blogs/rabbi-huberman

Wadi Musa, Jordan, July 2011
("Moses' rock," upper right) 

Miriam's Farewell 
 
It is perhaps telling of the way the Jewish narrative was assembled that Miriam dies in this week's Torah reading with barely a mention.
 
The Torah recounts how the Israelites, after forty years wandering in the desert, set up camp at a place called Kadesh.
 
Then, in one of the most understated obituaries in Jewish history, the Torah states, "Miriam died there and was buried there." (Numbers 20:1)
 
That's it.
 
Unlike Aaron's death, or Moses to come, the Torah doesn't talk about the nation "bewailing" for thirty days. There is no discussion, as was the case with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, on who would succeed.
 
Curiously, Miriam leaves this earth with barely a wave of the Torah's hand.
 
Yet, as our commentators observe, and as we reflect after more than three thousand years, perhaps no figure in the Torah had more of an impact on Jewish destiny than Miriam.
 
It was she who had the courage, in the face of Pharaoh's decree to kill Jewish male newborns, to confront her parents over their marital breakup.
 
Amram and Yochevet already had two children, Miriam and her brother Aaron, and decided to divorce because they feared creating another baby who they may be forced to kill.
 
But Miriam foresaw the birth of Moses. She told her father that he was doing Pharaoh's dirty work for him.
 
"Father, Father, your decree is harsher than that of Pharaoh. Pharaoh only decreed against the males, but you have decreed against both the males and the females." Persuaded, Amram and Yochevet remarry, and the rest is history.
 
Miriam the prophet.
 
It was Miriam who led the women in song and dance following the parting of the Sea of Reeds. She is credited with writing one of the first Jewish songs. "Sing to the Lord, for He has triumphed gloriously; horse and driver He has hurled into the sea." (Exodus 15:20). And the women accompanied her, singing and dancing.
 
Miriam the artist.
 
The Midrash, our collection of legends, also tells us that in Genesis 40, when Pharaoh's cupbearer had a dream about a three branched vine, it was referring to the three pronged leadership team of Moses, Aaron, and Miriam, who together guided the Israelites through forty years in the desert.
 
As we observe so many times in the Torah, Moses was prone to fits of anger. It was Miriam who showed him reason.
 
Miriam the advisor.
 
And, as we witness in this week's Torah reading, just after Miriam's death, Moses becomes lost, and can't locate water. Moses disobeys God's instructions, strikes a rock, and is ultimately banned from entering the land of Israel.
 
Our Sages credit to Miriam with either identifying or producing water wherever the Israelites would go.
 
But when Miriam dies, so does this well. The connection between Miriam and water is now celebrated by many families at the Passover table.
 
Miriam the sustainer.
 
There are countless other stories and legends about Miriam and her descendants. If there are crucial things the Torah does not say, our Sages, interpreters, commentators, and writers cannot say enough.
 
Indeed, the name Miriam is so powerful, so synonymous with strength, wisdom, and independence, that it was the name choice of my wife, Patte, as she completed conversion more than twenty five years ago.
 
Miriam is strength. Miriam is creativity. Miriam is prophecy. Miriam is leadership.
 
The Torah may not acknowledge Miriam's passing with a multitude of words, but her example has inspired Judaism for thousands of years.She is perhaps second only to Moses in stature.
 
And, as we have seen, without Miriam, Moses falls to pieces.
 
Our Sages tell us that Miriam sustained the Jewish people not so much by her outward actions, but with ideas and strong counsel.  
 
For in the end, it is spirit as much as strength which has sustained our people through the centuries.
 
....................................................
 
 
Exactly five years ago this week, I found myself, along with about fifteen other travelers from our congregation, on a dusty road in Jordan, just east of Eilat.
 
As an extension of our second trip to Israel, we decided to take a side trip to the ancient city of Petra, where the ancient Nabatean Empire was centered.
 
As our van rolled up and down the pink hills of the Jordanian countryside, our local guide peered into the distance, far over the head of a shepherd and his flock and casually noted, "Over there in the distance is Har Aron, the mountain where Aaron is buried."
 
I was intrigued. It happened that this was the same week that we read in the Torah about Aaron and Miriam's passing.
 
With (I admit) some casual arrogance, I said, "According to the Torah, then, the rock that Moses hit must be nearby."
 
To my shock, our Muslim guide coolly turned to me and, with a similar attitude, replied, "Yes, the rock of Moses is just down the road. If you like we can go there later."
 
For the next few hours, I bubbled with anticipation. As our group walked, climbed and stumbled through the rock formations of Petra, and we paused for lunch at a Jordanian restaurant, I kept asking myself:
 
"It is possible that the burial sites of Aaron, Miriam, and the rock of Moses - are actually here together as the Torah recounts?"
 
Later that afternoon, our bus driver wound his way through the streets of the small Jordanian city of Wadi Musa. There were small shops, cafés and mosques.   Local men played backgammon on the sidewalks.
 
Eventually the driver pulled up and stopped in front of a small building, and, after some negotiations with the local caretaker, we were beckoned inside into a small but glistening room.
 
To my awe and amazement, there were local Arabs, jerry cans in hand, filling their vessels with waters which flowed from a block of stone, known locally as Moses' rock.
 
It was living Torah.
 
Our guide shared with me that the existence of this rock was no great secret. For thousands of years, generation to generation, locals have come to fill their vessels from this sacred source.
 
In the place where Moses struck the rock. Near the place where Aaron, presumably where Miriam was buried.
 
Just as the Torah said.
 
Friends, we often have trouble looking at the Torah, believing that everything it recounts is accurate to the comma or period. I struggle with this myself.
 
I struggle with its perfunctory reference to women. I struggle with the archaic over-simplistic connection between disease and behavior. It struggle with themes of reward, punishment, and revenge.
 
And in this week's Torah portion, Chukkat, I struggle with its brief, almost dismissive account of Miriam's death.
 
Yet, as we stood in Wadi Musa on that hot July day, cooling our feet in those fresh and spiritually cleansing waters, I felt a convergence of past and present.
 
The Torah was alive. Its spirit seemed truer than ever.
 
Through the hearts and actions of the local Arabs, the breath of Moses, Aaron, and Miriam remained just as alive and relevant as they did three thousand years ago.
 
Moses the leader. Aaron the priest. Miriam the heart.
 
These days, as we incline towards cynicism and rationalism, we are drawn to dismiss parts of our Torah as outdated; a remnant of ancient irrelevant culture.
 
But on that day as I observed local Arabs filling their cans from the rock, I thought about Moses, Aaron and Miriam, the three ancient branches of Jewish leadership.
 
And I thought about the Torah, and how its waters have sustained us for three thousand years.
 
And somehow, for a few moments, Torah, history and the waters of life converged.
 
I remember that day in Jordan each year as we read this Torah portion as I recall the day I observed Moses' rock.
 
And I feel refreshed, revitalized, and restored.
 
I recall Moses' rock, and Miriam's living waters.
 
And once again, I am renewed.
 
Shabbat shalom, v'kol tuv (with all goodness)
 
Rabbi Irwin Huberman