We find ourselves in the book of Numbers, with Balak, the king of Moab, terrified of the Israelites. He hires the sorcerer Bilam to curse them. But, as we soon discover, things don't exactly go according to Balak's plan.

The story unfolds in Bamidbar Rabbah 20, a midrashic collection that dives deep into the biblical text. It picks up on a specific moment: "He said to Balak: Stand here with your burnt offering, and I will be happened upon there" (Numbers 23:15). What does it mean to "be happened upon"? The text emphasizes that this wasn't Bilam's initiative. He was, shall we say, being divinely influenced.

The midrash highlights the image of God placing speech in Bilam’s mouth, comparing it to "a person who places an iron bit in an animal’s mouth and restrains it, and leads it to wherever he wishes." Ouch. Talk about a loss of control! The Bamidbar Rabbah paints a picture of Bilam as a reluctant mouthpiece, struggling against the divine force compelling him.

And Balak? He's not happy. He expected a curse, but instead, Bilam keeps blessing the Israelites. The text notes that initially, “He, and all the princes of Moav” were present (Numbers 23:6), eager to witness the curse. But as the blessings continue, they start to peel away. "When they saw that it was to no avail, they left him, and only some of the princes of Moav remained with him." Can you feel the awkwardness?

Balak, realizing Bilam isn't under his control, even starts mocking him. But Bilam, despite his predicament, asserts his authority: "Stand, you are not permitted to sit when the words of the Omnipresent are being said." Even with God’s hand forcing words from his mouth, Bilam still demands respect for the divine message.

Then comes a powerful statement: "God is not a man, that He will deceive." The midrash explains that unlike humans, who might abandon old friends for new and better ones, God doesn't break promises. He is bound by His word, especially the oaths made to the patriarchs.

But what about divine decrees of punishment? The text explains that even though God might threaten evil, He is merciful and accepts repentance. "He says to bring evil upon them, but if they repent, he nullifies the evil." We see examples from the Torah, like the incident of the Golden Calf, where God initially intended to destroy the Israelites but relented after their repentance.

The midrash continues, emphasizing God’s unique perspective on Israel: "He does not look at the transgressions that they have made, but rather, He looks only at the matters of which they are proud." It's a powerful reminder that even when we stumble, God sees our potential, our inherent goodness.

Bilam then describes Israel as a guarded orchard, protected by God, "Behold, the Guardian of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps" (Psalms 121:4). How can he, Bilam, possibly harm them when they have such a vigilant protector?

The text also touches on Israel’s unique spiritual practices. Unlike other nations who rely on divination and sorcery, Israel has a direct connection to God through the High Priest and the Urim and Tumim (oracular devices used on the High Priest's breastplate). And even more, the Jewish people have the power of repentance, which can negate any negative decree. "Who negates the omens of deceivers, and leads diviners astray" (Isaiah 44:25).

Finally, Bilam prophesies about the future of Israel, envisioning them as students sitting before God, learning Torah. Even the angels are curious about what God teaches them!

The midrash concludes with a description of the Israelites as lions, rising from sleep to proclaim God's oneness. Even demons flee from their declaration of faith. And in a fascinating detail, Bilam's death is connected to his initial mission. He is ultimately killed when the Israelites take revenge against the Midianites, fulfilling Bilam's own prophecy that Israel "will not lie down until it has devoured prey."

So, what are we to make of this strange and captivating story? Perhaps it's a reminder that even those who intend to harm us can be forced to speak blessings. Perhaps it's a testament to the enduring power of repentance and the unwavering protection of God. Or maybe, it's simply a reminder that things aren't always what they seem, and that even the most reluctant voices can be used for good.