[Balaam] proclaimed his oracle and said, “This is the
word of Beor’s son, Balaam, the word of the man with the blinded eye.”
—Numbers 24:3
Two merchants set up shop side by side at the same
bustling market. The first merchant sold the finest linen, each piece as soft
as a baby’s bottom and as white as polished ivory. He delighted in customers
who knew their fabric, those who appreciated quality and, after a brief
inspection, handed over their money without fuss.
Next door was a different story. Merchant number two sold
cloth of… questionable pedigree. The weave was moody, and the colors looked
like they’d spent a long summer in the sun. His ideal customers were the
clueless, the distracted, or, better yet, the nearly blind. He prayed for bad
lighting and tired eyes. Sunset was his golden hour, nature’s gift to
second-rate fabric.
The Blessings of a Half-Blind Prophet
“This is the word of Balaam… the man with the blinded
eye.” Strange sales pitch for a prophet, isn’t it? “Hi, I’m Balaam. Can’t see
so well, but this is what God says…”
And here’s the real twist: According to the Midrash,
everything Israel enjoys in this world—peace, protection, even a decent
harvest—comes not from Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob, but from Balaam. The shady
prophet with the half-working eye. The blessings of the Patriarchs? On hold.
Coming attractions. End of days, says the verse: “God will safeguard for you
the covenant and the kindness that He promised to your fathers” (Deut. 7:12).
But why the delay? Why are the real blessings—holy, earned,
ancestral—stuck in Divine layaway?
Here’s the Maggid of Dubno’s answer. The Patriarchs were
spiritual giants; wise and holy men, attuned to greatness. They were like the
discerning customers in the linen shop, able to appreciate the fullness of what
Israel could become. Their blessings were meant for generations that would rise
to spiritual heights, generations filled with the knowledge of God.
But what about the generations in between? The ones lost
in exile, struggling with suffering, and reduced to spiritual shallowness? Who
would bless them, when they seemed so far from the ideal?
That’s when you need a guy like Balaam. Because Balaam
couldn’t see the flaws. Literally. Spiritually. He was blind to the bickering,
the backsliding, the broken promises.
And that was his strength. Balaam had to explain: Why was
he blessing Israel? Why would God even want his blessing? Because he was “the
man with the blinded eye.” He only saw what God wanted him to see: not their
current shortcomings, but their future potential.
