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We read Parshat Balak after reading of battles when it seems that the Israelites are gaining power in the area. The Parsha devotes a great deal of space to the story of King Balak and the prophet Bilaam and the king's persistent request for Bilaam to curse the Jewish people. Like an Escher painting, we have stories embedded into stories when we learn about a vision that is not seen, a donkey who becomes an emissary of God and talks.
This parsha is about perceptions. It is about what we see and what we don't see and perhaps what we miss when we do not see.
Even a prophet, who is known for seeing, misses the message of the angels.
This poem is about what we miss when we are looking down instead of around. Although it is not about angels and prophecy, it is about things we miss when our heads are down.
While I Was Scrolling
The sun was eclipsed by the moon
A pitcher pitched a no-hitter
A freight train passed by a red light.
Fifty two cars thundered by.
My shoulders shook
but
my head never lifted.
My eyes were on my phone
The sunset's smudged pinks and oranges
lit up the sky like a glowing torch.
A glorious sunset worthy of a blessing.
You never saw it
Your head was bowed
to the god of the internet
You were checking tomorrow's weather
A river could run backwards
and we would be texting
The sea could split
And we would be on Instagram
seeing people's vacation photos.
Elijah's chariot could soar to the heavens
trailing lightning
While we check our stock portfolios.
The Bat Kol, could call to us
and we would not hear it over the din
of our earphones.
Ayecka? Are you there?
You looks into your screen.
You are hiding in your phone.
God's angel could appear
with sword in hand
ready to smite.
The donkey could see this scene
but you could not.
Your eyes were clothed with
ten thousand pixels.
It is not just the extraordinary that is missed
the rainbows,
the snowstorms,
cicadas,
journeys on airplanes,
the music of the wind.
It is the ordinary that we squander
Looking around when on our commute,
sitting in a coffee shop and seeing those around us
making eye contact with the people we pass by
and stand with at grocery check out lines
a simple greeting
So many opportunities
and we miss them
with our heads down
stubbornly,
unthinkingly,
willingly
And the most intimate moments,
An infant's gaze at his mother's eyes
as he nurses
and her eyes are turned toward a phone.
A talk with a child,
you are distracted
as your phone buzzes in your pocket,
that irresistible urge to view the message.
A visit with your old mother
As you sit, she snoozes and you search
for your beloved phone,
your charged companion,
it never disappoints you.
Within it, your own little universe
you search
for answers
for interest
for fun
for laughs
for what?
How high is the cost?
How many human interactions do we squander?
How many miracles do we miss?
How many missed opportunities
for the next big idea,
for a friendship,
for a connection,
to help someone,
to love someone.
It's never too late
to look up,
to look out,
to look from the inward
to the outward
to discover.
A Song of Ascents. I will lift up mine eyes unto the mountains: From whence shall my help come?
שִׁ֗יר לַֽמַּ֫עֲל֥וֹת אֶשָּׂ֣א עֵ֭ינַי אֶל־הֶהָרִ֑ים מֵ֝אַ֗יִן יָבֹ֥א עֶזְרִֽי׃
Numbers 22: 30-31 (Translation from Sefaria)
The ass said to Balaam, “Look, I am the ass that you have been riding all along until this day! Have I been in the habit of doing thus to you?” And he answered, “No.”
Then the LORD uncovered Balaam’s eyes, and he saw the angel of the LORD standing in the way, his drawn sword in his hand; thereupon he bowed right down to the ground.
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