The Prophet Who Slept With Animals Wanted to Die a Righteous Man — And He’s Not Alone
Bilaam lived like a beast but prayed for a holy death. Decades later, Israel’s top communist atheist asked for Kaddish on his deathbed. What does this tell us about the human soul at the edge of life?
“I wish to die a righteous death.” (Numbers 23:10)
These words, uttered by the infamous non-Jewish prophet Bilaam, seem wildly out of character. This is a man who, according to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 95a), not only pursued immoral behavior but descended into depravity—going so far as to engage in bestiality. And yet, in a moment of poetic prophecy, he declared his yearning for a righteous death. How do we make sense of this contradiction?
To understand Bilaam’s wish, we must first ask: what is a “righteous death”?
Rabbi Mordechai Gifter, a prominent 20th-century American Rosh Yeshiva (head of a Jewish seminary), once shared a powerful story from his own experience. During a flight, one of the engines caught fire, sending a wave of panic through the passengers. The flight attendants opened the alcohol bar, and many began drinking recklessly, assuming the worst. Amid the chaos, two young Orthodox Jewish women from the Beis Yaakov school system (a global network of religious girls’ schools) approached Rabbi Gifter. They didn’t ask for a drink. They asked him: “How can we use our final moments in a meaningful way?”
Rabbi Gifter later turned this story into a speech at his yeshiva. “Look at the difference,” he said. “When death stares them in the face, the non-Jews drink—and Jews search for meaning.” That, he thundered, is the definition of a righteous death: the desire to meet the end with awareness, purpose, and spiritual clarity.
So where does that leave Bilaam?
Even the most corrupt person is not entirely blind to truth. Often, wicked individuals live under layers of denial, rationalization, and self-deception. But when death becomes real—when it’s no longer theoretical—the illusions begin to crack. Suddenly, the soul confronts reality. It yearns for dignity. It cries out for redemption. As the saying goes, “There are no atheists in foxholes.”
This phenomenon isn’t limited to ancient characters like Bilaam. Consider the case of Moshe Sneh, a founding member of the Israeli Communist Party. A staunch atheist, Sneh made it his mission to uproot religious influence from Israeli society. But as he approached the end of his life, terminally ill, something shifted. After his death, his family discovered his will. It included an unexpected request: he wanted a traditional Jewish funeral, and he asked that his son recite Kaddish (a sacred prayer for the dead in Jewish tradition) in his honor.
Sneh, like Bilaam, wanted to die a righteous death.
Death is the great equalizer—not just physically, but spiritually. It exposes the soul’s truest desires. And perhaps the deepest human desire, buried beneath ego, ideology, and sin, is to leave this world not in shame, but in peace. Not as a beast, but as a soul.