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The prayer that begins morning services each day is, perhaps, one of the oddest within all of Judaism.

It’s odd because it wasn’t even written by a Jew.

But its ramifications extend to our lives every day.

The prayer’s author was Bilaam, a non-Jewish wizard engaged by a king named Balak. Rather than welcome the Israelites on their way to the Promised Land, Balak wanted them cursed. 

Our Sages hate Bilaam. They view him as a priest for hire—sad evidence that every person has a price.

But as the story goes, even a priest for hire can reform and teach us something.  

Stay tuned.

As this week’s parashah opens, the Israelites are about to pass through the land of Moab on their way from Egypt to the Promised Land.

(Moab is roughly located today where Jordan meets Saudi Arabia.)

King Balak is nervous with the impending advance of hundreds of thousands of Jews. He fears that these outsiders will disrupt his community. He’s heard about God’s parting of the sea and the plagues, and the growing confidence of the newly freed Israelites—and he fears the worst.

“The Israelites will lick us clean all that is about us, as an ox licks up the grass of the field.” (Numbers 22:4)

So Balak approaches Balaam and asks him to curse the Israelites. But Balaam isn’t interested. 

Balak ups the ante. He offers Balaam a large sum of gold and silver, and this sets the mercenary priest in motion. 

In a scene, which some biblical commentators refer to as a comedic interlude, Balaam's sees what the priest can’t. 

It avoids an angel of God blocking the road. First the donkey carries the priest into a field, then it pins Balaam's leg against the wall, and then it lowers itself to the ground. 

Bilaam beats the animal at every step until the donkey turns around and says:

“What have I done to you that you have beaten me three times?” (Numbers 22:28) 

God uncovers Balaam’s eyes, and he suddenly realizes the immorality of his mission. 

Bilaam “looks up” over the Israelite camp, and notes how the tribes have arranged their tents.  

As the Torah recounts, “The spirit of God comes upon him,” and he offers a poem, a line of which opens our daily prayers:

“How beautiful are your tents O Jacob. Your dwellings O Israel.” (Numbers 24:5). It is known today as Mah Tovu. 

So what’s so special about this blessing? Our Sages offer a backstory:

As Bilaam surveyed the tens of thousands of sukkahs, he noticed that none the doors or windows faced the other.

In other words, one family’s business was no one else’s. 

This blessing and explanation are used to this day to reinforce Judaism’s respect for personal privacy.

Later, when Rabbeinu Gershom ben Judah (960 –1040) was asked whether it was permissible for a courier to open and read a sealed letter before it was delivered, Reb Gershom referred to the teaching surrounding Bilaam’s blessing.

He remained concerned that reading someone else’s personal mail may lead to gossip or sharing of a person’s secrets.

“We respect another person’s privacy,” he concluded. “You may not read someone else’s mail.”

Can we relate in 2025? Is there a connection, with the telephone party lines of the 1950s, or today’s texts, emails and social media posts?  

When you write an email to someone, do you consider that form of communication a “postcard” -- potentially to be read or shared with those it was not intended for—or do you regard it as a closed letter, its confidentiality to be honored and respected?

How amazing that a simple biblical story seen by our Sages to reinforce the value of personal privacy, remains relevant today.

How many young people have harmed themselves because private words or images were unwillingly shared?

Should these images be shared online? Of course not.

But perhaps the Bilaam story can inspire us to reinvest in the privacy of others.

Are we as committed to sparing others from gossip and embarrassment as the Israelites were when they arranged their tents more than 3,000 years ago?

The answer is contained in part in the Mah Tovu blessing, which is also used across the Jewish spectrum as a prayer of welcoming. (May Tovu video)

It reminds us to keep our eyes, our hearts and lips focused on our own business and not on others -- to honor privacy that we wish to be honored.

That is one of this week’s Torah lessons that has guided Jewish respect for privacy for thousands of years.

Indeed, there is enough in our own homes to attend to. Let us make our own tents even more beautiful by seeking to improve how we love, speak and interact with those who dwell within.

And when we observe others around us disrespecting the privacy of others, or sharing others’ private information, perhaps we need to raise our palms—or walk away.

Indeed, our tents are most beautiful when we turn our attention to our own business, and let others privately attend to theirs.

Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.

Rabbi Irwin Huberman