Balaam’s donkey saw the angel; Balaam could not. When we cannot see what another person sees, we grow angry. Our values and beliefs become metaphorical blindfolds. The deepest rifts between people arise simply because we are looking at different realities
During the coalition negotiations following the 1992 elections, Meretz demanded four ministerial portfolios, while Yitzhak Rabin (1922–1995) insisted that for the time being he was prepared to allocate only three. When the Meretz leadership met, Yossi Sarid (1940–2015) offered to give up his position if it meant the difference between forming a government and failing. Everyone applauded, and Meretz accepted the compromise. But Sarid later revealed he had expected them to refuse – he had made a gesture expecting to be stopped. Instead, the party took him at his word. He was furious.
The failure to hear
Balak son of Zippor, king of Moab, feared the people of Israel and turned to the sorcerer Balaam son of Beor to curse them. Balaam replied that he would do only what God instructed. “But God said to Balaam, ‘Do not go with them. You must not curse that people, for they are blessed.’” (Numbers 22:12)
Balak persisted, sending another delegation and promising great honor and rich reward. Balaam again insisted he would obey only God. “That night God came to Balaam and said to him, ‘If the agents have come to invite you, you may go with them. But whatever I command you, that you shall do.’” (ibid., 20) Having received this permission, Balaam sets out – and something strange happens: “But God was incensed at his going; so a messenger of the Lord took a position in his way as an adversary. He was riding on his she-ass, with his two servants alongside.” (ibid., 22)
Why did God grow angry at Balaam, who had obeyed Him every step of the way? The French rabbi and Bible commentator of the XIII century Chizkuni (Hezekiah ben Manoah) explains that God expected Balaam to hear beyond the words. When God said “you may go with them,” Balaam should have understood that God’s true intention was for him to refuse. But Balaam could only hear the literal permission, not the underlying message. Like in the case of Sarid, he misread what was being asked of him.
The failure to see
As the story continues, Balaam’s blindness becomes literal. An angel of God blocked the path in front of Balaam’s donkey. The donkey saw the angel and turned away. The angel blocked its way again and again. Balaam, riding the donkey, saw nothing. Filled with rage at his donkey’s behavior, he began beating it.
“Then the Lord uncovered Balaam’s eyes, and he saw the messenger of the Lord standing in the way, his drawn sword in his hand; thereupon he bowed right down to the ground.” (ibid., 31)
In moments when we cannot see what another person sees, we fail to understand them. We grow angry, even turn violent. The deepest rifts between people arise simply because we are looking at different realities.
Our own blindfolds
A few months after the Iron Swords war began, I looked at reality and saw rivers of grief, bereavement, and absence of leadership. This was one of the lowest, most painful periods we have known. In those same days, I met people who spoke with excitement about miracles unfolding before our eyes. While I saw a low point, they saw a peak. Our values and beliefs become our metaphorical blindfolds, preventing us from seeing reality. In moments like these, each side is convinced that it is the other who suffers from blindness.
Balaam leaves us with an immense challenge: how can we manage to hear beyond the words? How can we see the hidden that stands right before us?
Lior Tal Sadeh is an educator, writer, and author of “What Is Above, What Is Below” (Carmel, 2022). He hosts the daily “Source of Inspiration” podcast, produced by Beit Avi Chai.
For more insights into Parashat Balak, listen to “Source of Inspiration”.
Translation of most Hebrew texts sourced from Sefaria.org
Main Photo: Balaam and his Ass\ Wikipedia
Also at Beit Avi Chai