Rabbi Cooper

""Everybody knows that holy beggars hold the world together. Never, never pass a holy beggar. Walk across the street, go out of your way. Many times it is Eliahu haNavi [Elijah, the prophet], and oh, if you only knew, if you only knew... Our holy teachers tell us--did you know this?--that we must give to a beggar according to his or her previous station. A person who was rich should be given more than someone who was poor. The secrets of the universe are hidden in that teaching. Think about it as I tell you the story of the snuff box.

"One day a beggar came to see the Baal Shem Tov. You should have heard him. He yelled, he moaned, he complained loudly to the Baal Shem, saying, 'What kind of a God is it anyway? I used to be rich, I helped many people, I never turned anyone away, and now, look at me. I am in rags. I have nothing. This is my reward? The holy Besht [Baal Shem Tov] looked at this man closely.


Everybody knows that the Besht could see into the future and into the past. He said to the beggar: 'Moshe (you see, he knew his name just by looking at him), Moshe, why do you rail at the Holy One? All you need do is look carefully at your life, and you will understand.'

"The Besht continued, 'Do you remember Yom Kippur two years ago?' He stopped and looked at Moshe now that he had his attention. How could the Baal Shem Tov know what Moshe did two years earlier? Do you believe this? But he knew, he knew. He said to Moshe, 'Two years ago, when you were the wealthiest man in town, you went to shul on Yom Kippur with your snuff box.' Many of you know," Shlomo said, "that although we must fast on Yom Kippur, we can nourish the soul by bringing a fragrance into the body. So, in the old country, they used to carry snuff into the shul, and every so often they would pass the snuff box around so that people could be revived, especially in the afternoon when the fast gets the hardest."

Shlomo did not mention that these days some people at the Western Wall on Friday night pass snuff around just after the evening service. Some of these snuffs have pungent, fruity fragrances. One in particular is noted for its ripe banana odor, another smells like passion fruit, yet another like mango. On many occasions, I carried a pinch home for Shoshana and our guests to smell. Shlomo continued with the story. "So the holy Baal Shem Tov, said to Moshe, 'You went around the shul that day giving snuff to everyone. Do you remember? And there was a shlepper [someone heavily burdened] in the back of the shul [synagogue], lying on a bench. You said to yourself, "Why should I walk back there for him when he could come to me for his snuff?" So he did not get any. Do you remember?'

"Moshe nodded his head. He did remember! The Besht continued, 'That shlepper had been fasting for three days. If you only knew how much he needed some snuff! He was so deep, so deep in his prayers that the heavens were wide open for him. When the heavenly angels saw that you did not walk over and give him a pinch of your snuff, they closed the judgment book on you. Do you know what they wrote into that book? They wrote that you should lose all of your money and that the shlepper should become wealthy in your stead.'

"Moshe jumped up, outraged, saying, 'You mean to tell me that that shlepper has all of my money! What chutzpah [audacity]! How do I get it back?' "The Baal Shem Tov said to him, 'If you can find a time, any time at all, when you ask him and he refuses to give you a pinch of snuff, all of your wealth will be returned.'

"Can you imagine what went through Moshe's mind? He searched out the richest man in town and when he saw him he knew it was the shlepper. He began to follow him around. Moshe learned everything about the man, when he left in the morning and when he returned at night; when he went to the shul and where he bought flowers for his wife. Moshe sought to discover the times when the man would be most rushed, most harried and most irritable.

"He planned for the perfect time. It was just before Shabbos and the wealthy man was loaded with packages, hurrying home because his wife was anxious to finish her cooking. Moshe waited in the bushes and as the wealthy man came past, Moshe jumped in front of him, and asked, 'Could you spare a pinch of snuff?' The wealthy man stopped abruptly, hesitated a few seconds, and began to put down his packages one by one. It took a minute. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his snuff box. Moshe, terribly disappointed, took a pinch and walked off, not even helping to load the man up again with his packages.

"Moshe tried again a few times in the next couple of months. Once he caught the wealthy man in a downpour of rain, when everyone around was running for cover, but the wealthy man had stopped and, although his snuff was ruined by the rain, he still offered it.  Moshe caught the wealthy man on the way to an important business meeting, loaded with papers, but he offered his snuff nonetheless. Moshe caught him in shul, in the middle of prayers; he caught him in the bank, making a deposit; he caught him in a public building on his way to the bathroom and, of course, the snuff was always offered without delay.

"Finally Moshe thought of a foolproof idea. He waited one Friday morning in the mikveh, the community pool of living water--connected with a natural source--where men traditionally immerse themselves to prepare for Shabbat. After the wealthy man had removed all of his clothes and was dripping from the shower, as he was about to enter the mikveh for his submersion in the pool of water, Moshe approached him and asked for a pinch of snuff. Believe it or not, the most amazing thing happened. The wealthy man stopped what he was doing, towelled himself off, and went back to the dressing room to get his snuff box.

"Disheartened, Moshe almost gave up. But he had one more opportunity. In two weeks the wealthy man's daughter was going to be married and Moshe figured that he could trap him at his daughter's wedding. On the special day, Moshe walked to the wedding. You know, my friends," Shlomo added, "it is always important to bring poor people into a wedding. In those days, people would go out looking for a stranger they could invite. They knew it would bring the married couple good luck. We do not think about things like this these days, but maybe we should. Anyway, Moshe stood there in his dirty clothes waiting for an opportunity. When the music started, he saw the wealthy man begin to dance with his daughter, the new bride, and Moshe knew this was the perfect time to interrupt. So he walked onto the dance floor, tapped the wealthy man's shoulder, and asked him for a pinch of snuff.

"Yes, this was the perfect time. But it did not matter. The wealthy man stopped dancing with his beloved daughter, reached into his pocket, and offered Moshe a pinch of snuff. Moshe was overwhelmed. Awed by this man's incredible spirit of generosity, he got dizzier and dizzier; then he fainted right there on the dance floor. When he was revived, Moshe told the wealthy man the whole story. He told about the Baal Shem Tov, and how he had learned about his own failure to offer snuff on Yom Kippur. The man said to him, 'You know, Moshe, I never doubted for a minute that everything that happened to me, especially during the last few years, was a message from the Master of the Universe. But now I see that you have suffered so much, I must tell you I will equally share with you all of the wealth I have.'

"It came to pass that this town became famous for its two wealthiest men who gave more and more tzeddakah (charity) throughout the years. The spirit of generosity grew to unknown heights in those days. And by the way, there was more snuff given away in that city than ever before or ever after."

~ From GOD IS A VERB by Rabbi David A. Cooper has been called one of today's leading teachers of Jewish meditation.He is an active student of the world's great spiritual traditions and is the author of many books. His primary teachers have been Rabbi Zalman Shachter-Shalomi and Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach. Cooper and his wife, Shoshana, lead Jewish meditation retreats nationwide throughout the year. They reside at the Heart of Stillness Hermitage in the Colorado mountains near Boulder."

Rabbi Schachter-Shalomi with Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, Berkeley, 1988


 "Balak, the king, was afraid that the Israelites would be hostile. So he sent his elders to summon the sage, Balaam, who was well versed in the arts of the occult, to put a curse on the potential enemies. When approached by these elders, Balaam asked them to stay the night so that he could use his magic to ask God (Elohim), what to do. When God appeared to him that night, Balaam reported the request by Balak that he curse the nation of the Israelites. God’s response was that he should not go with these men and he should not curse the nation in question because it was already a blessed nation. So in the morning Balaam sent the elders back to King Balak with his refusal.

However, Balak was insistent, and sent another group, this one larger and with higher rank, with the message to come, whatever the cost. Balaam replied that no amount of wealth would be sufficient to violate the word of God. Nonetheless, Balaam still asked his visitors to stay the night to see what God would say to him the second time around. This time, God said that Balaam could go with these men, but advised him to do only what God instructed him to do. The next morning, Balaam hurried to saddle his donkey and went with the delegation. At this point, the story turns quite mysterious. In the very sentence in which God tells Balaam he can go, it says: “And God’s anger glowed because he went.” The reader must immediately wonder: “But God said to him that it was o.k. to go.” While there are many interpretations for this story, the commentaries generally agree that Balaam was obviously anxious to go for his own reasons. Otherwise, he already had his message and had no need to check a second time. This proved that he did not accept the initial instruction, but rather was seeking to find a way to do the task requested by Balak.

The nuance here is that although Balaam had occult powers, and even though he was careful in his use of these powers, he was also corruptible by status and wealth. So he looked for a loophole, so to speak, in the earlier instructions. In essence, he had a personal agenda and thus was not completely open to divine guidance. In the same sentence where God’s anger is revealed, it says that “an angel of God placed itself in the way to block [Balaam];” but Balaam and the others with him did not see this angel. However, the donkey upon which Balaam was riding did see the angel! Facing this awesome, threatening angel holding a raised sword, the donkey swerved off the road into the adjoining field. Balaam, still blind to the angel, beat the animal to get her back to the road. They moved onto a narrow path in the adjoining vineyard.

The angel, still with a raised sword, switched places and blocked the way on this new path. The donkey leaned to one side, trying to avoid the angel, accidentally crushing Balaam’s foot on the fence. He beat the animal even more. Unfortunately, the path was so narrow, there was no room to move either left or right. At this point, when the donkey saw the angel again, she lay down and would not move. Balaam was enraged and he beat her even more with a stick.
This animal had seen the angel three times; Balaam had not seen it at all. Even with all of his powers and ability to commune with God, Balaam was so focused on his own inner world that he was oblivious to the subtleties of what was happening around him. At this point in the story, we cannot help but wonder why he was unable to realize the presence of the angel? Why was the angel revealed only to the donkey?

Now the story becomes quite strange. The donkey is given the power of speech! She asks Balaam, “What have I done to you that you beat me three times?” Balaam shouts, “You have rebelled against me. If I had a sword, I would kill you!” She replies, “Am I not your donkey that you have always ridden from the beginning until now. Have I ever done this to you before?” And he said, “No.” The fact that the donkey can talk is astonishing. It raises sublime issues, particularly on the subject of how this world operates. Is it a world in which anything can happen, or is there some order, some universal law that cannot be broken? In our modern view, we are not as astonished about these kinds of things. We see many strange phenomena in science, and some of us might remember seeing as kids Mr. Ed, the talking horse, on television. For the ancient sages, however, a talking donkey sparks an inquiry into the nature of the universe. They went so far as to say that Balaam’s donkey was a one-time-only miracle, created before Creation itself, to do exactly what she did in this encounter with Balaam, and then to die, never to be heard from again.

This incident in the Torah invites us into a philosophical and theological discussion that could easily lead us astray from our theme. With regard to angels, however, it is marvelous teaching story. We learn from it that there are many realities. Each individual carries his or her own reality depending upon the conditioning of that person’s mind. This is why it is difficult to get witnesses to a single event to agree on exactly how the event unfolded. In addition, there is a reality shaped by our intellect, another shaped by our emotions, yet another reality which is a function of our perceptions, and so on. Our realities are shaped also by our beliefs, our judgments and our self-awareness. In addition, it is clear that animals, insects, and other life forms have their own unique views of reality.

Balaam was such an advanced practitioner of the occult arts, he could invite an encounter with a reality in which he could commune with God. Yet, he was unable to experience an angelic presence that his own donkey could perceive. The instant that Balaam was able to realize that his donkey did not deserve the beatings, as soon as he displayed some humility—a trait that requires one to gain greater perspective—then, at that point, Balaam gets his “eyes opened.”

With the ability to see, Balaam finally is able to perceive the angel with the drawn sword, and he is shocked into falling on his face—a sign of profound awe. At this point, the angel repeats the question the donkey had asked, “Why did you beat this beloved donkey who has served you so well?” When the Torah repeats something, it is driving a point home. This is our lesson. When we are lost in our own beliefs and our personal motivations, we miss what is really happening around us. The angel goes on to say, “If your donkey had not turned aside, I would have killed you!”

Balaam is filled with remorse and reflects that if God considers it wrong to do this task, he will return home—but this was already clear from the start. Now things have changed. When he asks yet again, he is still told to go, but “do not say anything other than the exact words I say to you.” (Eventually we will see that instead of cursing the Israelites, Balaam ends up blessing them.)"