Vateireh
ha’aton et malach A-donai nitzav baderech v’harbo shlufa b’yado vteit ha’aton
min haderech… vayach Bilam et ha’aton…. Vateireh ha’aton et malach A-donai vatilaheitz
el hakir… vayosef l’hakotah…. Vateireh ha’aton et malach A-donai vatirbatz
tachat Bilam… vayach et ha’aton bamakeil. Vyiftach A-donai et pee ha’aton
vatomer l’Bilam meh asiti l’cha ki hikitani zeh shalosh r’galim…. Vatomer
ha’aton el Bilam halo anochi atoncha asher rachavta alai mei’odcha ad hayom
hazeh hahaskein hiskanti la’asot l’cha ko Vayomer lo. Va’y’gal A-donai et einei
Bilam…
And the donkey saw the angel of God standing in the way and his
sword drawn in his hand and the donkey turned from the way… and Bilam struck
the donkey…. And the donkey saw the angel of God and she thrust herself against
the wall and again he struck her…. And the donkey saw the angel of God and she
lay down under Bilam…and he struck the donkey with his staff. And God opened
the donkey’s mouth and she said to Bilam, “What have I done to you that you hit
me three times?” … And the donkey said to Bilam, “Aren’t I your donkey upon
whom you have ridden all your life until today? Have I ever done such to you?”
And he said, “No.” And God opened Bilam’s eyes (Excerpts from B’midbar 23-31)
The story of
Bilam and his donkey is a fascinating one. Bilam, a supposed prophet, cannot
see something directly in front of him. He cannot see a thing that even his
donkey has the sense to avoid. To her the angel of God is clearly visible. She
sees its form. She sees its weapon. She sees its intent, and, caring about
Bilam, the master whom she has served for his whole life, she seeks to avoid
the danger to Bilam. At first she merely tries to turn him aside, but is
thanked with a blow. The second time she thrusts herself into a wall, trying to
force her way away from the danger. Again the thanks comes as a punishment. The
third time she merely sits down, refusing to be part of this charade any longer.
And once again Bilam strikes her. Even when God first opens her mouth, Bilam is
not immediately struck by the miraculous nature of this experience. Only when
forced to confront the truth of the situation does he finally acknowledge the
strangeness of her behaviour and suddenly recognize the danger before him. Only
when forced to think upon a question in order to answer are Bilam’s eyes
finally opened. Even then, they
are opened by God. Bilam, even confronted with a miracle, refuses to open his
eyes to what stands directly before him.
How often do we
in our everyday lives manage to ignore the miraculous around us? We see the
rain, but do we see the rainbow or the beautiful colour of the stormy sky? We
see the mud, but do we see the joy and wonder on the muddy child’s face? We see
the traffic slow-down caused by a fire truck or ambulance, but do we see the
heroism of those inside? The story of Bilam and his donkey is odd, and in that
sense we may never fully comprehend it. However, it is also a story of miracles,
wonder, and heroism, and that is something about which we can always use
reminding.
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