It's all about perception, stubbornness, and maybe even a little bit of divine humor.
So, the scene is set: Bilam, a non-Jewish prophet hired to curse the Israelites, is on his way to do just that. But wouldn't you know it, an angel of God keeps getting in his way. Numbers 22:24 tells us, "God's angel then stood on a narrow path through the vineyards, a fence on this side and a fence on that side.” Seems pretty straightforward, right? But the Rabbis in Bamidbar Rabbah dig a little deeper.
Why, they ask, does the angel need to hide on this narrow path? Why not just confront Bilam directly? It seems a bit… sneaky. But the text explains this is actually about God's character. A human king might send an executioner to relentlessly pursue someone for days. But God? God is different. The "executioner," in this case, the angel, stands in place, and the one deserving punishment comes to him. It’s efficient, almost… economical. The angel isn't troubled to chase after Bilam; he simply waits.
And that narrow path, the bemishol? According to this Midrash, it's not just any path. The angel essentially asks Bilam, "Are the vineyards – and here, the vineyards symbolize Israel, drawing on imagery from Song of Songs 7:13 – sold like foxes, shualim?" It's a pointed question playing on Song of Songs 2:15, suggesting Bilam thinks he can ruin Israel as easily as selling off a few foxes for profit. The "fence on this side, and a fence on that side," the Midrash continues, represents the Tablets of the Law, inscribed on both sides, as we read in Exodus 32:15. These tablets are a powerful protection against Bilam's curses. He won't be able to overcome them.
But here's where it gets really interesting. The donkey, the poor, long-suffering donkey, sees the angel. Bilam doesn't. The donkey swerves, gets pressed against the wall, even crushes Bilam’s foot. And what does Bilam do? He beats the poor animal!
The Midrash asks, what did the donkey see that led him to precede him three times, before he appeared to him? And the answer is amazing. The angel showed Bilam the signs of the patriarchs. The angel revealed to Bilam that if he sought to curse the descendants of Abraham, he would find on this side and on that side the descendants of Ishmael and the descendants of Ketura. If he sought to curse the descendants of Isaac, he would find the descendants of Esau on one side, "it was pressed to the wall." The descendants of Jacob, he found no dross in them. That's why the angel stood in a narrow place, or tzar, which the Midrash connects to Jacob's distress, or vayetzer, in Genesis 32:8, because there is no fault to be found in his descendants.
Finally, God opens the donkey's mouth, and it speaks! "What did I do to you," the donkey asks, "that you struck me these three times?" (Numbers 22:28). The Midrash points out that the donkey specifically says "three times" or regalim, alluding to the three pilgrimage festivals – Shalosh Regalim – that the Israelites celebrate. Bilam is trying to curse a nation devoted to God.
Bilam, naturally, is furious. "Because you abused me!" he cries. But Bamidbar Rabbah is quick to point out that even though he's speaking in Hebrew – the holy tongue – the language of an idolater is still despicable. The word he uses, hitalalt, even has connotations of sexual abuse, as in Judges 19:25!
The Midrash then offers a sharp analogy: Bilam is like a doctor who tries to cure a snakebite with a spell but can't even kill a gecko. The donkey essentially tells Bilam, "You can't even kill me without a sword. How do you expect to curse an entire nation?"
The princes of Moab, who are witnessing this whole bizarre scene, must be wondering what they've gotten themselves into. And, in a final, almost comical touch, the donkey asks Bilam, "Am I not your donkey, that you have ridden upon me from your start until this day? Have I made it a habit to do thus to you?" (Numbers 22:30). Some even say that Bilam initially denied that the donkey was even his! The Midrash suggests that Bilam must have been quite young, as the donkey was older than he was.
The Midrash concludes with a powerful thought: God spares the honor of even the wicked. As it says in Leviticus 20:16, God spares the honor of people, knows their needs, and sealed the mouth of the animal. If God spares the honor of the wicked, how much more so does He care for the righteous! The implication is clear: even in this strange, almost absurd story, there's a profound lesson about divine justice and compassion. And maybe, just maybe, a reminder to listen to your donkey – it might just see something you don't.