Pinchas
Numbers 25:10-30:1
I Kings 18:46-19:21
Inheritance has always been a sensitive topic. Family ties frequently fray at the edges, as frustrations and expectations run headlong into the instability of a time of transition. As we approach the end of the Torah’s narratives, the issue of transition and inheritance rises to the forefront.
We read of Tzelofchod’s daughters, who approach Moses after their father’s death to ask if the law will have them inherit his estate. Moses checks with HaShem, and answers that indeed they will. Reminded that he too will not be allowed to enter the land of Israel, Moses uses the opportunity to raise the subject of succession. If he will not be the leader, will HaShem clearly appoint another to lead the people safely into Israel? HaShem responds that his student Joshua will become the next leader and that Moses will “share some of his spiritual splendor” with his pupil (Num. 27:20).
This last suggestion has the potential to be deeply unsettling at a sensitive moment. Imagine for a moment that you are a member of the Jewish people, stuck in slavery. HaShem sends Moses to take you out of Egypt with incredible miracles that continue as you travel the desert with manna to eat, water to drink and protected by clouds of Divine glory. A tough road lies ahead as you face war against seven nations in the Promised Land.
Without Moses at the helm, you are surely quite anxious. But what can you do? There is no search committee, just a Divine directive that Joshua will lead. At the very least you would like to know that your new leader has been carefully vetted, directed and inspired by Moses. Then you find out that Moses is to give “of his spiritual splendor” to your new leader, meaning that he will give some but not all of it. This is very disconcerting. We need all the help that we can get now! Why set up a leader who will not match Moses?
The Talmud (Bava Batra 75B), sensitive to the difference in the spiritual abilities of Moses and Joshua reflected in this verse, suggests that the radiance of “Moses’ face was like the sun and Joshua’s was like the moon.” Like the moon that reflects the sun’s light but lacks its intensity, Joshua is lit up by Moses but is no substitute.
Examining the flow of the dialogue, the Midrash suggests that Moses saw an opportunity for a request. Just as Tzelofchod’s daughters will inherit their father, could Moses’ own son inherit his position of spiritual leadership? When that request is denied in favor of his student Joshua, Moses then hopes to offer Joshua the complete package of his spiritual gifts, only to be denied again. Why?
Rashi observes that the name used to refer to HaShem in this passage is “Elokei HaRuchot,” (the God of Spirits), a name that connotes HaShem’s ability to see the individual potential and distinct abilities of each and every human being. This name is most appropriate in the selection of a new leader, as each candidate is unique.
This, then, may be HaShem’s message to Moses: He can influence and teach the next leader, but that person cannot be an extension of him. The new leader must lead in the way that they best can, of their own personal abilities. Moses was an impossibly difficult act to follow, and as the name “Elokei HaRuchot” indicates, no two people could ever be the same. Moses’ sons, like it or not, could never be him and neither could Joshua.
Thus, in a message to all future generations, Moses’s sons are passed over for leadership and his student is offered “of his splendor.” It is a point easily lost, and to this day we often fall into the trap of expecting others to be just like their parents.
But just as HaShem turned down Moses, the point is clear: It is unfair to look to a child to be their parent all over again. We may exceed them or we may only be the moon reflecting their brilliance, but the reality of our lives is that while genetic traits and personal lessons may be passed on, our personas are unique.
Rabbi Judah Dardik is the spiritual leader at Oakland’s Beth Jacob. He can be reached at [email protected] .