the horizon toward us. It was the first frightful omen of an impending battle. Soon the ground would start to shake with the pounding of feet, a blast of trumpets, and then a crescendo of clanking weapons would follow.
“Why is Sihon, king of the Amorites, coming toward us with a huge army?” Tirzah asked. “Yahweh please, I don’t want to see any more fighting.”
“Sihon will not allow us to pass through his land, even though we promised not to use any water or take fruit from the fields,” said Mahlah. She always knew these things.
“The lands of Ammon, Moab, and Edom are not promised to the Children of Israel, so they should know there is no danger that we will try to take them. The land of Canaan is our Promised Land. We would not be fighting them if they did not attack us first.” Noah added. We had learned to trust that Yahweh would bring us victory, but it was hard to hold back the terror that gripped our dry throats.
The Israelite warriors rushed passed us to the front of the column with slings, bows, javelins, and swords. All of the rest of us fell back to relative safety, but we could certainly hear the cries and shouts of battle.
“How can we be sure that Yahweh really wants us to move on into this Promised Land? He constantly allows us to be attacked from all sides,” Hoglah said. She always asked the hard questions.
“But Yahweh also always sees us through the hardships, doesn’t he? The land may be promised to Israel, but the current residents refuse to acknowledge the rule of Yahweh. We have to strive toward possession with hardship and tears,” Mahlah said, always putting things into perspective for us.
It was enough to trudge forward day after day, one weary step at a time. Suddenly foreign armies appeared, angry shouts and fighting broke out, and we watched helplessly from a distance until Yahweh turned the tide and the battle was won. Afterward, when the fighting stopped, we had to walk past the field strewn with enemy bodies, injured horses, and broken chariots. We gathered bits of iron from broken enemy swords, which was a precious find. The Israelites only had weapons of softer bronze, and we did not have chariots drawn by horses. The enemy had better weapons than we did, yet we won battles because Yahweh gave us protection.
“They could have let us pass through their land peacefully; the fighting didn’t have to happen,” Milcah observed.
“Why does Yahweh allow death to occur, even to enemies?” Tirzah asked. She was wise beyond her years.
“Why don’t they join us in the worship of Yahweh, instead of their gods which are made by human hands? We have many foreigners with us that followed us out of Egypt,” Noah said, offering a solution. “Besides, Yahweh promised that all nations would be blessed through Abraham. Many foreigners are included in our history.”
We walked through empty villages where the women and children hid from us, only peering from behind vines and bushes like frightened animals. “I do not like the people being afraid of us,” our littlest sister observed.
“Are the Amorites really so bad that we had to fight with them?” Hoglah asked. “They think their gods are true and do not know any better.”
“They have heard about our God, Yahweh, and they can see how powerful, just, and, indeed, merciful he is, but their hearts are hard, they refuse to accept Yahweh,” Mahlah observed. “They do frightful things in their worship of Baal that are too awful to mention, and our people are easily seduced into their practices,” our wise oldest sister said. She knew more about these things. “Yahweh has demanded that these enemies be totally destroyed; how can we disobey Yahweh?”
All too soon, another battle followed. Og, the king of Bashan, blocked our path. We repeated often the song of Miriam: “Sing to the Lord, for he is highly exalted. The horse and its rider he has hurled into the sea.” We tried to remember the wonders of Yahweh performed in the past. Again, Yahweh said to Moses, “Don’t be afraid.” However, how could we not be afraid? We never got used to the fighting.
Did That Donkey Talk?
We were excited to be finally in sight of the Jordan River. Approaching Moab, a remarkable event occurred. Balak, the king of Moab was afraid of us. Even with all the hardships and battles, the population of the Israelites had increased. Balak was well aware of the battles that the Israelites had successfully fought. He said, “This horde is going to lick up everything around us, as an ox licks up the grass of the field.”
“Balak, the king of Moab, is wise enough to not cause another battle, but did you hear the unbelievable action he is taking?” Hoglah asked.
“He has sent for Balaam, a seer from northern Mesopotamia. He practices divination and can call down curses and blessings,” Mahlah said.
“He does what?” Tirzah looked puzzled.
“Apparently this man practices Babylonian astrological arts. Such people can call upon evil spirits to cause either blessings or curses upon a whole country. Balak is willing to pay a lot of money for this pagan seer to practice his powers of evil upon us.” Mahlah had her ways of getting information.
“Can things get any stranger?” Milcah asked.
“Well, his idea seems to be better than fighting,” observed Noah.
We gathered firewood some distance from the camp when we heard a shout of outrage. “Stupid beast, what are you doing? Get back on the road.” A man was beating his donkey with a stick. It was a pathetic sight. We would have loved to rescue the animal, which, for a donkey, was unusually handsome. Light-colored animals, like this one, were reserved for high officials.
For the moment, we forgot our task and our eyes were diverted to the scene below. Peering through vines, we saw the man tug his donkey back to the path. He climbed astride again but did not progress very far. Between the stone walls bordering the fields, the path became very narrow.
“Donkey, you idiot ass!” the man yelled with pain when his foot was crushed against a wall. He pounded the poor animal again.
“Something supernatural is going on here. Donkeys just don’t act like that,” Milcah said. She knew animals. For the second time the man continued on his way. We followed behind, just out of sight. The path became so narrow that the donkey could barely squeeze through. Now suddenly, the animal’s legs just buckled under the rider. Senselessly, the rider kept up the beating.
“What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times?” we heard braying across the valley. The voice was not human, yet we could understand it.
“Who said that?” we asked, stopped in our tracks.
“It is the donkey,” said Milcah.
“Donkeys don’t talk,” said Noah. We all knew that of course.
“You have made a fool of me! If I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now.” The rider answered back.
“Not only did the donkey talk, he thinks the donkey can hear!” Mahlah exclaimed. But she had no explanation.
“Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?”
