Balaam

 When the donkey saw the angel of the LORD, it lay down under Balaam, and he was angry and beat it with his staff. Then the LORD opened the donkey’s mouth, and it said to Balaam, “What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times? ”

Balaam answered the donkey, “You have made a fool of me! If only I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now. ”

The donkey said to Balaam, “Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?”

“No,” he said.

Then the LORD opened Balaam’s eyes, and he saw the angel of the LORD standing in the road with his sword drawn. So he bowed low and fell facedown.

Numbers 22:27-31

The Bible has only two stories that feature animals who talk (to humans, that is), and if you had to guess, a snake and a donkey might not be the first you’d pick as most likely to start a conversation, which might be part of the fun here. What does a serpent want to discuss that your dog doesn’t? When is a squirrel most likely to interrupt? What are pressing matters for a donkey? These are intriguing questions. The thought of living in a world where animals, any animals, burst into speech at odd moments isn’t odd at all for children who still inhabit fairy tales and Sesame Street, and perhaps it shouldn’t be odd for adults either. In Scripture, animals are everywhere, and God has been known to give ravens, whales, and lions big roles at key junctures. In the book of Jonah, God even ordains a worm. Quite a few prophets wouldn’t have survived without the creatures God sends to feed, save, or swallow them (or not swallow them, in the case of Daniel and those lions). And we know about the friendly beasts that kept baby Jesus company in the stable in Bethlehem, and then, apparently, sang songs about it. 

If God can call a worm as well as a prophet, or talk to a whale as easily as a human being (more easily, probably, given our track record), what would it be like to let go of an anthropocentric view of the universe to listen to their take on things? The animals in Scripture, talking or not, could be our summons to another world, and listening to their side of a story is a spiritual discipline many of us could benefit from. What does the lion say about the night Daniel was dropped into its den? How does the worm tell its call story? How does the whale talk about how it once had to reroute its migration pattern and swim hundreds of miles out of its way to swallow and then spit out a creature that tasted terrible and moaned the whole way? St. Francis of Assisi would have been interested to hear. What’s more, he would have asked, and suggested we do the same. 

So would Balaam son of Beor. Balaam was a local seer, mystic, and medium-for-hire in Canaan when the Israelites were beginning their invasion of the land. The kings in the region were understandably concerned, and one of them, Balak son of Zippor, tried to enlist Balaam to put a curse on the invaders and their god. Balaam agreed to make contact with the Lord, and when he did, he was told to shut up and mind his own business. “The people are blessed,” the Lord said. “Don’t curse them, don’t pursue this further, and don’t you do or say a thing unless I tell you.” 

Balaam was used to being a middleman (between the earthly and spirit realms, that is), and perhaps he thought there might be a way to talk to all sides at once, in this particular triangle, and still get paid. He saddled up his donkey to ride to King Balak, not realizing that the Lord had set an angel with a flaming sword in the middle of the road to block his way. But the donkey saw what was coming. Three times she tried to turn around, and each time Balaam beat the creature, growing more and more angry. Finally, the donkey gave up. “Have you lost your mind?!” she demanded. “Do you think I’d put on the brakes if I didn’t have a good reason? Have I ever done anything like this, in all the years I’ve been carrying you?!” Balaam had to admit the donkey hadn’t. And at that moment, God opened Balaam’s eyes, and he saw what had been waiting for him, a murderous angel, sword in hand, who by then was hopping mad. 

Balaam got an earful as the angel reamed him out. The only reason he was alive, the angel shouted, was because his donkey had seen what Balaam hadn’t, and turned around. If it weren’t for that, the angel would have slain Balaam right there and sent the donkey home without a scratch. So what did he think of that?! 

Balaam apologised to all beings present and took the reprimand: Don’t you do or say a thing unless the Lord tells you. If he and the donkey ever spoke again, we don’t know. Perhaps they did. Or maybe Balaam just paid closer attention, now that he knew he lived in a world where animals, any animals, burst into speech at odd moments. Maybe he had a deeper sense of what it is to be a middleman listening for the spirit’s voice amid a universe of wondrous, mysterious languages. Most of which we have yet to learn.