It’s the Little Things that Count

Balak, the king of Moab, is gripped by fear that his kingdom may be overwhelmed by the children of Israel. To avert this threat, he hires Balaam, the renowned sorcerer-prophet, to curse them. After much cajoling, Balaam accedes to Balak’s request, but warns him that, as a true prophet, he can only speak the words that God places in his mouth. Balak then takes Balaam from place to place overlooking the Israelite camp, erecting sacrificial altars at Balaam’s direction. At each location, however, Balak is forced to listen as Balaam blesses Israel rather than curses them.

The Torah introduces each of Balaam’s oracles with the words: “And he took up his theme (mashal) and said” (Numbers 23:7, 18; 24:3). Mashal is often translated as “parable,” providing the rabbis with an opportunity to present two remarkable anecdotes illustrating the far-reaching consequences of seemingly minor Jewish ritual practices.

“So he took up his theme and said.” Let our master instruct us: What penalty does one incur for eating without washing his hands? Our sages taught: Washing one’s hands before a meal is optional, while washing after a meal is obligatory. It once happened that an Jewish innkeeper sold both kosher meat and pork. He concealed his Jewish identity so effectively that no one recognized him as a Jew. Whenever someone entered his establishment without ritually washing his hands (netilat yadayim), he assumed the customer was a non-Jew and served him pork. Whenever someone washed his hands and recited the appropriate blessing, he knew that he was Jewish and served him kosher meat.

One day, a Jew entered the inn but neglected to wash his hands. Assuming that he was a non-Jew, the innkeeper served him pork, which the customer ate without reciting a blessing. When he came to settle his account, the innkeeper charged him a higher price for the meat. The customer protested: “Yesterday I paid eight manah for the meat. Why are you charging me ten today?” The innkeeper replied, “Because what you ate today was pork.” Upon hearing this, the customer was horrified and exclaimed, “I am a Jew, and you fed me pork!” The innkeeper answered, “A curse upon you! When I saw that you neither washed your hands nor recited a blessing, I assumed you were a non-Jew.” Therefore, the sages said: “The omission of the first washing caused him to be served pork.” (Tanhuma, Balak 15)

At first glance, this anecdote may seem exaggerated. Yet its message becomes clearer when viewed in its historical context. The story appears to reflect a time when Jews lived under conditions of persecution and often had to conceal their identity. Nevertheless, both the innkeeper and the customer remained committed to preserving their Jewish identity. The innkeeper relied upon distinctive Jewish ritual behavior to identify fellow Jews and treat them accordingly. When a Jew, otherwise indistinguishable from his surroundings, failed to exhibit those recognizable practices, he was mistaken for a non-Jew—with unfortunate consequences for everyone involved.

The story’s central lesson is that the preservation of Jewish identity often depends upon the preservation of its smallest details. Ritual practices that may seem insignificant can serve as vital markers of communal belonging and continuity.

The second anecdote describes even more dramatic consequences:

“[The neglect of] the latter water (mayim aharonim) took a life.” There was once a man who ate beans and failed to wash his hands afterward. He then went down to the marketplace, his hands still stained from the meal. An acquaintance noticed this and went to the man’s wife, saying, “Your husband sent me and told me to use this as a sign that I am trustworthy: he has just eaten beans. Please give me that ring.” Believing the sign authentic, she handed over the ring.

Sometime later, her husband returned and asked, “Where is the ring?” She replied, “So-and-so came with a sign from you, and I gave it to him.” The husband became enraged and killed her. Therefore, the sages taught: “Whoever is negligent about washing his hands after a meal is considered as though he has taken a life.” Thus, the Holy One, blessed be He, warned Israel not to disregard even seemingly insignificant commandments. (Ibid.)

The details of this story may strike modern readers as implausible, but its message is unmistakable. Small acts often have consequences far beyond what we can foresee. A seemingly trivial omission can set in motion a chain of events whose outcome is disastrous. The rabbis therefore used dramatic storytelling to underscore a fundamental principle: no commandment should be dismissed as insignificant simply because its purpose or consequences are not immediately apparent.

Together, these two anecdotes teach a common lesson. Religious identity and moral responsibility are sustained not only by great acts of faith and heroism but also by the small habits and practices that shape daily life. What appears trivial may, in fact, carry profound significance.

What relates these stories to Balaam’s blessings? Balak sought to destroy Israel through Balaam’s prophetic curses. Yet, for the sages, Balaam ultimately discovered that Israel’s strength did not lie in their military prowess, but rather in the distinctive practices that set them apart as God’s people. The rabbis therefore linked Balaam’s mashal to stories about handwashing and other seemingly minor observances. These anecdotes illustrate that a nation’s spiritual identity is preserved through the routine rituals of everyday life. The very customs that may appear insignificant to outsiders are often the practices that sustain a people across generations. Balaam was compelled to recognize that Israel’s blessing rested precisely in this unique way of life, and the rabbis used these stories to remind their readers that neglecting even small commandments can weaken the foundations upon which that blessing rests.