Most of us remember playing that childhood party game. A poster of a donkey without a tail, which would pass from one player’s hand to the next. When it was your turn, you would be spun around and then guided toward the donkey. Anywhere from slightly to severely dizzy, you would do your best to fasten the tale onto that donkey’s back end! Just as likely though, said tail would end up on its belly, or head. Or you might miss the poster altogether and your tail would join the others on the adjacent wall.
Now what would you say if I told you this week’s Torah portion, Balak, also features a donkey… only one with an intact tail who is also surprisingly verbal?! We have definitely entered the territory of magical realism!
Balak, the king of Moab for whom the portion is named, has heard that the Israelites will soon be traveling through his land en route to the one that has been promised to them. In response he dispatches his prophet Balaam to travel to where the people are encamped so that he might curse them. On the way however, the donkey stops in her tracks. There is an angel standing in the path with sword drawn which Balaam cannot see. His donkey however, can. And Balaam misconstrues her efforts to protect him as rebelling. So he beats the donkey. To paraphrase the donkey’s reply, she reminds him that she has never done anything like this before, and had Balaam only taken a closer look he might have understood that.
It is with a contrite heart that, after a few stops and starts, Balaam is able to position himself so that he can gaze down at the entire Israelite community in all its beauty and, rather than the curse Balaam intended, bestow words of blessing (ordained by God) instead.
Balaam’s story highlights just how difficult it is to see the totality of things as they happen. This is true in our own lives, whether or not donkeys are at play (!) and true in the world we inhabit as well. How true that feels, especially these days. Everywhere we look, one group is trying to eradicate another group’s rights. The specter of climate change looms hard, and our country is more discordant than ever. And lest it fade from our minds and hearts, Israel remains beleaguered and too many hostages remain in captivity.
Like our people through the millennia we so often find ourselves asking, from where will our help… where will our well-being come?
Might some of it be found in steeling ourselves and doing what we too often fear? Looking. Paying attention in a way that is nuanced and may stand to break our hearts. This is not an easy path, but as the story of Balaam and Balak shows us, it can be one of blessing. One along which we learn more about the world, about each other, about ourselves. And with that looking, and learning, we will all be more equipped to work towards better times.
If as the Psalmist reflected, the earth is God’s in all its fullness, then absorbing it and searching out its blessings is the least we can do
I think Balaam’s donkey would agree. Though we’ll never really know, as donkeys tell no… tales.
Or do they?
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Gutterman
