By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., in El Cajon, California
One of the great gifts of Torah is that it teaches us how to live and grow. Every parsha contains lessons that help us become more thoughtful, compassionate, and spiritually aware people.
One of the first lessons appears at the beginning of Parsha Chukat with the passing of Miriam. The Torah records her death with remarkable brevity. After decades of leadership, courage, and devotion to the Jewish people, the Torah simply tells us that Miriam died and was buried. Almost immediately afterward, the nation finds itself without water.
Our Sages explain that the miraculous well that accompanied the Jewish people throughout their years in the wilderness existed in Miriam’s merit. Only after she was gone did the people fully appreciate what she had quietly provided all those years.
There is a powerful lesson here. How often do we fail to recognize the blessings in our lives until they are no longer present? How often do we overlook the contributions of people who consistently support us because their efforts have become part of the background of our lives?
Miriam’s story reminds us to pay attention. Sometimes the most important influences in our lives are the ones we barely notice because they are so constant and dependable. The ability to notice what others overlook is a hallmark of spiritual maturity.
In these parshiot we are also introduced to one of the most unusual and memorable stories in the Torah. Bilaam is traveling to meet Balak, the king of Moav, who has hired him to curse the Jewish people. Along the way, an angel blocks the road. The problem is that Bilaam can’t see the angel, but his donkey can.
Three times the donkey changes course to avoid the danger. Three times Bilaam responds with anger and strikes the animal. Eventually, the Torah tells us that the donkey “speaks” to Bilaam and challenges him about his behavior. Shortly afterward, Hashem opens Bilaam’s eyes, allowing him to see the angel standing in his path. He then realizes that the donkey wasn’t being stubborn at all. The donkey had saved his life.
So, what are we supposed to learn from such a strange story? Rabbi Shmuel David Luzzatto notes that the Torah never explicitly says the donkey spoke in the conventional sense. Perhaps the donkey was simply expressing distress in a way that Bilaam understood. But regardless of how we understand the details, the lesson may be surprisingly relevant.
One of Bilaam’s greatest shortcomings was his inability to listen. He heard what he wanted to hear. He saw what he wanted to see. He interpreted events according to his own desires and assumptions. As a result, he completely misunderstood what was happening right in front of him.
Have you ever been so frustrated that you immediately assumed someone else’s intentions? Have you ever responded defensively before fully understanding what another person was trying to say? Have you ever been so focused on your own perspective that you overlooked someone else’s feelings? We all do it.
Good communication involves much more than hearing words. It requires listening carefully enough to understand what another person is actually experiencing and expressing.
Bilaam saw only an obstacle. He failed to recognize that the donkey was trying to help him.
The Torah is teaching us that one measure of maturity is the ability to pause, listen, and seek understanding before reacting.
Our Sages often describe Moshe and David as compassionate shepherds who paid close attention to those entrusted to their care. Their greatness wasn’t simply their leadership abilities. It was their sensitivity. They noticed what others overlooked. Bilaam failed that test. We can strive to pass it.
Perhaps one of the most important questions we can ask ourselves is: “Am I really listening?”
Not just to other people, but also to Hashem’s messages, life’s lessons, and the quiet inner voice that nudges us toward growth.
Another powerful lesson emerges from a seemingly unrelated section in Parsha Chukat. As Bnei Yisrael approach the Land of Israel, they defeat Sichon, king of the Emorites. The Torah then provides some historical background about a city called Cheshbon. At first glance, these verses seem like little more than ancient history. Yet our Gemara discovers within them one of the foundations of personal growth.
The word Cheshbon literally means “an accounting.” Rabbi Yochanan teaches that those who become masters over themselves are people who regularly make a cheshbon. They evaluate their actions. They examine their choices. They honestly assess where their lives are headed. This idea lies at the heart of Jewish self-improvement. Not surprisingly, modern psychology has discovered something very similar.
One of the most effective starting tools used in contemporary psychotherapy and mental coaching is self-monitoring. Research has shown that when people begin catching their thoughts, emotions, or behaviors, then change often follows naturally. Simply paying attention increases awareness, and awareness creates opportunities for growth.
One of the central teachings of contemporary Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy and Coaching is that people are not primarily disturbed by events themselves, but by the meaning and interpretation they attach to those events. This insight is far from new. In Proverbs 23:7 we read, “As a person thinks in his heart, so is he.” While scholars interpret this verse in various ways, it reflects a timeless understanding: our thoughts profoundly influence our feelings, choices, and experiences. The stories we tell ourselves, our thoughts, matter.
Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun.