Once there was a king named Balak. Balak lived in the land of Moav. He had heard word of a people who had come out of Egypt and become mighty, and he was afraid that these people would overpower his own.

So he made a plan.

Balak sent word to Balaam ben Beor to come and curse these people, the Children of Israel. Balaam said he couldn’t do it, not for all the gold and riches that Balak was offering, or even for more. Balaam explained that he could not curse those that God has blessed.

But Balak said Balaam should sleep on it. Maybe he’d have a different opinion in the morning.

In fact, when morning came, Balaam hadn’t fully come around, but agreed to go with Balak’s people to the Children of Israel, even though he didn’t commit to cursing them when they got there.

Balaam saddled his ass and rode toward the Israelites’ camp. Along the way, an angel stood in the path with a sword to smite Balaam. Balaam didn’t see the angel, but his donkey did. The donkey turned off the path for a safer journey.

Balaam was angry at his donkey and hit her. She returned to the path, but the angel came again. This time they were riding by a vineyard, and in order to save Balaam, the donkey veered to the side, bumping Balaam’s leg on the vineyard’s fence, and receiving another beating for doing so.

Further along the path, the angel came for a third time. This time, the path was narrow, and there was no way for the donkey to go around. In order to save her rider from the sword, the donkey laid down in the path and refused to move forward. And she received another beating from her rider.

With this, God gave the ass the ability to speak. She said to Balaam, ‘Haven’t I been reliable to you for many years? Why are you beating me?’ And God opened Balaam’s eyes so that he could see the angel with the sword at the ready that the ass had always seen.

And before I tell you what happened next, I want to ask you these questions:

DO YOU HAVE A TALKING ASS IN YOUR LIFE? DO YOU NEED ONE?

Balaam couldn’t see what was right before his eyes. We might consider angels hard to see, but I would like to propose that in a story where a donkey can see the angel, it’s plausible that the human could have, too. Yet Balaam was missing this.

And I think we all fall into this accidental blindness sometimes. We set our mind to a path, maybe one that on the inside didn’t feel just right to begin with (or maybe it did), and we follow the path. One foot in front of the next.

As we go along that path, we get annoyed when something derails us. We have our minds set on the destination. Or on the journey we’re expecting. Or maybe the thing we’re going to do next. So we see these other things that crop up as road blocks or hindrances, when maybe they’re little gifts trying to get us to go the right way. We lash out and become our own biggest obstacle.

When we get too absorbed on this wrong path, we don’t question it. We just keep going. And we get used to keeping going. And we go some more. And it takes something as surprising as a talking ass to wake us up from autopilot so that we finally look up and correct course.

Now, this isn’t meant to be an article about blessings and curses, the Children of Israel, or God; it’s about the wake-up factor of the talking ass. But I’ll tell you what happened with Balaam. He went to the camp of the Israelites, and he looked over them and… blessed them. After all, he knew he wouldn’t curse them.

Do you want to be with loved ones when it happens? By yourself? At home? In a hospital? What about on vacation? Or in jail? Do you want to die of old age? How about young and in battle, fighting for what you believe in? Do you want to die doing an extreme sport? While sleeping? While meditating? In a natural disaster? Do you want to die of hunger? Or cold? Do you want to die while listening to music? While at work?

For most of us, this is something we might think about and even have desires about, but feel we have minimal control over.

There were some things about death in this week’s Torah portion, Chukat, that really caught my attention.

First of all, in this portion, we learn of the deaths of our leaders: Miriam, Aaron, and Moses.

Miriam was the first of them to die. Let me set the scene.

The Children of Israel were wandering in the desert rather than just passing through – thanks to their disbelief in God’s ability to get them safely to The Land. “The People were staying in Qadesh, and Miriam died there, and was buried there.” (Numbers 20:1)

Now, I want to tell part of the story of what happened next, and I promise I will tell the rest of it in a minute. But here’s the relevant piece for now.

Chapter 20 verse one tells us that Miriam died. And verse two tells us that there was no water there and The People were thirsty (this makes sense….). But God is God, so this was not an insurmountable problem.

God told Moses and Aaron to gather the congregation as witnesses and to speak to a rock and water would flow from it and be enough for all the people as well as their livestock. Moses and Aaron gathered the people, Moses raised his rod, hit the rock twice, and water flowed. Out came enough for all the people and livestock.

(Do you notice that what Moses did wasn’t exactly what God told him and Aaron to do?)

Aaron was the next sibling to die.

The story of his death is a little longer than Miriam’s. First of all, the Torah tells us explicitly that this death was a direct result of him not obeying God about the water and rock incident. Secondly, since he was The High Priest, there were some logistics to take care of. Aaron and Aaron’s son El’azar and Moses went off to a mountain in Hor and there was a transfer of power.

El’azar became The Cohen HaGadol – The High Priest – and descended the mountain with Moses. Aaron never came down because he was “gathered to his people.” That is, he died. And the people mourned for him for thirty days.

Moses, the last of the three siblings to die, doesn’t die in this portion, but he’s told that he will die before entering The Land. Like with Aaron, it is made explicit that this is a direct consequence from the hitting of the rock, rather than speaking to it. The story of Moses’ death is longer than that of either Miriam’s or Aaron’s, but happens later — it’s the end of The Five Books of Moses.

Now here’s the part of this week’s Torah portion that I said I would come back to.

Right after Miriam died, the people complained because there was no water. Of course, without water, humans can’t live. And so they expressed that they would have preferred being consumed by the earth like their brethren were just one Torah portion before this one. That’s what happened in Korach, when the earth opened up and swallowed the rebels (in case you missed it).

Now the “funny” thing is – I don’t know if you remember – that just a couple weeks ago (in Torah reading) they were going to go to The Land, but there were “giants” there. Remember that? So the people asked why they would be killed there instead of just dying in The Wilderness. Back then dying in the wilderness sounded like the way to go. Their wish was granted with a proclamation that they would wander the desert for 40 years until the old generation died out.

But of course when it was time to die in the wilderness, then they were back to wishing they’d either have been swallowed by the hole in the earth that they ran screaming from, or that they’d just died in Egypt instead of in this place that had no figs or cucumbers or melons … or water.

In other words, they didn’t want to die of thirst.

Like in the portion a couple weeks ago, they didn’t want to die by being swallowed into the earth.

And before that, they didn’t want to die at the hands of the “giants” in The Land.

And before that, they didn’t want to die by drowning in the Red Sea.

And before that, they didn’t want to die as slaves in Egypt.

So…

I don’t know about you, but I see a common thread here. They don’t want to die. Well, at least that’s what they’re saying. And I’m sure there’s some truth in that, but given the context, I feel like there’s something else they’re asking for/complaining about.

I think they don’t want to fear. And in a classic “the grass is always greener” move, they seem to be saying that they were less afraid of death before, and it would’ve been nice to die before they had to endure this new fear.

Do you see that? Or is it just me?

Fear is an awful feeling. In the scenarios I mentioned above about ways to die, some of them might have invoked strong feelings in you. Some of them might have made you feel calm about dying that way, some of them might have made you fearful.

We actually get very little say in how or where we will die. But we experience losses and uncertainty and all sizes of fears even before facing death, and we do have some control over how much we will fear. Just as The Children of Israel could have thought to themselves, “God has saved us from literally every other near-death experience we’ve had since leaving Egypt, so we are sure to get the water somehow. Won’t it be cool to see what miracle happens next?”

They could have said that. They had basis for it. It was a legitimate way of looking at the situation.

Here’s the thing: Fear and curiosity cannot exist at the same time.

Isn’t that cool? Try it sometime when you’re afraid. Try to approach the situation with curiosity and see what happens. You might just get your own little miracle.

Who remembers the 90s classic movie Home Alone? Macaulay Culkin was tired of his family and wished he could have some space. The next morning as everyone rushed out of the house, they forgot him… home alone. It had some perks, but ultimately he was really feelin’ that phrase, “Be careful what you wish for.”

And what about the 1987 comedy Planes, Trains, and Automobiles? Remember that one? Steve Martin and John Candy were trying to get from New York to Chicago when their plane was rerouted to Witchita. After a train ride to a field in Missouri, a bus ride to St. Louis, various incidents with cars, and eventually a ride in a refrigerator truck, they made it to Chicago two days late – having argued all the way.

Put Home Alone and Planes, Trains, and Automobiles together, rewind a few thousand years, set it in the desert, and you’ve got this week’s Torah portion: Shalach.

We all know the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. The Sinai Peninsula is about 150 miles wide. So, to walk across it with a million people would take…. well, a long time. To walk anywhere with a million people would take a long time.

But… not that long. I mean, 150 miles… If you don’t spend a lot of time in the Middle East, let me give you a different reference point. That’s about the distance from Houston to Austin. It’s not a Sunday stroll in the park, but neither is it the Appalachian Trail.

We have stories of people going back and forth all the time. Abraham and Sarah went from Israel (Cana’an) to Egypt and back again. Joseph was sold into slavery in Israel and then lived in Egypt. His brothers went down to Egypt and back again for food – twice – and then moved there with all their families.

It’s really not that far.

So a couple months out of slavery and into the wilderness, The Children of Israel were getting ready to enter The Land of Israel. Moses sent 12 men – one from each tribe – to scope out the place. After all, there were people living there already. They were preparing for war. You know, all that census taking of men who could fight… The good news for them was, winning was a sure thing. They had God on their side.

Still, wise to check it out, right? They were sent to find out about the land.

• Are the people there strong or weak?
• Few or many?
• Is the land they dwell on good or bad?
• Are their towns open or fortified?
• Is the soil rich or poor?
• Wooded or not?

So those 12, they’re called the twelve spies, went up to scout it out and answer the questions. No biggie. They could go there, do what they gotta do, and come back. Like I said, it’s not that far. The Torah tells they were gone for a total of 40 days (whatever that may mean).

Now here’s what happened. When those spies came back from seeing The Land and its inhabitants, ten of them filled the congregation with fear. Yes, they admitted, the land is flowing with milk and honey and fruit, just as promised. But they also spoke of giants that lived there. They said going there was undeniable doom. They had been brought out of Egypt just to die in battle. Better that they would die in the wilderness, they complained.

And their “wish” was granted.

Even though Caleb and Joshua were two spies who spoke out against the other ten, they couldn’t rally the Children of Israel away from their fear. Even though Caleb and Joshua told of the beauty and bounty of the land, they couldn’t convince the masses. Even though Caleb and Joshua reminded everyone that God (aka the one who had just performed all those miracles) said it was going to be okay, it was still a no go.

Caleb and Joshua were fed up. And they weren’t the only ones. God was fit to be tied. God complained to Moses about all the complaining. God decided to destroy the Children of Israel and make an even greater nation out of Moses. Well, that didn’t happen. Do you know why?

Moses talked God back to God’s senses. Moses reminded God that there was a reputation to uphold. After all, God had brought them out of Egypt to show power. What would everyone think if they all just died in the desert? They’d think God wasn’t strong enough to bring them into Israel, that’s what they’d think.

Before I get to the end of this story, I want to ask you two questions:

What do you think about God wanting to call it quits? 

What do you think about the way Moses spoke to God?

To me this is a bit reminiscent of that time long ago that Abraham negotiated with God to save the city of Sodom if there were ten good people living there. But this negotiation has a different feel to me. To me it seems like this was Moses reminding God of the big picture, reminding God not to react, but to stay on task.

God didn’t smite them all, but did decide that those who didn’t have the faith to enter The Land at The Time would get their wish to die in the desert. The next forty years – one year for each day of the spies’ journey – were spent growing a new generation and waiting for that one to die off in the wilderness – as they’d wished. Except, of course, for Caleb and Joshua who (spoiler alert) were still alive and got to enter The Land.

It didn’t need to be like that, did it? Why couldn’t The Children of Israel just not be dissuaded? All the miracles they’d experienced! All the times God had helped them! All the times they’d already “messed up” and been punished and seen the light! Why didn’t they just trust that it would work out?

Well, why don’t you?