There are two times that animals talk in the Old Testament. The first is the serpent in Eden, who entices Adam and Eve to rebel against God. The second is Balaam’s donkey. Like the serpent, this donkey seems far more aware of what is really at stake than the person it speaks to. As long as I’ve known this story, I’ve loved it. It’s compelling literature; the story goes on a couple of chapters longer than we have time to read today. But it’s also truly funny. This could be a comedy sketch, but like any good comedy, there is something true and serious at its core. That’s the case here.
After leaving Egypt, the Hebrews take 40 years wandering through the wilderness on their way to the Promised Land. Last week Pastor Kristine preached on God giving the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai, and if we fast forward to this week, it’s been almost all of those 40 years to get to this story. Their wilderness wanderings have now become middle-aged.
Along the way, the Hebrews have encountered lots of trouble, all of which God helps them through. They need food; God sends manna and quail. They need water; Moses strikes a rock and living waters flow out. As they get closer to the Promised Land, they encounter other people groups who are not happy at all with these hordes of Hebrews moving through their lands. Many battles ensue, which, again, God helps them win. As they move to their goal, they are gaining a reputation, and God is also gaining a reputation for all of these miraculous victories.
That brings us to today’s text. The Hebrews are getting close to the Promised Land. They are approaching Moab, which sits on the southeastern end of the Dead Sea. (To set you up for a few weeks from now, Moab is also the land that Ruth is from and where Naomi goes when there is a famine in Israel. So, before you are tempted to demonize the enemies of Israel in this story, know that God uses the Moabites to preserve Israel and that these folks are part of the very line of Jesus.)
The king of Moab, his name is Balak, knows that his people are next along the way of the Hebrews’ travels, and they have heard the stories of others who stood in their way. One of the weapons that kings used in those days was having a professional prophet come curse their enemies. Balak wants a seer with a great track record, and there is one named Balaam who is a real all-star in this regard. So, Balak sends a delegation and money to Balaam, who lives far from Moab; this is how serious Balak is about needing Balaam’s professional services. Balaam comes from the region around the Upper Euphrates, which is in the area where Turkey, Syria, and Iraq meet today. It’s quite a journey.
This first delegation comes to Balaam with their proposal, but Balaam seems to know the Lord, the God of the Hebrews, so he talks to God, and God says don’t go with them. Balaam rejects their money and offer, and they go back to Moab. King Balak will not accept this “no,” and he sends a second delegation, more illustrious than the first. Again, Balaam seeks God’s will, and this time, God tells Balaam he can go to Moab, except Balaam can only proclaim what God says, not what the king wants.
That brings us into the heart of this story — the conflict between God and Balaam, with the donkey stuck in the middle. Even though God tells Balaam that he can go, God appears to be teaching Balaam the hard life lesson that not everything God permits — in this case traveling to Moab — is something that follows the will of God.
Old Testament expert Dennis Olson is helpful here. He writes, “Balaam’s experience with the donkey is in some way parallel to God’s experience with Balaam. Balaam will be reminded that the life of a prophet of God is like riding a donkey. Balaam’s own personal ability to steer the course of history and see what lies ahead is minimal, less than the animal on which he rides. Lest Balaam have any thought that he can make an end run around God, the angel teaches Balaam that he must lay down his own initiative in cursing or blessing Israel and allow God to use him as God sees fit.”
Balaam is traveling on his donkey, surrounded by servants. Clearly his job has given him wealth. As they go down the road, the donkey sees the angel standing in the road, so the donkey wisely turns off it, heading into a field. Wondering why his donkey is not doing what she should, Balaam strikes the donkey trying to get her back on course. (In the Hebrew, this is a female donkey, by the way.) The donkey gets back on the road, which narrows to a path with walls on either side, and again the angel blocks the way. Trying to avoid another beating, the donkey tries to squeeze by the angel, scraping Balaam’s foot on the wall, sending him into another fit. They proceed, but the path gets even narrower, to the point, where the donkey just lays down when she sees the angel.
Balaam is blind with rage and tries to go after the donkey again, when the donkey starts talking to him. “Why are you hitting me?” she asks. “I’ve always done what’s best for you, and this is how you treat me?” At this point, the eyes of Balaam the seer are opened, and he sees the angel of the Lord in the path, sword drawn, ready to strike Balaam down.
Irony of ironies, what we have here is a professional see-er who cannot see the angel of the Lord standing in his way, but we do have a donkey who can see what God is up to.
I think that we’re a lot like Balaam. God is often speaking to us — in words, in images, in thoughts, in silences even — but we aren’t paying attention. We keep pressing down our path, going in the direction that we think is best for us and not perceiving all the ways God is breaking into our everyday reality. Balaam thought he knew what was best but was totally inattentive to what God was doing right in front of him.
Balaam needed to listen to the donkey, and so do we. Listening is deeper than hearing. We can hear something and have it go in one ear and out the other. As I wrote this sermon, I could hear the Relaxing Classical playlist I had on in the background, but I wasn’t really listening to it. Listening requires attention. It requires focus. It requires tuning out other things that might distract us. If you take a friend out for coffee, but spend most of the conversation thinking about what else you have to do today, you’re hearing but not listening. You are there but not present. If you are hearing my words now, but your mind is thinking about your lunch plans, you’re hearing but not listening.
We need to become better listeners — not just to each other (although that’s true too) but also to God. God is speaking. All the time. Are we listening? Are we paying attention? Are we actively seeking to hear the voice of God in the many ways it comes to us?
God is speaking. Often that’s in how we engage with Scripture personally and in worship. God is speaking to us when we devote time in prayer, which is often as much about listening as it is about us saying things to God.
But God is often speaking in unique ways to us. Let’s call them our donkeys, in honor of this passage. Are we listening to “the donkey”? Has there been something nudging you lately that you know is there but don’t want to deal with? It might be your donkey. Has God placed someone on your heart but you haven’t acted? Perhaps that’s your donkey, and it’s time to pay attention. Have you had a word or phrase that keeps popping up? Might just be a donkey that God is pointing to with flashing neon lights. Have you been avoiding something that just won’t get out of your mind? Maybe God is speaking to you there too. God speaks. God is speaking even now. To you. Are you listening? Kathy Sakenfeld tells us, “Balaam’s story stands as a reminder that God does use improbable means to set people on improbable paths.” Perhaps it’s time for you to listen to the donkey God has placed in your life and go in the way God is trying to lead you.
