I don’t want to talk about Balak.

Or his mission to get Balaam to curse the Israelites.

Or about Balaam’s curses that turn into blessings because the only words that can come out of his mouth are the words that God wants him to say.

Or about Balaam’s donkey and the angel with the drawn sword that blocks their way.

Or how Balaam beats his faithful donkey because he can’t see what his donkey can.

I don’t want to talk about how God finally gives the donkey the ability to speak, and how Balaam proceeds to have a conversation with him as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.

Or about Balaam’s inability to see despite, ironically, being a seer, which is why he is hired by Balak to curse the people Israel in the first place.

Or how it makes no sense that God gets angry at Balaam for going with Balak’s people even though God gave him permission just a minute ago.

I especially don’t want to talk about the bloody scene at the end of the parsha of Pinhas putting his sword through a “whoring” Midianite woman and her Israelite lover, and the contradictions in that story.

I just want to talk about the gratitude I have to be writing to you from “the country” where I am visiting a friend for a few days.

I want to tell you about the hammock hanging on her porch and how I’ve been gazing out at the woods, sleeping in a tiny tent, listening to the night sounds of the surrounding woods, the rushing water of a stream behind her house, and the rain on the leaves.

I want to tell you how grateful I am to be escaping the oppressive city heat, the garbage on the ground, and the incessant noise.

I want to tell you about the woods we lay down in, and the sparkling pond we went swimming in, the water so clear you can see the little stones at the bottom. And how I floated on my back and just listened to the silence of the water filling my ears as I stared up at the sky. And how healing it’s been.

I want to say that, even though I was “escaping the city" and its dirt, I still found garbage strewn in the woods. And somebody was playing loud music at the edge of the pond.

And I wished I could ignore the garbage and close my ears to the noise and escape the negative.

I want to say that, although sometimes we see things we wish we could close our eyes to, and go on our merry way, we can’t.

And there are times we try to see things, but we don’t, because we all have our blind spots.

May we be blessed with clear sight, with enjoying and loving this world while we’re in it, despite its imperfections.

May the curses that come from our frustrations turn to blessings, despite everything.

And may we be blessed with healing.

And let us say, amen.