Balak knew what the newspapers wrote about him and what people said about him. And if he did know—if he paid any heed to them. And if he did pay heed to them—if he was offended. And if he was offended—how much he was offended. As long as they offended him with words and didn’t hit his body, he feared neither the newspaper articles nor the scholarly studies nor was he sorry about the woes of the Children of Israel who are slandered by wicked Gentiles, whose studies bring one calamity after another. And if this assumption is true, we may add to it an important rule, that Balak was bereft of any critical spirit, for if he was critical, he would have attributed everything that happened to him to ancient dialogues based completely on false superstitions, stemming from the imagination, and have nothing to do with reality. And you can’t bring a counter argument from what was written on his skin, Crazy Dog, for precisely here it is easy to prove that there is nothing here, for according to the rules of the language, it should have said Mad Dog. And since it says Crazy Dog—it is a distortion, and if it is a distortion, the whole issue is a distortion, and is as if it were zero. And even his name itself belies it, as one diligent critic proved that the Jews are not wont to call animals by name, while he was called Balak. Hence, it is clear that this does not allude to an event that occurred, but there is a hint here that has not yet been understood by scholars and it war-rants study. And if you say, He sticks out his tongue and barks, it may be countered that all other dogs bark too, as witnessed by books on the history of animals, that every dog is wont to stick out his tongue and bark. And while those described in the books of the history of an-
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imals have not even one letter on their skin, even more so must we say that the writing on his skin does not exist.
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Since we know that Balak was bereft of a critical spirit and didn’t deny his own reality, there is room for a hypothesis, which we see as a complete certainty that Balak was a simple dog and wasn’t concerned with what was beyond his understanding. Therefore, it is easy for us to grasp his nature, both physically and spiritually, for from the beginning of his creation, he was created like all other creatures who have nothing in the world except to protect their survival and to take care of getting their food. If they threw him a bone, he would lick and bark, sometimes out of pleasure and sometimes to ask for more, like any creature; if it gets enough of what it lacks, it enjoys; if it gets less it asks for more. And we shall not be mistaken if we say that he imagined that if he took pains to acquire his sustenance and supported his body, he was fulfilling the Commandments of his Creator Who created him to eat and to bark. The soul of a boor was incarnated in Balak, and a boor has nothing in his world aside from boor-ish matters. Not in vain are boors compared to dogs in the Zohar book, The Faithful Shepherd. All of Balak’s behavior was taught by the precept of dogs. In the second watch of the night, he would shout, and if the Angel of Death came to the city, Balak would weep; and if the Prophet Elijah came to the city, Balak would smile. And when he finished fulfilling what he was commanded, he would go back to his corporeal affairs. In general, Balak was not exalted above all his brother dogs. And if he did have a few bits of knowledge—the hairs of his tail were more numerous than such bits.
Those bits of knowledge that Balak boasted of were mostly fragmentary, and even those concerning him and his pedigree did not reach an historic scope, or needless to say, a general scope. Balak knew that he had a father and that his name was such-and-such, and that his father also had a father and his name was thus-and-so. But what they changed in the world and what they added to the world, Balak didn’t know. Like most Yeshiva boys in our time who occupy all their days studying Kabalah and know how many angels there are
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in the firmament and what their names are, but not one of them knows a thing about their rôle or what purpose they serve.
Here one of Balak’s forefather dogs deserves mention. This was Tuval, the dog who was the leader of a pack of dogs in Jerusalem and ruled by force from Jaffa Gate to the street of the greengrocers at the edge of the upper market next to the street of the Anglican Church. That Tuval had a flat head and lopped-off ears and his hair was hard and so sparse that many people mistook him for a hyena. He was also concerned with public needs and cleaned the streets of Jerusalem from their filth and watched over the city’s inhabitants at night, and if he heard any moving around he would raise his voice and shout until the ears of the thieves were deafened and they ran away. Because of that, most of the shopowners were fond of him and welcomed him and treated him with all kinds of food. And even the Ishmaelites would pet him (through a garment) and flatter him. They were especially fond of Tuval on the day he went up to the top of the tower of the Russian Church and struck the big bell the Russians had brought for themselves from Moscow and there was great laughter in Jerusalem. But if you asked Balak, When did this Tuval live whom you boast of so much, in the time of the war of Plevne or in the time of the great debate of the Herdskovici court—I doubt if he would know. As we said, even his historical information was defective and didn’t go beyond knowing names and a few events, and even those events, if they weren’t mentioned in the Almanac of the Land of Israel, it’s doubtful if Balak would know anything about them.