Another Silly Balak Story

🦓 The Donkey with Daas Torah: A Super Yeshivish Parshas Balak Tale 🕍

In the times of the Midbar, when Klal Yisrael was marching through the desert with their pots of cholent and their portable mishkan, there was a king named Balak who was shvitzing from fear.

“Too many Yidden!” he said, chewing his nails and pacing around in his royal Crocs. “They’re gonna eat all the kugel and take over the whole shuk!”

So what did he do? He called up the top nevui-dike, kabbalah-dike, parsha-predicting, internationally certified Bilam ben Be’or. He even sent him a fruit platter and a gift card to Moab’s fanciest deli.

Balak: “Nu, Bilam. Be a tzaddik. Come curse the Yidden for me!”

Bilam: “Let me first check with the Ribono Shel Olam. Hold please.”

He davened Mincha, checked his NaviChat™, and G-d told him, “Don’t you dare go. They’re Mypeople.”

So Bilam tells the messengers, “Sorry, Hashem said no.”

But when Balak sent even fancier messengers—this time with VIP passes to the Moab Stadium and a shaitel for his wife—Bilam went back to Hashem like, “Soooo, how about now?”

Hashem (sighing): “Go. But only say what I tell you. No shtick.”

So Bilam hops on his donkey, named Feigele, who was from a very chashuv bloodline of speaking donkeys (her zaidy was the one from Pirkei Avos who said, “Ehhh, be careful before you say Lashon Hara”).

As they’re riding along, suddenly—BOOM!—an angel with a flaming sword blocks the path.

Bilam? He sees nothing. He’s too busy updating his LinkedIn profile: “Cursing Consultant. Specializing in Israelite Complications.”

Feigele, the ehrliche donkey, sees the malach and swerves into a field.

Bilam: “Feigele, this is not a Petting Zoo!” Smack!

Next, she squishes his leg against a wall.

Bilam: “Oy, my gam-knee!” Smack!

Then she lies down in the road like a tired Bais Yaakov girl after dance class.

Bilam (full-on losing it): “You’re a mechayev misa donkey!!” Triple smack combo!

Suddenly, Feigele turns around and says:

“Bilam, Tatteleh. Have I ever acted like this? Huh? Use your seichel!”

Bilam: “Wait. Are you… talking?! Should I be saying Modeh Ani right now?”

Then poof! The malach appears with a sword taller than the Aseres Hadibros.

Angel: “Listen here, Reb Bilam. If not for your donkey, you’d be a hot kugel on the floor. Say thank you.”

Bilam gulps. “Feigele, I’m mamash sorry. You want a carrot muffin?”

So Bilam finally gets to Balak, who’s standing on a mountain ready to livestream the curse.

Balak: “Okay, you ready? Say the thing! Curse away!”

Bilam opens his mouth and out comes:

“Ma tovu ohalecha Yaakov!”

Balak: “WHAT?! That was a blessing! Who gave you the Artscroll version?!”

Bilam: “I warned you! Hashem’s words, not mine.”

Three times he tried—three times he gave brachos that would make even the Vilna Gaon say “Wow.”

Balak stomped, huffed, puffed, and canceled his Charcuterie Board subscription.

And Bilam rode off into the sunset… with Feigele the donkey giving a shiur on Hashgacha Pratisbehind him.

⸻

Takeaway: Even the biggest big shots can be outsmarted by a donkey with yiras Shamayim.