Miracles are decisive. They change the trajectory of the story and the meaning of the outcome. Otherwise, why have miracles when natural means would do just as well? Without the plagues, the Exodus would be very different; without the birth of Isaac to centenarians, no Jewish people. The Torah records miracles when they make a profound difference.
Why then, is the story of Bilaam’s donkey in the Torah? After all, it does not alter the substance of what happens. In very brief summary: Balak instructs Bilaam to curse the Jews; Bilaam objects; Balak insists and Bilaam, driven by greed and given permission by God, goes to do so. On the path an angel stands in the way, seen by the donkey but not by Bilaam. He beats the donkey, who complains to Bilaam, until at last his eyes are opened. The story of the prescient and articulate donkey is diverting but not determinative. Bilaam was on track to bless Israel as God wished. He still proceeds to bless Israel but now leaves in his wake a very curious tale of a talking donkey.
We may understand the purpose of the tale better if we invoke another donkey, known to the history of philosophy. It was named after the 14th century philosopher Jean Buridan, and it posits a donkey equidistant between two bales of hay (or between water and hay, depending on the version). The donkey, being hungry, has to decide which bale of hay to eat. But since he is exactly between the two, there is no rational basis for deciding he should move toward one bale or the other. As this is a donkey driven entirely by reason, he constantly argues with himself between two equally balanced propositions. In the course of his endless, fruitless deliberations, the donkey dies of starvation.
The point of the parable is that there must be a value or principle that overrides logic alone. Without a value – even if that value sometimes is expressed in simple impulse – there is no rationale that can drive our lives.
The miracle in the Torah expresses the essential valuelessness of Bilaam. He does not care for himself if he curses Israel or blesses Israel. He does not care if he treats his faithful donkey well or badly. He cannot see the angel because without a value system one is unable to see. He knows that he cannot do what God forbids, but that is a conclusion of sober calculation, not reverence.
To move through life with a devotion to reason alone is to be blind. Bilaam thought himself enlightened because of the great prophetic powers with which he was endowed. Many gifted rationalists believe the same; how better to upend such a settled view than an absurdist marvel like a talking donkey.
The title of this article refers to three donkeys. In addition to that of Bilaam and Buridan, there is a donkey named in Zechariah, the donkey who will carry on his back the Messiah: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem; behold, your King comes to you; he is just, and victorious; humble and riding on a donkey…” (Zechariah 9:9).
The donkey, simple and labored though it may be, can see the angel and carry the Messiah. Neither the magician nor the philosopher can equal this outsized merit. As Bilaam’s donkey represents to us, redemption is possible when we see the other, when our actions are motivated not by the peremptory cruelty of a Bilaam, but by kindness.
The donkey that will bring the Messiah is, according to the Midrash, the same that Moses rode into the land of Egypt. We have tied together miracle, goodness and ultimate redemption. Reason is an essential tool but unless one reasons from some basis of faith and value, one ends up as the other English synonym by which the donkey is known.
The writer is Max Webb Senior Rabbi of Sinai Temple in Los Angeles and the author of David the Divided Heart. On Twitter: @rabbiwolpe.