• This Week's Torah Portion

I try to keep calm, take deep breaths, forgive and forget, blah blah blah…but one morning, my well of patience was empty. I saw such an egregious error of judgement and offensive display of moral turpitude that I started yelling. “Why are you driving so slow?! Look at the sign!” I was late for work and this schlemiel, this buffoon, this absolute clown, could not even drive the speed limit. Self-righteousness is like eating too much of your favorite cake: it tastes great in the moment but leaves you feeling worse afterwards. The high is followed by a crash and an empty plate of regret. In this week’s portion, this lesson is delivered under the auspices of an angel and a donkey. Balak, the Moabite king, has a problem: the Israelites are encamped nearby, and he’s nervous about enemies on his doorstep. He’s got an army, but to secure his advantage he calls in a specialist, the star of this week’s portion: Balaam the Sorcerer. Balak needs an edge, so he asks Balaam to curse the Israelites. The king sends “elders versed in divination” to request Balaam’s aid (Numbers 22:7). These experts’ very presence underscores the seriousness of the Israelite threat. Balak’s message to Balaam reads, in part, “For I know that he whom you bless is blessed indeed, and he whom you curse is cursed” (Numbers 22:6). Who can say no to flattery like that? Apparently, Balaam can. “I shall reply to you as the Eternal may instruct me,” he informs the dignitaries. The Torah doesn’t explain why he defers to God, but he’s one in a long line of non-Israelite biblical characters who acknowledges God’s sovereignty. The following morning, Balaam tells the messengers that God “will not let me go with you,” and they, in turn, deliver the bad news to Balak (Numbers 22:13). In desperation, Balak sends a second group of messengers to Balaam, “more numerous and distinguished than the first,” (Numbers 22:15). This time, God permits Balaam to go with them with the caveat that he can only say what God tells him to say. In a strange reversal, the next verse notes that God “was incensed at [Balaam’s] going” (Numbers 22:22). Since the text offers no explanation for God’s change of heart, commentators have assumed that Balaam was secretly planning to subvert God’s will and curse the Israelites after all. Regardless, God no longer supports the venture and places an obstacle in Balaam’s path: an invisible, sword-wielding angel. Balaam is riding his donkey through wine country, oblivious to the danger ahead. The donkey, though, sees the angel and swerves off the path. Enraged, Balaam beats the donkey to get her back onto the road. Instead, she takes him down a narrow lane, fenced in on both sides. The angel blocks their progress again. This time, the donkey tries to squeeze past, but only succeeds in smashing Balaam’s foot against the fence, resulting in a second beating. The angel blocks the path again, so the donkey gives up, lays down, and calls it a day. Beating number three ensues. You can understand Balaam’s frustration. All he knows is that his donkey refuses to obey him. He doesn’t see the angel, so his donkey’s behavior is both baffling and frustrating. In a Disney-esque twist, the donkey rebukes Balaam. “What have I done to you that you have beaten me these three times?” the donkey asks. “Have I been in the habit of doing thus to you?” (Numbers 22:28, 30). We do the same thing to strangers, co-workers, and friends. We jump to conclusions, assume the worst and let anger get the better of us. How often do we let ourselves fill with righteous indignation, assured of our own inerrant ways and furious at others’ mistakes? We don’t take even a moment to consider what’s driving the behavior, we just see the results. What if we assumed that everyone is always doing the best they can? Even when it’s not great, it might be the best they can do at the time. What if we told a kinder story about the people who wrong us, one to make even the most furious ogre feel sympathetic? If someone cuts you off, maybe you were in their blind spot. When a co-worker forgets to do something, perhaps they’ve been worried about a sick relative or stressed out by the news. When your kid misbehaves, think back to your own childhood and wonder if you would have made the same choice. We know that rage begets rage – yelling at others makes them more likely to yell back at us and at their own family and friends. We also know that stress eats away at our health. Every spike of adrenaline and cortisol chips away at our bodies’ ability to work as they’re meant to. Spreading misery around can be gratifying in the moment, but all it really does is make the world a harsher, less pleasant place. Reframing the moments that make us angry may not make a difference to the people who we feel have wronged us. The woman in the car ahead of you or the guy in line at the coffee shop may never hear the raging monologue in your head or appreciate the effort you made to take a breath, cool down, and offer a little grace. But I promise, it will make a difference to you.