Balak
Numbers 22:2 – 25:9
The story of Balaam and his donkey is one of the most peculiar and intriguing stories in all of Torah. For one thing, the narrative throughout Torah is normally pithy and succinct, with no unnecessary details. The main story line ever since the Israelites’ escape from Egypt has been about their covenant with God and their journey into the Promised Land. Why does Torah tell this side story that seems to add nothing to that general narrative? Also, in the rare instances when Torah does offer details about certain lives, the characters are usually Israelites and certainly not their enemies or their animals. Clearly, this story begs for our attention.
So here we have Balaam riding his donkey toward a meeting with Balak when suddenly, and for no apparent reason, the donkey “swerved from the road and went into the fields; and Balaam beat the ass back onto the road” (Num. 22:23). A few minutes later the donkey veered off the road again and squeezed Balaam’s foot against a stone wall, “so he beat her again” (Num. 22:25). A little farther along, as the path narrowed and there was no place to veer, the donkey stopped dead in her tracks and “lay down under Balaam; and Balaam was furious and beat the ass with his stick” (Num. 22:27).
This is us, you and me. This is us riding our metaphorical donkey on the road of life. Though we plan to ride in a straight line all the way to our imagined destination, life happens. Sometimes, when life happens, we find ourselves far afield, having lost all sense of direction. When life happens and things don’t turn out the way we thought they would, we can hit a wall and get badly bruised. When life happens there can be moments when we find ourselves stuck, unable to move, faced with the impossibility of taking even one more step. And what tends to be our immediate reaction? Resistance. Unable to see the bigger picture, we fight what is, we beat life up in a futile attempt to get it back in line with our expectations. We are just like Balaam, unable to see beyond the claustrophobic limits of our own ego, hopelessly attached to our story, to our idea of how it all must unfold.
Balaam’s donkey was able to see the bigger picture. She “caught sight of the angel of the Eternal standing in the way, with his drawn sword in his hand” (Num. 22:23)—an angel that God, disapproving of Balaam’s errand, had sent to stop him. She was the one with a more inclusive perspective, trying to avoid the angel by swerving or veering out of the way and, with no other place to go, stopping altogether. Balaam was the one riding with blinders on. On the road of life, these blinders are our addiction to control. We insist, against all laws of Nature, that life succumb to our will and unfold in a predictable, planned-for manner, and we get terribly upset when it inevitably does not. It is certainly important that we make plans, dream dreams, and lead intentional lives, but it is also important that as we do so, we remember that we are not in control. Life does indeed happen, independent of our will, and the best thing we can do is learn to navigate its ups, downs, and detours along the way.