Parshat Balak: When A Child’s Prayer Opens Heaven

“Ma Tovu” teaches us: Hashem doesn’t ask where you’ve been. He listens to where your heart is now.

Every morning, as we walk into shul, we say the tefillah of Ma Tovu. It’s the very first thing we recite—setting the tone for the day’s davening. It’s a beautiful, uplifting prayer. But if we think about it, there’s something puzzling—almost troubling—about it.

Ma Tovu was composed by Bilam.

Yes—that Bilam. The wicked sorcerer who attempted to curse klal Yisrael, who embodied arrogance and greed. A man who, according to Chazal, was the spiritual foil to Moshe Rabbeinu. Why would our morning prayers begin with the words of such a man? Couldn’t we open our Shacharis with a pasuk from someone righteous?

My father, Rav Yitzchok Fingerer shlit”a, shared a powerful insight from the Lev Simcha of Ger. He explains that at the exact moment Bilam said Ma Tovu, something extraordinary happened. For just a moment, despite his depravity, Bilam was overcome with sincerity. He looked out over the Jewish encampments and saw their holiness—and he meant what he said.

That fleeting moment of honesty mattered. Hashem accepted it.

And that, says the Lev Simcha, is why Ma Tovu remains in our siddur. It teaches a transformative truth: When a person speaks to Hashem with sincerity—even if only for a moment—Hashem listens. He cherishes it.

This is one of the most powerful messages in Yiddishkeit. Your past doesn’t define your prayer. Your sincerity does.

There’s a true story that beautifully illustrates this idea—one that Rav Yitzchok Zilberstein shlit”a, Rav of Ramat Elchanan in Bnei Brak and one of the leading poskim on medical ethics and halachah, once shared:

Rav Zilberstein was delivering a Torah class to a group of physicians. Afterward, one of the doctors approached him, his eyes glistening, clutching a small siddur—a child’s siddur. It looked out of place in his hands, but he held it like a treasure.

Rav Zilberstein gently asked about it, and the doctor shared the following:

He and his wife had been married for over 15 years. After trying every medical option, they were told—without any doubt—that they would never have children. Eventually, they accepted it and chose to adopt a beautiful baby boy.

When that boy turned five, he received his first siddur at a mesibat ha’siddur—a joyous school celebration. That evening, he turned to his father and said, “Daddy, I’m so excited that I have a siddur now!”

His father smiled and asked, “Why?”

The boy’s answer made his father burst into tears.

“Now,” the boy said, “I can daven for a baby brother. I always wanted one.”

The father was speechless. The child didn’t know he was adopted. He didn’t know that his parents had been told it was biologically impossible. And his father couldn’t bring himself to crush his hope.

Instead, he watched as his son began praying—every day—with pure belief.

And then came the miracle.

Exactly nine months later, his wife gave birth to a healthy baby boy.

Now, standing before Rav Zilberstein, the doctor held up that little siddur and whispered through tears,

“This is the holiest prayer book in the world. Yesterday, we made a bris milah for the baby my son prayed for.”

That’s what tefillah can do. It’s not about titles or levels or histories. It’s about heart. It’s about sincerity. Even Bilam, when he meant it, was heard.

This parshah reminds us: sincerity opens doors that logic says are locked. Hashem is always listening. Our job is to speak—with heart.

So tomorrow morning, when you say Ma Tovu, remember: if even Bilam could be heard… so will you be.

Check out our podcast, Jewish ‘n Joyful, available on all streaming platforms! To join our email list or WhatsApp group, email This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. or message 646-397-2320. Our weekly newsletter is packed with Torah insights, inspiring stories, and uplifting thoughts on the parshah. Visit www.parshaknowledge.com for more information. Keep smiling and have a wonderful Shabbat!

By Aryeh Fingerer