Parshat Balak4 min read

Balaam's Donkey Knew More Than the Greatest Prophet

The donkey saw the angel, spoke in the holy tongue, outwitted the greatest prophet the nations produced, and died before anyone could worship her.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Three Festivals Hidden in Three Beatings
  2. The Prophet With the Foul Tongue
  3. The Mouth and the Tongue Belong to God
  4. Why the Donkey Had to Die

The donkey saw the angel first.

Balaam, described in the tradition as the greatest prophet the nations of the world ever produced, a man whose curses and blessings could alter the fate of peoples, rode an animal that had better spiritual perception than he did. The angel stood in the road with a drawn sword, visible to the donkey, invisible to the prophet. The donkey turned aside, pressed into a wall, sat down in the middle of the path. Balaam beat her three times, and each time she endured it without being able to explain what she had already understood.

The Three Festivals Hidden in Three Beatings

When God finally opened the donkey's mouth, her first question to Balaam was precise: "What have I done to you that you have struck me these three times?" (Numbers 22:28). In Hebrew, "three times" is shalosh regalim, the same phrase used for the three pilgrimage festivals, Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot.

Midrash Tanchuma, Balak 9, compiled in its present form by the fifth century CE, hears this as a theological argument embedded in the grammar. The donkey was telling Balaam: you are trying to uproot a people who observe three festivals a year. The very phrase you are using to count your blows against me is the phrase that names what makes Israel untouchable. Shemot Rabbah, a homiletical midrash on Exodus drawn from Palestinian amoraic traditions and edited through the medieval period, provides additional context for the three festivals: they were instituted because of the merit of the patriarchs, who never came before God empty-handed, and that merit accumulates in Israel's favor when they keep them.

The Prophet With the Foul Tongue

Balaam answered with fury: "Because you have made a fool of me! If I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now" (Numbers 22:29). The Tanchuma notes dryly that even though Balaam spoke in the holy tongue, Hebrew, he had a foul tongue. The greatness of his prophetic gift did not improve his character. A physician, the midrash says, who comes to heal with his tongue but has a foul tongue is useless. Balaam's instrument was language, and he had degraded the instrument.

The Mouth and the Tongue Belong to God

The reason God opened the donkey's mouth at all was not to produce a spectacle. Midrash Tanchuma, Balak 9, is explicit: God opened the donkey's mouth to demonstrate to Balaam that the mouth and tongue are under divine control. If Balaam wished to curse Israel, the organ he intended to use for that purpose was not his. It had always been God's. The donkey was a preview. What Balaam proposed to do with his mouth at Balak's altars, God could prevent with the same ease that He had just caused a beast of burden to speak philosophical argument in the holy tongue.

Why the Donkey Had to Die

The donkey died the moment she finished speaking. The question of why is answered by the Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzberg's early twentieth-century synthesis drawing on midrash and Talmud. Two reasons are given. First, God feared the nations would worship the donkey if she remained alive. A speaking animal, in the ancient world, was the kind of thing around which cults formed. The donkey had served her purpose precisely. Allowing her to survive would have converted a demonstration of God's power into a new object of misplaced devotion.

The second reason is more unsettling: if the donkey were alive, Balaam's humiliation would be permanent and visible. Anyone who saw the animal could ask: is this the creature that shamed the greatest prophet? God removed the evidence to spare Balaam from endless public degradation. The midrash finds mercy even in the killing of an instrument.


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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Midrash Tanchuma, Balak 9Midrash Tanchuma

(Numb. 22:28:) “Then the Lord opened the mouth of the she-ass,” in order to make known to him that the mouth and the tongue are under His (i.e., God's) control, so that if he desired to curse, his mouth was under His control. (Ibid., cont.) “And she said to Balaam, ‘What have I done to you that you have struck me these three times (shalosh regalim)?’” She intimated to him, “You are seeking to uproot a people that celebrate three pilgrimage festivals (shalosh regalim) in the year!” (Numb. 22:29:) “But Balaam said to the she-ass, ‘Because you have made a fool of me!’” Even though he spoke in the holy tongue, he had a foul tongue. (Ibid., cont.) “If I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now.” [The situation] is comparable to a physician who came to cure with his tongue a person bitten by a snake on the road. On the way he saw a lizard. He began searching for a stick to kill it. They said to him. “Are you unable to get this [creature] (without a stick)? How do you come to cure with your tongue a person bitten by a snake?” Similarly, the she-ass said to Balaam, “You cannot kill me unless you have a sword in your hand. How do you intend to uproot an entire people with your tongue?” He was silent and could not find an answer. The princes of Moab began to express astonishment, for they had seen a miracle the like of which had never happened in the world. Now there are some who say that they said to him, “What is the reason you are not riding on a horse (over which you might have more control)?” He said to them, “She is not mine (and so I did not know she would cause such problems).” [The ass] answered him (in Numb. 22:30), “Am I not your she-ass?” [He said,] “Only for loading.” [She said] (in Numb. 22:30, cont.), “Upon which you have ridden.” [He said,] “Only occasionally.” [She said] (in Numb. 22:30, cont.), “All your life long until this day!” Here you learn that he was not an old man, since [the ass] was older than he. (Numb. 22:30, cont.) “Have I ever been in the habit of doing this to you?” As soon as she had spoken, she died, so that the people would not say, “This is the she-ass that spoke,” and make it an object of reverence. Another interpretation (of Numb. 22:30): The Holy One, blessed be He, was concerned for the honor of that wicked man, lest they would say, “This is the very one through which Balaam was struck.” And if the Holy One, blessed be He, has concern for the honor of the wicked, it is not necessary to say [the same] about the honor of the righteous. And so is it stated (in Lev. 20:16), “If a woman approaches any beast to mate with it, [you shall kill the woman and the beast].” If the woman sinned, [how] did the animal sin? It is simply since the calamity came to the woman though it. Hence the verse says, “Kill it.” Another interpretation is that [it is so] that the animal should not pass through the marketplace and [people] say, “This is the animal for which x was killed.” [This is] to show how the Holy One, blessed be He is concerned about the honor of the creatures and knows their needs. And [so] He closed the mouth of the animals. As if it could speak, [people] would not be able to subdue it and master it. As this was the silliest of animals and this was the greatest of the sages. [And yet] once she spoke, he could not master her.

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Shemot Rabbah 31:2Shemot Rabbah

Rabbi Abahu offers a powerful insight into this very question, drawing from the book of Exodus. "Three pilgrimage festivals you shall hold a festival to Me during the year" (Exodus 23:14). The Holy One, blessed be He, established these three pilgrimage festivals – Pesach (Passover), Shavuot (Weeks), and Sukkot (Tabernacles) – and according to Rabbi Abahu in Shemot Rabbah, it was thanks to the merit of our patriarchs. See, they wouldn't come before the Holy One, blessed be He, empty-handed. They always brought something of themselves, a sacrifice, an offering.

Because of this, in the merit of our forefathers, Israel continues to observe these three pilgrimage festivals. It’s not just about following a rule; it’s about honoring that ancient connection. And, just as our ancestors did, we too are commanded not to come before God empty-handed (Exodus 23:15). We bring our prayers, our intentions, our very selves.

There's more. The commentary Etz Yosef adds a beautiful layer to this idea. The very fact that we haven’t forgotten the Torah, even after all this time, is also a evidence of the merit of our forefathers. Even now, through suffering and challenges, the Torah remains with us. As the prophet Isaiah proclaims: “They will not move from your mouth, or from the mouth of your descendants, or from the mouth of the descendants of your descendants…” (Isaiah 59:21). It's a promise of continuity, a thread that connects us to something bigger than ourselves.

Rabbi Abahu uses a powerful analogy to illustrate this idea. Imagine someone with a case before the king. They need advocates, people who will plead on their behalf. Similarly, when we perform mitzvot (good deeds), when we are learned and perform acts of kindness, we create our own advocates in the heavenly court. When the accuser stands to prosecute, these advocates stand opposite him, speaking in our favor. "A man’s giving expands him" (Proverbs 18:16), meaning our generosity, especially towards the poor, becomes our advocate.

That's why the Psalmist sings, "Happy is one who attends to the indigent; [the Lord will deliver him in times of trouble]" (Psalms 41:2). Our actions, our compassion, they resonate beyond the here and now. They become a shield, a protection, a evidence of the enduring power of kindness.

So, the next time you celebrate a Jewish holiday, remember this: you're not just following a tradition. You're participating in a legacy that stretches back to our patriarchs, a legacy of connection, of learning, and of unwavering commitment. You're bringing something to the table, ensuring that the flame of Torah and tradition continues to burn brightly for generations to come. You are becoming an advocate.

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Legends of the Jews 6:23Legends of the Jews

The answer, as we find it in the story of Balaam and his talking donkey, might just surprise you.

The familiar story is this: Balak, king of Moab, terrified of the Israelites, hires the prophet Balaam to curse them. But God, of course, has other plans. Instead of curses, blessings pour forth. And along the way, there's a talking donkey.

Remember, Balaam's princes were astonished by this miracle. But the moment she finished speaking, the donkey died. Poof. Gone. Why would God do that?

Well, according to Legends of the Jews, a compilation of Jewish folklore by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, God had two very specific reasons. First, He feared that the heathens might worship the donkey if she remained alive. Can you imagine? A new deity, all thanks to a talking ass.

But here’s the kicker, the part that really gets to the heart of the matter: God also wanted to spare Balaam the disgrace of people pointing at his donkey and saying, "This is she that worsted Balaam." for a second. God, in His infinite power, is concerned about the reputation of. Balaam? Balaam, the guy trying to curse His chosen people? It seems almost absurd, doesn't it? And yet, that’s precisely the point.

As Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews tells us, this action reveals just how highly God prizes the honor of pious men – so much so that He seeks to spare even the honor of a villain.

It’s a staggering thought. It’s a reminder that God’s concern extends even to those who seem least deserving. It speaks to a profound sense of human dignity, a recognition that even in our flaws, our failings, our outright wickedness, we are still worthy of a measure of respect.

There’s even more to it, though. The story hints at a deeper consideration for humanity as a whole. Why did God close the mouths of animals in the first place? Because, the text suggests, if they could speak, we couldn’t very well use them for our service. I mean, imagine trying to ride a donkey who's constantly offering you unsolicited opinions.

The most seemingly foolish of creatures, when granted the power of speech, confounded Balaam, the wisest of the wise. It emphasizes the potential for wisdom and insight to emerge from the most unexpected sources.

So, what does it all mean? Perhaps it's a lesson in humility. A reminder that appearances can be deceiving and that even the seemingly simple can hold profound wisdom. More importantly, maybe it's a evidence of the immense value God places on every individual, regardless of their actions or reputation. It suggests that inherent dignity is something we are all entitled to.

Next time you’re feeling down, or maybe judging someone a little too harshly, remember Balaam's donkey. Remember that even villains are worthy of a measure of respect. And remember that God’s ways are often mysterious, but always, always, rooted in love and a profound belief in the potential of humanity.

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Legends of the Jews 6:22Legends of the Jews

Balaam, you might recall, was a non-Jewish prophet hired by Balak, king of Moab, to curse the Israelites. But Balaam’s journey to curse them takes a turn for the surreal when his donkey starts talking back!

The story goes that an angel of the Lord, invisible to Balaam, blocked their path. The donkey, seeing the angel, veered off course, much to Balaam's frustration. He struck the poor beast, not realizing she was trying to save him. This happened not once, but three times! Finally, the donkey, granted the power of speech, confronts him.

Balaam answered the ass "in the language in which she had addressed him, in Hebrew," as Legends of the Jews tells us. It seems even a wicked prophet like Balaam had some knowledge of the holy tongue! He retorts, "Because thou hast mocked me: I would there were a sword in mine hand, for now I had killed thee." Can you imagine how ridiculous this scene must be?

The donkey isn't backing down. She throws back a zinger: "Thou canst not kill me save with a sword in thy hand; how then wilt thou destroy an entire nation with thy mouth!" Ouch. Balaam, speechless, has no response. He's been utterly outsmarted by his own donkey!

As Legends of the Jews points out, the ass didn't just embarrass him in front of the Moabite elders accompanying him; she exposed him as a liar. The ambassadors had asked why he hadn't chosen a horse instead of an ass. Balaam had claimed his saddle horse was out to pasture. But the donkey pipes up, "Am not I thine ass upon which thou hast ridden all thy life long?"

Caught in his lie, Balaam tries to wriggle out of it. "I use thee as a beast of burden, but not for the saddle," he says, desperately trying to salvage his dignity. The donkey isn't having it. "Nay, upon me hast thou ridden since thine earliest day, and thou hast always treated me with as much affection as a man treats his wife." Balaam is forced to admit the ass is telling the truth.

What are we to make of this bizarre tale? It certainly highlights Balaam's arrogance and blindness. He, a supposed prophet, couldn't even see the angel blocking his path, while his donkey could. It's a powerful reminder that sometimes wisdom comes from the most unexpected sources. And maybe, just maybe, it's a cautionary tale about listening to those we often dismiss. After all, who knows? They might just be trying to save us from ourselves.

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