Peculiar People Stories: An Ass Speaks
July 15, 2007
Ralph DiBiasio-Snyder

Numbers 22

Today we hear a strange, fable-like story about a shadowy figure named Balaam and his faithful talking donkey. We find it way back among the earliest stories of the Bible, plopped down in the midst of stories of how the Hebrew people invaded Canaan. Having wandered about in the wilderness between Egypt and Palestine for some forty years, they are in search now of their "promised land." Thinking that they are called by God to conquer, they set about pillaging and plundering city after city. Their leaders say that their victories were evidence that God was on their side. Their ferocity in the name of Yahweh gained a reputation for themselves, and for their warrior God.

Balaam's story is set along the Jordan River, in the land of Moab. The king of the Moabites, having heard about the take-no-prisoners invaders, and seeing that there were an awful lot of the foreigner Hebrews setting up tents in his backyard, decides to recruit some help - some spiritual help. He tries to hires Balaam, a soothe-sayer - a seer - a holy man, that he's heard about; someone you can hire to curse your enemies if you are so inclined. The best candidate for this job, Balaam, lives up Syria way, along the famous Euphrates River we hear so much about these days. He is not an Israelite. The king, after all, wants to hire him to speak a curse the Israelites. But somehow this Gentile Balaam is on good speaking terms with Yahweh himself. He is an outsider to the Hebrews - but still, he knows the Hebrew God.

Before we hear this funny, funny story, I should say that it would be even funnier to our modern ears if we heard it in the King James Version. That venerable, reverent version of Holy Scripture, instead of talking about Balaam's "donkey," talks about - you guessed it - Balaam's "ass." But I thought that in such polite company as we all are here today, we really should stick to "donkey." I'd like to invite Anne Wesenberg and Kay Kennard to come and help me tell the story; a story in which a man of God acts like a jackass, and a donkey teaches him and us all something very important.

Let's pick up the story . . .

So Balak the king of Moab at that time, sent messengers to Balaam with the fee for divination and said to Balaam:

Balaam answered them, "Spend the night here, and I'll bring you back the answer Yahweh gives me."

So the Moabite princes stayed with him. God came to Balaam and asked, "Who are these men with you?"

Balaam said to God,

But God said to Balaam, "Do not go with them. You must not put a curse on those people, because they are blessed."

The next morning Balaam got up and said to Balak's princes,

So the Moabite princes returned to Balak who soon sent other princes, more numerous and more distinguished than the first. They came to Balaam and said:

But Balaam answered them,

That night God came to Balaam and said, "Since these men have come to summon you, go with them, but do only what I tell you."

So Balaam got up in the morning, saddled his donkey and went with the princes of Moab. But God was very angry when he went, and the angel of the LORD stood in the road to stop him. Balaam was riding on his donkey, and his two servants were with him. When the donkey saw the angel of the LORD standing in the road with a drawn sword in his hand, she turned off the road into a field.

Then the angel of the LORD stood in a narrow path between two vineyards, with walls on both sides. When the donkey saw the angel of the LORD, she pressed close to the wall, crushing Balaam's foot against it.

Then the angel of the LORD moved on ahead and stood in a narrow place where there was no room to turn, either to the right or to the left. When the donkey saw the angel of the LORD, she lay down under Balaam, and he was angry.

Then the LORD opened the donkey's mouth, and she said to Balaam,

Balaam answered the donkey,

The donkey said to Balaam,

Then the LORD opened Balaam's eyes, and he saw the angel of the LORD standing in the road with his sword drawn. So he bowed low and fell facedown.

The angel of the LORD asked him,

Balaam said to the angel of the LORD,

The angel of the LORD said to Balaam, "Go with the men, but speak only what I tell you." So Balaam went with the princes of Balak.

What a great story. And a surprising one. You expect to find animals that talk, reasoning with their owners, in Aesop's ancient tales. They're full of them. But there aren't a lot of talking animals in the Bible - the serpent in one of the Creation stories in Genesis is the only other one. But I love this story of Balaam and his brave and wise donkey for its great humor. The subject of the story - bribing a holy man to curse one's enemies - that is, getting the religious crowd to condemn your enemies and bless your war - it a serious one because that goes on yet today. But the interaction between Balaam and his donkey is, to me, just too funny!

Here is the holy man - dignified, revered, highly sought-after (kings and presidents want him on their side) - solemnly going down the road with his entourage of servants and the princes from Moab. As he goes, I imagine him thinking about how swell it is that he can talk to God, and God talks right back at him too! He surely must have been thinking about this important journey, going at the bidding of God to speak the very word of God. Maybe he was daydreaming about how far he has come in the world, and wondering if this job might get him still further along.

And then it happens. First, his donkey wanders off the road, into a field, and stopping, refuses to go on. Balaam quickly prods her back on the road, and they set off again.

But soon in a narrow place between two walls the donkey lurches into one of them, wedging Balaam's foot against it. Getting off angrily, rubbing his sore foot, embarrassed in front of the princes, he smacks the donkey harder this time - his foot hurts! - and they get back on the road. "Won't happen again, fellas!" I can see him say to the princes.

And finally, the last straw: the donkey just stops where she is, and lays down right in the middle of the road. Off flies Balaam, grabbing his staff and beats her mercilessly.

At which time she speaks. "What have I done to you to make you beat me three times?"

We the readers know why the donkey is acting so strangely. She has seen that great and terrible angel of God standing in the road, brandishing a sword. And she figures that surely Balaam the wise seer, the diviner, who speaks to God and for God surely he must seen the angel too. "What have I done to you? she asks, as if to say, "Didn't you see what I see?!"

And the great Balaam finds himself arguing with his donkey. The man of God, who hears God himself, sought after by kings and princes, is reduced to arguing with his donkey. And why has he beaten his donkey? Because, he says, "You have made a fool of me!"

The man is talking to his donkey, and says the donkey has made him a fool?! Well, Balaam's embarrassed. It's not so much that the donkey is delaying the journey, or even that his foot is bruised. His ego - dare I say his male ego, dare I say his religious ego - is bruised, and he's embarrassed. There in front of his servants, and the princes, he has been made the fool. He can't even control his own jackass, this great seer, this wise counselor, this respected prophet.

And we laugh at his embarrassment; but only a little. Because we see ourselves, don't we, in our friend Balaam? At least I do. It is so human of us, this ability to worry about our image. To want people to think well of us; to want them to think we are in control, in charge, to never be surprised, to at least be able to ride on a donkey without falling on our faces. Balaam is a man not so different from us, from me.

And for that reason I rather like the man. And because, unlike me, he is able to learn - even from his donkey. For she - and it's too bad that we are not told her name, though surely she had one - sets about teaching her master, making wise the wise man. She does this by appealing to reason, and to his past experience with her: "Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?"

Think now, Balaam! All these years I have been your donkey. Have I ever done anything like this before? Have I ever gone off the road; have I ever deliberately banged into a wall? Have I ever sat down, refusing to move?

"Well, no," says the sheepish seer, and he's beginning to see the light now. Beginning to see that he has acted foolishly, wrongly, toward his faithful animal. And having seen a little more of himself, he then sees what she has been seeing all along: the presence of God, warning them to stop - the messenger of God, sword drawn menacingly in the road, blocking their way. He sees what his lowly donkey has been seeing all along.

And Balaam bows in another kind of embarrassment - the embarrassment of not seeing the obvious, of not even looking for the presence of God.

Blinded by his own self-importance, his mind turning steadily inward, he has unable to look up long enough to see the angel, and that sword. But now can admit it. "I have sinned. I did not see you were standing in the road to stop me."

In this story of foolish Balaam and his wise donkey we surely must see ourselves. It holds up a mirror to us, and invites us to see if we are not there in the ancient story. It may be in Balaam's self-importance, in his longing to be admired, sought-after, seen as gifted. It may be in his impatience; his too-quick judgement of his faithful donkey. We hopefully can see ourselves too in his being willing to learn, to change, to see what others - even donkeys - do, and to admit our foolishness. The story is a study in human nature as old as the human race itself.

But there is another lesson to be learned from this tale. It is a simple one. We say in the UCC that "God is still speaking." The story of Balaam and his donkey reminds us that the still-speaking God can speak through the most unlikely of sources - even, it seems, even the jackasses donkeys in our lives.

I like to think that I am open to hearing, so to speak, the voice of God. But I like to choose the sources of that guidance. I like to hear it in the great ones of my faith world - the Ghandis and the Martin Luther Kings, Nelson Mandellas and Desmond Tutus; the Harry Emerson Fosdicks and William Sloane Coffins. I look for the messengers of God in the voices of the great. I swear I could hear it in Bill Moyers as he addressed the UCC General Synod two weeks ago.