Balaam, the prophet, is sent for by Balak, king of Moab. The Israelites are encamped along the edges of Moab and Balak is afraid of being overrun. He is afraid of losing power and he is afraid of losing the protection of the Moabite god. He has, however, heard of this awesome holy person, Balaam, who has done deeds of power and seems especially good at the blessing and curse business. Balaam agrees to go to Moab, but only after he takes the time to reflect on this, not for wealth, but for his spirit. Along the way, though, Balaam is woken to just what the Holy thinks about this desire of Moab to curse the Israelites. Balaam's lowly mount perceive quite clearly the angel with a sword on the path to Moab and wants nothing to do with crossing G-d. It takes this extraordinary resistance from the least expected being to wake Balaam to what the Holy wishes, which is not the same as what Balak wishes. Balaam goes on to bless the Israelites repeatedly, despite Balak’s desires.
When do we resist earthly power? Most of us have rather limited powers or feel we do, even if we have more authority and power than we might think we do. The easiest ways to prevent change in a republic or democracy is to convince the people that they have less power to advocate and make change than they do, and if they insist on trying to advocate and make changes to discount them as illegitimate (questioning their votes or right to vote, discouraging people from voting or advocating with all kinds of tools, sowing mistrust and hatred). Balaam repeatedly reminds Balak that he can only say what is pleasing to the Holy, not just agree with what is pleasing to Balak. Rather frequently, earthly powers threaten people’s lives and well-being, through nurturing hate or mistrust, jealousy or greed, through disempowering folks, and through denying people what is necessary for decent lives. We might be like Balaam’s donkey, shying away from the signs of hard-heartedness, and we might be rather more like the prophet himself, gathering up our courage to say the difficult and necessary thing.
When do we resist earthly powers asking us to curse another? Here are all these people seeking a place to settle, displaced and dispossessed but free, yearning for a home and a chance to live a good life. They are ranged along the border, and on the other side of that border, the primary earthly authority becomes afraid that his power will lessen, that his authority might not be so secure, because there are all these people. Here is truth: when we make way and welcome one another we, too, will change. When we are the ones welcomed in, we will also change. Exactly how, no human being can know in advance. It is the fear of changing and being changed that can stop congregations from growing, sticking to the people they know and are comfortable with. It is the fear of changing and being changed that drives harsh and cruel immigration policies and sharp, punitive borders. It is the fear of changing and being changed that can cause many of us to shake our heads at that harshness but do little to stop it.
We are not in this life to stay the same. From the moment we are born until we die, we have the opportunity to grow, develop, and change. Life is change. We have some choices in those changes, directed by how wise, compassionate, generous, or loving we might be, or how fearful, greedy, jealous, or hateful we are. But the idea that if we do nothing or if we act harshly to guard our borders means we will not change is foolishness as well as hard-heartedness. Cursing others to try and bless ourselves never turns out well for very long.
How we change and adapt to change matters. Perhaps you know a friend or family member who has faced a major change in their lives — a loss, an illness, unemployment, a hate crime — and the way they try to manage that change is to pretend that no change is happening and that they adaptation or acceptance of change isn’t needed. Perhaps you also know a friend or family member who met a major change in their lives with acceptance that this is what is and figured out how to live heartfully and wholly, adapting the best they could to the loss, illness, employment situation, or aftermath of violence. Who do we want to be? Do we want to carry on as though the trouble we have is inconsequential and requires nothing of us? Or do we heed the angel in the road and consider the adaptations required to live faithfully and heartfully? I’ve both ignored the angel in the road and heeded that angel at differing times of my life. It isn’t always comfortable or rarely joyful to acknowledge the angel and try to discern how to live with the situation.
The call to resist earthly powers seeking to curse vulnerable people in need is one of those angel in the road times in our lives. Will we advocate for those as or more vulnerable than ourselves? Will we turn again and again to how we can help, accepting that we will change and be changed in these encounters? Shall we run the risk of authorities threatening us or demeaning us or grouping us with those who are untrustworthy? And if we do take those risks, how will we change and adapt to the consequences of disturbed authorities?
Whenever we meet challenges, we meet times of change and adaptation. We will need to take some time, like Balaam, to consider the transient and permanent, what should be passing away and what should endure. Balaam was leaning toward the Holy and how to live faithfully with the Source of Being. But the angel in the road and his steadfast, humble donkey had to show Balaam just some of what living faithfully would require in frustrating and angering earthly power. Where are we meeting angels in the road today, asking us to attend, challenging us to change and care for the vulnerable, the earth, the whole of life’s being?
