The Terrible Truth

Parshas Chukas-Balak: Wisdom and its limitations

Science is silent on the questions that haunt the human heart. Despite their transformative practical value, research-based facts cannot provide ethical insight any more than an Alpaca can give legal advice! Yet, in our times, scientific truth has acquired unjustified reverence. Many influential thinkers alarmingly regard empirical research as a virtuous end in itself and the primary source of moral authority. It's no wonder that the Stoics, who identified the goal of life as living in agreement with nature, are so in vogue.

Donald’s Alpaca lawyers struggled with explaining the legal minutia of the espionage act.

Arch atheist Richard Dawkins feverishly proclaims, "Science is the zenith of human achievement, the jewel in humanity's crown". Whilst poetic, his words mask a woefully misguided grasp of reality. Although the scientific method effectively produces reliable data, it's woefully unworthy of Dawkins's fawning coronation. This is especially so when we consider our use and interpretation of knowledge. If history has shown us anything, it's that intellectual hegemony can quickly turn out to be mankind's greatest shame. For all its merits, 'truth' can be dangerously stretched to suit any agenda.

The philosopher Rene Girard argues that science is fundamentally vulnerable to narrative manipulation. Consider the deplorable eugenics movements of the 20th century, promoted for decades as a prestigious discipline. What we now rightly regard as pseudo-science once found support from Nobel laureates and American Presidents. Towering intellects of the age venerated a moral travesty cloaked in academic jargon. University College London itself had a eugenics chair. Most tellingly, the theory wasn't discontinued due to some scientific discovery but instead lost credibility from being closely associated with the Nazis. It would be prudent to distinguish between the scientific method and our relationship with science. The method is rational. But in our hubris, humanity corrupts its relationship with intellect and is concurrently corroded by it.

Yet surely the answer cannot be to abandon reason altogether? Judaism places exceedingly high value on study. We see Torah learning, grounded in analytic thought, as sacred. Jewish texts consistently emphasise wisdom as a virtue that has distinguished our sages throughout history. And whilst many in the tradition focused solely on ideas with immediate religious value, plenty of others gained proficiency in secular fields. This week's Parsha presents a solution to our puzzle. But first, we must resolve an inescapable difficulty in its essential narrative. A problem centred around the character of Bilaam.

One thing is for sure Bilaam was a dreadful dude. His infamous greed and spite render him a notorious biblical villain. This was the guy who explicitly defied God’s will, determined to curse the Israelites and line his own pockets. He was Faustian before Faust became a thing. On his advice, Balak induced the Israelites to associate with Moabite and Midianite women, worshipping their idols. Twenty-four thousand Jewish people perished as a result. And if the foulness of these acts lacks modern resonance, Bilaam's mistreatment of his donkey would outrage animal welfare groups—my only advice: Don't let that man near a petting zoo.

Bilaam’s Donkey was gratified to finally have his day in court

Yet this alone is not problematic; bad people doing bad things isn't news to anyone. What is more troubling is Bilaam's appearance as a bonafide prophet, conversing with God and predicting the future. Extrapolating from the Talmud, the Rambam lists the pre-requisite character traits and attributes needed for an individual to experience prophecy. Included in this are humility, self-control, and fear of God. Bilaam, however, possesses none of these. An immoral, cruel, and arrogant person cannot be a prophet. How could Bilaam possibly assume such a lofty role? In considering this pivotal question, we will also address our original dilemma.

The Akeidas Yitzchak explains that our confusion regarding Billaams esoteric capabilities is a product of our crude understanding of what being a prophet means. We expect such an individual to understand the future and perform miracles, the biblical equivalent of Gandalf or Dumbledore. But the Akeidas Yitzchak shows this to be a woefully inadequate misconception. To show us why he quotes the Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim, outlining how we differentiate between a genuine prophet and one who merely repeats another's prophecy in his own name. The process involves analysing the individual in question's ethical standing. We know he is not the real deal if he exudes negative character traits, such as desire, anger or pride.

Prophets are messengers of God. As Jews, we live to enact God's will. Knowledge is a situationally relevant feature, enabling one to invest wisely, execute military moves and construct medical cures. But it's not the purpose of life nor the guide of our actions. The prophet's predictive powers mean he can provide us with future-orientated behaviours, and we can certify his legitimacy. Yet his essential essence is one who reveals the Divine path. God adorned Bilaam with prophecy's external trappings as a cautionary tale. His story is a lesson about what knowledge and understanding become in the hands of an unworthy soul. When the Jewish nation is implored to follow an individual, we do not first ask whether his expertise is authentic. For wisdom alone is a deficiency. Instead, we inquire if he is truly a man of God.

In a famous essay, Rav Dessler explains how easy it is for even the most outstanding scientists and philosophers to 'discover' corrupted and perverse versions of reality. In the hands of the pleasure-seeking or morally stunted, truth becomes a despicable instrument serving animalistic ends. For this reason, the Baal Hatanya structures the hierarchy of the animal soul's faculties from the emotional leading to the intellectual. When a person is dominated by physical desires, his intellectual expression is a mere Trojan horse for a rotten core.

Judaism cherishes intellect, but cerebral capacity alone is never enough. More than active intellect, true wisdom encompasses an awakened soul. There must also be moral grandeur and spirituality that lifts our collective gaze from the trivial to the transcendent. Our vision must be filled with ethical clarity and spiritual purpose, directing our collective striving from petty ambition to sublime vision. Only then can the terrible truth become God's word.

Good Shabbos, and Keep Pondering!