This week we are reading a double Torah portion: Chukat and Balak. It covers Numbers 19:1–25:9. Together, these two portions mark a major turning point in the book of Numbers. The older generation that left Egypt has almost entirely passed away in the wilderness. Now, Israel stands on the edge of the Promised Land, facing two distinct types of challenges. First, they must deal with the internal, spiritual challenge of ritual purity after a season of immense death. Second, they face external political anxiety from neighboring nations that view their arrival as a threat.
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For thirty-eight years, the book of Numbers tracks an entire generation of adults dying out in the desert due to their rebellion at Kadesh Barnea. According to biblical law, encountering a corpse causes the highest level of ritual defilement. Because death was a daily occurrence in the camp, the entire nation had become ritually impure. They could not march into a land flowing with milk and honey while carrying the lingering ritual defilement of their wilderness judgment.
In Numbers 19, God instructs both Moses and Aaron on the law of the red heifer. The text says:
This is the statute of the law that the Lord has commanded: Tell the Israelites to bring you a red heifer without defect, in which there is no blemish and on which no yoke has ever been laid. (Num 19:2).
After slaughtering the perfect red heifer, its blood was to be sprinkled seven times near the Tabernacle. It was to be burned with cedar wood, hyssop, and crimson, and the ashes were carefully preserved. Every element of the ceremony was red, the color of blood. In the prophetic tradition, red later came to represent the stain of human transgression. Isaiah famously declared, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be like snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isa 1:18). The red heifer acted as a vessel absorbing the crimson stain of mortality and sin.
If anyone in the community encountered death, they were declared unclean for seven days. The only way to be purified was to go to the priest and be cleansed with the ashes of the red heifer on the third and seventh days. If the person did not abide by the law of the red heifer, they would defile the Tabernacle and be cut off from the community.
Much of the law in the Torah has obvious benefits for the welfare of the community or the individual. Yet certain laws make no rational sense. These are statutes with no explainable earthly purpose that completely defy human logic. Called chukkim, these laws are about pure obedience. The prohibitions against mixing milk and meat or blending wool and linen are classic examples. According to the rabbis, however, the law of the red heifer holds the crown as the most irrational of all the irrational statutes. Rabbinical sources note that even during the Roman occupation of Israel, the priests were teased by their overlords for this ritual, which the Romans viewed as primitive and superstitious.In Temple times, the ashes of the red heifer were held in a stone urn called the qalal. To attain Temple access, the faithful had to be sprinkled with these ashes. Even today, without the ashes of the red heifer, Israel cannot reinstate Temple worship and ritual sacrifice. Without them, all Jews remain technically in a state of ritual impurity, defiled by contact with death. Because there has not been a Temple for two millennia, the issue of the red heifer was long considered irrelevant. However, with Israelis visiting the Temple Mount in increasing numbers, the topic is once again up for discussion.
According to the Chief Rabbinate in Israel, only at the end of the Messianic process can a new red heifer be found and prepared for sacrifice. Still, members of the Temple Mount movement actively hunt for a red heifer that checks off every biblical requirement. When I read Israeli news, part of me half-expects the headline: “Red Heifer Without Blemish Identified in the Galilee.” If the Roman overlords teased the Israelite priests for the heifer ritual, I can only imagine the global scrutiny Israel would face in 2026.
Balak
Before the Israelites are set to enter the Promised Land, they encamp in the plains of Moab. Rumors of their victories have spread across the land. This was their staging ground before crossing the Jordan River. They stayed in this area for the remainder of the book of Numbers, the entirety of Deuteronomy, and the opening of Joshua.
By the time they arrive, rumors of their decisive military victories over the Amorites have already spread across the land. The King of Moab, Balak, fears the coming Israelites. Before he risks a physical battle with them, he attempts to wage a spiritual one. He hires the seer Balaam to curse the Israelites. We know from Egyptian records from this same time period that hiring seers to compose poetic curses against enemies was a common practice. The story fits perfectly into this ancient Near Eastern context.
King Balak sends a distinguished delegation of Moabite and Midianite elders to Pethor, Balaam’s hometown. They carry the fees for divination in their hands. They implore the seer to return with them, look out over the massive Israelite encampment, and pronounce a curse. At first, Balaam tells the messengers to lodge for the night while he consults the Lord. That night, God gives Balaam an absolute answer: do not go with them, and do not curse the people, for they are blessed. The next morning, Balaam sends the elders away, stating that the Lord refuses to let him go.
King Balak does not accept this refusal. He sends a second, larger delegation filled with even higher-ranking officials. They offer Balaam wealth, promotion, and honor if he will just comply. Balaam tries to sound pious, declaring that even if Balak gave him a palace full of silver and gold, he could not go beyond the command of the Lord. Yet, instead of sending them away based on God’s first answer, Balaam invites them to stay the night again to see what else the Lord might say. This time, God permits him to go with them, but on one strict condition: Balaam can speak only the exact words God provides.
The next morning, Balaam saddles his donkey and sets out with the Moabite officials. Even though God had technically given him permission to go, the text notes that God’s anger flares up because Balaam is going with a heart full of compromised motives and greed. The angel of the Lord stands in the road as an adversary, brandishing a drawn sword. Balaam is completely blind to this spiritual reality, but his donkey sees the angel clearly. The donkey speaks, scolding Balaam for being blind to the warning angel. It’s more like an Aesop’s fable than something normal to the Bible.
The moral message is clear, though. Balaam, it seems, is not worthy of the divine message he carries. The fact that God uses a talking donkey to state the obvious to Balaam demonstrates that God can choose whatever vessel he likes to channel his message. \Just because Balaam had a divine encounter with the God of the Hebrews, so could a donkey. Balaam’s essential nature was not changed by the encounter. Later, Balaam will be responsible for collaborating with the Moabites in a plot to seduce the Israelite men. He is not an innocent seer, but the words he speaks on a hill overlooking the plain come directly from God.
When Balaam finally arrives, King Balak takes him up to three different mountaintops. At each location, Balak builds seven altars and offers expensive sacrifices and then asks Balaam to issue a curse. But God places a physical block on the seer. Balaam discovers that he is completely and physically incapable of pronouncing a curse against the Hebrews. The moment he opens his mouth, his own volition is overridden by the Spirit of God. Much to Balak’s absolute shock and fury, the mercenary prophet breaks into majestic, soaring poetry that actively blesses Israel. He forecasts their military dominance over neighboring kingdoms, and directly echoes the Abrahamic covenant, declaring that those who bless Israel will be blessed and those who curse them will be cursed.
Each time Balaam tries to utter a curse, God hijacks his tongue. Instead of curses, blessings flow out. Even if Balaam is an opportunistic seer, God uses him to utter some of the most esteemed blessings ever spoken over the Hebrew people, oracles that endure for all time.
During his first oracle, Balaam utters one of the most famous verses in Jewish history: “For from the top of the crags I see him, from the hills I behold him; here is a people living alone, not reckoning itself among the nations” (Numbers 23:9). To this day, the nation of Israel still feels the sting and the comfort of this prophecy. They are indeed a people who dwell alone.
King Balak demands a second attempt, but Balaam explains his physical inability to curse what God has favored: “God is not a human, that he should lie, or a mortal, that he should change his mind. Has he promised, and will he not fulfill? See, I received a command to bless; he has blessed, and I cannot revoke it” (Num 23:19–20).
Looking down at the orderly camp, Balaam gave his third oracle: “How fair are your tents, O Jacob, your encampments, O Israel! Like valleys that stretch far away, like gardens beside a river, like aloes that the Lord has planted, like cedar trees beside the waters” (Num 24:5–6).
Balaam’s Today
Bible Fiber does not often venture into politics. That seems dangerous for Bible commentary. However, I was processing the weaknesses in the US-Iran Memorandum of Understanding this week while studying the blessings of Balaam. The parallel struck me. Once again, we have countries trying to manipulate the divine voice.
Balak wanted to attack the Israelite encampment when it was most vulnerable. When pronouncing a curse over Israel did not work, the Moabites resorted to an elaborate plot to destroy the covenant relationship from within (Num 31:16).
While Israel was busy dealing with the logistical reality of their camp, God was operating behind the scenes on the mountaintops. When the enemies of Israel plotted and schemed, God saw it and intervened. God turned the curses of their enemies into declarations of favor.
I am not worried about Israel. God will ensure that his covenant people remain in the covenant land. My worry is for America to go the way of Balaam. Recently, we have heard the equivalent of curses coming from the mouths of our own leaders. I pray with all my heart that as we approach our 250th anniversary, we will have a talking donkey put in our way. We need a donkey to knock some sense into us before we go too far down this road.
Discussion Questions
The Ritual and the Practical (Numbers 19)
In Numbers 19, God commands the use of the red heifer ritual to purify those who touch a dead body. Considering the decades of wilderness wandering, why would a specific ritual for managing death and defilement be so vital for the community’s survival and spiritual life at this specific moment?
Leadership Under Pressure (Numbers 20:1–13)
Look at the water crisis at Meribah in Numbers 20:1–13. God tells Moses to speak to the rock, but Moses strikes it twice instead while berating the assembly. Why do you think this specific act of disobedience was judged so severely that Moses was barred from entering the promised land? What does this reveal about the expectations placed on leadership?
The Danger of Compounding Failures (Numbers 21:4−9; 25:1−9)
Compare the story of the bronze serpent in Numbers 21:4–9 with the rebellion at Baal-peor in Numbers 25:1–9. In the first instance, the people look to a bronze serpent for healing after complaining. In the second, they actively participate in the worship of Midianite gods. How does the grumbling in the earlier chapters lay the groundwork for the total spiritual compromise seen at Baal-peor?