Rabbi Johnathan Sacks
Moshe, having seen his sister and brother die, knew that his own life was coming to a close, so he prayed to God to appoint the leader who would serve after him. Why does this happen now and not seven chapters earlier, either when God first told Moshe and Aharon that they would die without entering the land, or shortly after that, when we read of the death of Aharon?
The Sages sensed two clues to the story beneath the story. The first is that Moshe makes his request immediately after the episode in which the daughters of Tzelophechad seek – and are granted – their father’s share in the land. It was this that triggered Moshe’s request.
The second clue lies in God’s words to Moshe immediately before he asks for a successor: “After you have seen [the land], you too will be gathered to your people, as your brother Aharon was.” Bamidbar 27:12–13
The italicized words are seemingly unnecessary. God tells Moshe he will soon die. Why would He need to add, “as your brother Aharon was”? On this the Midrash says: ‘This teaches us that Moshe wanted to die the way Aharon did.’
The Ktav Sofer explains: Aharon had the privilege of knowing that his children would follow in his footsteps. Elazar, his son, was appointed as High Priest in his lifetime. To this day Kohanim are direct descendants of Aharon. Moshe likewise longed to see one of his sons, Gershom or Eliezer, take his place as leader of the people.
But it was not to be. In the book of Shoftim we read of a man named Micah who established an idolatrous cult in the territory of Ephraim and hired a Levite to officiate in the shrine. At the end of the story we are told the name of the idolatrous priest: Yonatan, son of Gershom, grandson of Moshe.
Some of the greatest figures in Jewish history did not succeed with all their children. Not all parents succeed with all their children all the time. How could it be otherwise? We each possess freedom. We are each, to some extent, who we chose to become. Neither genes nor upbringing can guarantee that we become the person our parents want us to be. Nor is it right that parents should over-impose their will on children who have reached the age of maturity.
Judaism places parenthood, education, and the home at the heart of its values. One of our key duties is to first and foremost ensure that our children know about – and come to love – our religious heritage. But sometimes we fail. Children may go their own way, which is not ours. If this happens to us, we should not be paralyzed with guilt. Not everyone succeeded with all their children, not even Avraham, or Moshe, or David, or Shlomo.
When our children follow our path we should be grateful. When they go beyond us, we should give special thanks to God. And when they choose another way, we must be patient, knowing that the greatest Jew of all time had the same experience with one of his grandchildren. And we must never give up hope.
Moshe’s grandson returned. In almost the last words of the last of the prophets, Malachi foresaw a time when God “will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of the children to their fathers” (Malachi 3:24). The estranged will be reunited in faith and love.
