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?

First steps, first words, first day of school….

These are all things that seem so important at the time. Actually, they truly are important at the time. But looking back, they sometimes don’t seem as exciting, and the memories fade.

For example, by the time someone is six, do you really remember the exact date of their first step? When Abby Wombach gave her amazing commencement address at Barnard (linked here in case you haven’t read it yet – it is not to be missed), do you think her parents said, “Oh, I remember the day she said her first word.”

The amazing thing about a first is that it’s a first of many. This is true of milestones that are the beginning of new phases, just as it’s true of hurdles that are the beginning of new improvements. For example, the first thing one must do if they want to build a habit of running is put on running shoes. That’s the first of many steps.

So firsts get a lot of attention – sometimes. I mean, do you really remember the first time you took a shower? Or the first time you read an email? Lots of firsts just happen. They’re just the stepping stone to the next and the next.

But there’s a first that happens in this week’s Torah portion that I don’t want to overlook. It’s the first time the word “amen” appears in the Torah. And actually, it appears twice.

Here’s what happens.

So let’s say there’s a married woman and her husband thinks she’s sleeping with someone else. The husband is jealous. But he doesn’t actually know if his wife was sleeping with someone else. So there’s a ritual to find out.

The jealous man takes his wife to the priest. The priest makes some bitter water and the wife is supposed to drink it. After she drinks, this concoction is going to reveal her guilt or her innocence and her life will proceed one of two ways depending on the results.

Just before she drinks, the priest says a blessing and the wife says amen. That’s the first time it appears in the Torah. Now before I tell you the rest of it, there’s one thing you should know about the word amen. It means belief. We say it in agreement after a blessing. Chiming in with: Yep, I believe that. I’m on board. Amen.

Okay, so the wife of the jealous husband – she’s called the sotah, by the way – she is to drink this bitter water because her husband is jealous. And before drinking, the priest explains what’s going to happen. He says if she’s not guilty, then she’ll be free of the curse of the bitter water (possibility number 1), and if she is guilty, then the bitter water will cause her a distended belly and her thigh will fall (possibility number 2).

After the priest explains the two outcomes, the woman says, “amen, amen.” So, she says it twice. Once for each outcome. I believe. I believe. Now, she already knows whether she’s slept with someone else, or not. But she doesn’t know how the bitter water is going to effect her. Yet she says, “amen, amen.” She’s accepting either outcome in advance.

Okay, all this witch hunting aside, can we look at how amazing this is? She’s already in this tight spot due to a jealous husband, so things don’t look so great. But the extra hard part is that she could end up cursed. And she’s saying amen?

The sotah declares acceptance of the verdict, whatever it will be. It may not be a happy moment, it may not be a statement of endorsement, but it is an affirmation that there is something bigger to believe in and an acknowledgement that this is out of her hands now. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be alright, even if it doesn’t turn out in her favor. Amen. Amen.

The person who can say that is a mighty, strong person, don’t you think?

The Talmud teaches us that we say blessings even when bad things happen, not just when good things happen. Why do you think that might be?

What do you have coming up, or in your life now, where you can say “amen amen” in advance of knowing the outcome?

Not you. I don’t mean I want you to go to Hell. But I needed to say it.

Go to Hell!!

Have you ever been so frustrated or angry or overwhelmed or distracted or focused or ashamed or trying to make amends or otherwise knee-deep in emotion and then reacted from that place?

There might be a time coming to mind right now. Remember?

And maybe you’ve been the recipient of that release from someone else. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time, getting the blame flung on you when you really had nothing to do with it and it had nothing to do with you.

You were the scapegoat.

That person felt bad – probably about something that he or she had done – and just took it out on you. Not because of anything you’d done or not done. Simply because

a) you were there and
b) that person needed to get it out.

This week’s Torah portion talks about the scapegoat. But in this case, it’s an actual, four legged, rock-climbing, tin-can-eating, cute-enough-for-goat-yoga: goat. Like this these cuties.

Seriously adorable.

Back in the day of Aaron the High Priest, one of these two goats might have been a designated scapegoat. That means that the transgressions of the people would be let out on this goat.

Imagine yourself frustrated after a long day. You might punch a punching bag, right? As an example. The punching bag is then the recipient – the scapegoat – for all that pent up emotion. As much as you think that it was all other people’s fault, there is a part of you that didn’t act the way you wish you had in the moment.

Thank you punching bag.

Thank you scapegoat.

On Yom Kippur, Aaron (or the successor High Priests) would place all the transgressions, iniquities, and sins of the people on one scapegoat and send it out. Out where? To Azazel. Just like an angry Israeli might say, “Lech L’Azazel,” which we would translate as “Go to Hell.”

But wait… I thought Jews don’t believe in Hell.

If you’ve grown up in America, a Christian culture, you might think of Hell as the fiery eternal opposite of Heaven. That is not Azazel.

Aaron put the sins on the scapegoat and then sent it to Azazel. That is, he sent it out into the wilderness, to an inaccessible region (Lev. 16:22). What can we learn from this? You can let the scapegoat take all the blame, send it away from you, and wipe your hands clean of all that yuck.

Right?

Well, how do you feel when you blame someone (something) for all your problems? Wouldn’t it be nice to have them go away, to an inaccessible region?

In fact, when we put our problems on a scapegoat, they do become inaccessible – and unresolvable.

The scapegoat was only one small part of Aaron’s ritual.

And when we place our problems on a scapegoat, it should only be after we’ve done all the other things we can do to actually help ourselves. Only then are we truly able to put the issue to bed, to part ways with it, to send it out to Azazel.

My friend Shira Gura, a mindset and transformation coach and creator of The S.T.U.C.K. Method for Getting Unstuck, suggests the following five-step ritual for dealing with strong emotions – rather than just putting them on a scapegoat.

1. ​S. Stop. When you’re steeped in emotion, stop. It can be for a minute or a day. Stop to breathe, to give yourself time to collect yourself.
2. T. Tell. Tell yourself what you’re feeling. Are you angry? Disappointed? You can’t address an emotion before you know what it is. And it might be more than one emotion.
3. U. Uncover. Uncover the reason behind this. Why are you feeling that way right now? There could be many reasons. Find out what’s going on.
4. C. Consider. Consider different perspectives for looking at this situation. You don’t need to agree with them, just consider them. She has a great method for this.
5. K. OK. It’s okay that you got stuck in one spot. Humans do this. It has happened to everyone and will continue to. You can use this tool over and over again.

​I would add that the K step is where you can place that problem on the head of the goat, give it an loving kiss, and send it off to Azazel. The goat can live happily in the desert and you can live happily moving on from being stuck on your strong emotion without placing the blame on any scapegoat other than this one.

If you want to find out more about The S.T.U.C.K. Method, you can check out Shira’s website, courses, and podcast here.

The stories on this website are a selection of the stories compiled into A Story Every Week (Three Gems Publishing, Sept. 2018). Sign up here to get notification when the book is released. It will be free for the first few days of publication.

You didn’t think there was such a thing as a fun fact about lice, did you? Okay, full disclosure, the word fun might just be in there for the sake of illuminating alliteration. But I stand by the information, and you might want to read it in case you ever find yourself going head to head with a louse.

• Lice are icky. The bugs themselves might not think so, but most humans who host them on their heads do so involuntarily and with a grimace once they discover the pests.
• They like to hide. When looking for lice on the head of a human, be sure to check behind the ears and at the nape of the neck. You’re more likely to find them there, especially if they’re new residents.
• The eggs are sticky. While the lice are black and creepy, the eggs are white and stationary. They stick to the hair. So if you see something white in your (or someone else’s) hair, and it can easily be blown or brushed off, this is not an egg. Also, if you find something white on the scalp: not a louse egg. (Yay!) The eggs stick to the hair and need to be pulled off. Imagine putting your nails on either side of something small, oblong, and kind of like almost dry Elmer’s glue, and needing to slide it down the hair in order to get it off. That would be an egg.
• They’re not just after your hair. Lice can live on furniture, clothing, bedding, rugs, and stuffed animals for a whole day without any humans. But they ultimately need humans, so if they come in contact with one when they’re in the bedding, they will hop right on.
• You can get rid of them! It’s hard though. There’s a reason they’re called a plague! Like all living things, lice need oxygen. So if you’re not into pouring poison on your head, you still have oxygen deprivation options. Some people accomplish this by coating their hair in mayo and covering with a shower cap. This does work. Whether you go through your head before or after this amazing spa treatment to remove bugs and eggs one by one, you’re going to want to be sure to include that step, too. Doing enormous amounts of laundry is also highly encouraged.
• You can prevent lice from coming. This isn’t a full guarantee, so don’t come after me if it doesn’t work, but keeping your hair short or put up will help keep lice way. Don’t share hats. Never try on hats at a store (your mom probably told you that). And use a shampoo with tea tree oil. This is gross to lice, but still helps you smell like a clean human.

Is your head itching?

Sorry about that.

But another thing you can learn about lice is that you cannot get them through the power of suggestion. If they weren’t hanging out on your head a minute ago, they’re not there now. If you want, if you live nearby, we can meet up and I can check your head. I am an expert lice checker with over 20 years of experience.

Fun thing to have on a resume, I know. But it’s helpful.

And now if you’ve stomached this story all the way to here, you might be wondering why I’m even talking about lice. Thank goodness it’s not because I have them! Nor does anyone in my house. I just wanted to share this information with you because I can. Because I’ve been there. Because I know.

And it’s helpful, isn’t it? Not fun. That was maybe misleading. But if you get lice, you know what to do now, right? Because I wrote it down… and sent it to you… based on already knowing what to do myself.

Just like in this week’s Torah portion! Yes, Tazria/Metzora is the double portion read this week, and while not about lice, it goes into definitely-not-fun detail about how to treat skin issues. How do you know when the contagion period? How long does it last? What should you do to treat the person? When should they be isolated?

Well, if you ever get stuff oozing out of your skin, what would you do? Maybe… go to a doctor? Because a doctor has more experience with this than you do? (Just like I have more lice experience. Not to brag, or anything.)

Back in the desert after leaving Egypt, those “doctors” were called priests. The priests were the ones who knew about puss and blood and contamination and cleanliness. As much as anyone could know in those days, anyway. These days people often look at the leprosy parts of the Torah and say, “Ew, this is icky.” I cannot disagree. But it was important. It still is important, we just deal with it differently these days.

Wishing you a shabbat shalom, and a day – followed by a lifetime of days – without icky stuff happening on your body. But since that’s probably not going to happen, may you have someone to go to for help.

The stories on this website are a selection of the stories compiled into A Story Every Week (Three Gems Publishing, Sept. 2018). Sign up here to get notification when the book is released. It will be free for the first few days of publication.