PARASHAT BALAK
“Hearing God’s Voice in Unexpected Places”
When was the last time you received guidance that seemed to come out of nowhere—but felt deeply, undeniably right? Maybe it was a stranger’s comment in a checkout line, a child’s innocent question, a lyric in a song, or even a moment of silence that held a kind of answer.
In Parshat Balak, we meet the prophet-for-hire, Bilaam, a man enlisted to curse Israel, but who instead ends up offering one of the Torah’s most beautiful blessings. But before he gets to that point, something incredible happens: he is rebuked—not by an angel, not by a prophet, but by his donkey.
“Then the Lord opened the donkey’s mouth, and it said to Balaam, ‘What have I done to you, that you have struck me these three times?’”
(Numbers 22:28)
We often imagine divine messages arriving with trumpets, fire, or clarity. But the Torah teaches us otherwise. Bilaam’s donkey opens her mouth—an impossibility by nature—and calls him out. Sometimes, to get our attention, God chooses the most unlikely messenger.
This moment reminds us of the depth of what the Psalmist meant in saying:
“אַשְׁרֵי הַגֶּבֶר אֲשֶׁר יִבְטַח בַּה׳”
“Blessed is the person who trusts in the Lord.”
(Jeremiah 17:7; also adapted into Birkat HaMazon)
Every time we recite Birkat HaMazon, especially on Shabbat, we proclaim this truth: trusting in God means remaining open—even when we don’t understand the path, the moment, or the messenger.
Shakespeare captured a similar mystery of unexpected redemption when he wrote in Much Ado About Nothing:
“There was a star danced, and under that was I born.”
(Act 2, Scene 1)
The stars, the animals, the broken moments, and odd conversations: in all these, something dances just beneath the surface—Divine choreography.
Yet the modern writer Franz Kafka serves as a perfect foil. In his work Zürauer Aphorismen, he writes:
“The Messiah will come only when he is no longer necessary.” (#80, trans. Michael Hofmann)
Kafka reflects a deep skepticism—perhaps even despair—that salvation can ever be found. But our tradition insists otherwise. Even Bilaam, surrounded by confusion and malice, finally sees the Divine path and utters a vision of beauty that we still use in prayer today:
“מַה־טֹּבוּ אֹהָלֶיךָ יַעֲקֹב, מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל”
“How lovely are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel!”
(Numbers 24:5)
In that moment, Bilaam becomes a vessel for blessing rather than curse, for revelation rather than confusion.
So this Shabbat, let us be people who listen—even when the message comes from the strange, the humorous, the lowly, or the unexpected. Trusting in God means trusting that we, like Bilaam, can be redirected toward blessing, and that every soul has a role in the unfolding vision of goodness.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Bolton