Parshiyot Hukkat-Balak 5783

I delight in the robins, cardinals, and other common birds that I regularly see and hear in my yard, and their presence brings me joy. But recently, thanks to the wonders of technology in the form of the Merlin app produced by Cornell University, my ears, mind, and heart have been opened to the knowledge that there are many other, less common and well-known birds, right here in my own backyard. Through the ability of this app to inform me of the birds around me by recording their songs, I have discovered that rose-breasted grosbeaks, warbling vireos, chimney swifts, and cedar waxwings are prone to visiting my neighborhood. Who knew! What a wonder! The joy, uplift, delight, and hope that awareness of these mostly unseen birds bring me is deep and unbounded. They make my day.

Balak, King of Moab, sends Bilam to curse the Israelites. Along the way, Bilam has a unique encounter with an angel and his donkey. Bilam doesn’t see the angel standing in the way of his donkey. His reaction is to beat and berate his mount, causing the creature so much distress that she finally speaks aloud in a way that Bilam can understand, in human language.

Rabbeinu Bahya (Numbers 22:23) makes it clear that the reason Bilam was so blind to what was going on around him, especially considering that he was a “seer,” someone really attuned to any change or anomaly around him, was because he was bent on destruction, on cursing. He was filled with anger, ready to do Balak’s bidding and bring a string of curses out of his month and down upon the unsuspecting Israelites.

Think about the power of negativity on our ability to be aware of our surroundings, the feelings of those around us, or the pain or hurt others are feeling. If we are angry with the world, or someone, we are likely to miss the cues of need around us. That is what is happening to Bilam, and why he can’t perceive his donkey’s distress and efforts to avoid what is in her pathway. Anger can, and does, blind us.

And what about the donkey? Did she really “see” the angel? Nahmanides says no. Angels are rarely visible to humans, let alone animals, but the donkey could sense its presence, had an awareness not based on sight but on being sensitive to her surroundings. The donkey was more aware than Bilam.

But did she really speak in human language to Bilam, when her master started beating her for not continuing forward, toward the place where he could spew forth his message of hate? Did she really say actual words?

Jewish tradition teaches us that this talking donkey was one of the 10 things created on the eve of the first Shabbat (Pirkei Avot 5:6), along with other matters described in the Torah that are outside the realm of the laws of nature that G!d had just created. The ancient sages teach us that a donkey talking to a person in human language has to be explained, because it is beyond the norm.

But the question I wonder about is, what, exactly is the norm? How aware of it are we? We humans have a tendency to think of the world revolving around us, as apex creatures in the Creation of all life and, as a result, most of us lack awareness, or even the willingness to be aware, of the intelligence and ability of other creatures, and even plants. As we consider this, let us not forget that it was Bilam’s lack of awareness of his donkey’s awareness that caused him to beat the creature.

Or HaHaim, commenting on this same verse, notes how mysterious the whole situation is, raising questions such as: Why did G!d allow the angel to become visible to the donkey? Why did Bilam strike the donkey? Why did G!d open the donkey’s mouth? He then proceeds to provide his own answer, based on Bilam’s multiple sins, as well as his insistence on doing things his own way and his refusal to view himself as an instrument of G!d.

I was unaware of the myriad of birds around me. (Of course, any of you who are devoted birders could certainly have told me I was missing something, but you haven’t sat with me in my yard and so weren’t here to do so.) My lack of awareness was not literally because I was rushing to bring curses down upon the strangers in my midst, but it surely has been due to my ignorance and my willingness to believe that only what I could see with my own two eyes exists around me.

What does it take for us to open our minds, our hearts, our ears, our eyes? Can a simple app on your phone do it, or do we need to hear a donkey talking to us in our own language? Does G!d really have to send another miraculous, beyond-the-norm event in order for us in the 21st century to wake up and be aware?

Or is the situation somewhat different? Is it that all the creatures actually speak in a way we can understand, but we just don’t choose to believe it and to make the necessary effort? Just as scientists have recently explained to us how trees communicate in a forest, they are also uncovering ways that birds and other aspects of Creation (including sometimes other people) are far more intelligent, aware and mentally complex than it might be comfortable for us to consider.

What happens to our perceptions of ourselves and our world if we embrace the idea that all of life has genius that we may not be able to perceive?

I invite us to take up this challenge and to allow it to lead us to more frequent awareness of ourselves as instruments of G!d, and thus to more regularly bring blessings, rather than curses, into the world.

 יהי רצון.

May it be so.
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Rabbi Katy Allen is the founder and rabbi of Ma’yan Tikvah – A Wellspring of Hope, which holds services outdoors all year long and has a growing children’s outdoor learning program, Y’ladim BaTeva. She is the founder of the Jewish Climate Action Network-MA, a board certified chaplain, and a former hospital and hospice chaplain. She received her ordination from the Academy for Jewish Religion in Yonkers, NY, in 2005. She is the author of A Tree of Life: A Story in Word, Image, and Text and lives in Wayland, MA.