In Redeeming Relevance in the Book of Exodus, we mentioned that Moshe’s personality is larger than life.169p. 37. As a rule, we come to understand the figures of the Bible by comparing and contrasting them with one another, and even with ourselves. But, to whom can Moshe be compared? In his death as well as in his life he defies comparison.
It is not surprising that the Torah’s handling of Moshe’s death is unique, bolstering our impression that he’s in a league of his own. All other outstanding figures receive only summary statements from the Biblical narrative when they die. By contrast, Moshe is singled out with the type of praise that could best be described as a eulogy. Surely we are meant to pause and reflect on this great individual, all the more so as it comes right at the end of the Torah. We might be tempted to find a parallel in the death of Ya’akov, which also comes at a conceptual and literary point of transition, near the end of the book of Bereshit. Yet not only is there no eulogy for Ya’akov, the Torah seems to go out of its way to make sure that his death is not at the very end of Bereshit. Instead, it is followed by stories of his sons’ continued lives in Egypt, presumably showing that life does not end with the death of this great and final patriarch.
The praise given to Moshe is only one side of the unusual treatment he receives. The Torah also presents less complementary details – for example, that his death comes as a result of his sin – which seem clearly aimed at curbing our enthusiasm. It is as if the Torah’s presentation of Moshe’s death represents a balancing act, letting us know how great he was without allowing us get carried away and lose our sense of perspective. Why was that needed only with Moshe?
There is a great deal at stake with Moshe’s death. The Torah’s authority and reliability largely revolve around the status of his prophecy.170See Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Yesodei haTorah 8. The ambivalence felt in the treatment of his death is more than just a question of editorial balance, then. On the one hand, given the weight Jewish tradition places on the authority of Moshe’s prophecy, there is an important need to discourage challenges to it. In order to do so, the Torah, at this very important point in Moshe’s story, must make his special understanding of God’s will quite clear. To accomplish this, his obvious mortality must be tempered by an almost superhuman description of who he actually was. On the other hand, making too strong a statement about Moshe’s greatness could lead to worshiping him instead of God.
Thus the Torah goes back and forth, first pointing out Moshe’s sin and reminding us that he is duly chastised – just like any other mortal not meeting the expectations of God; and then telling us of his superlative abilities and accomplishments. The back and forth that will characterize this section is the key to the paradox that Moshe represents, both in the Torah and in Jewish tradition more broadly: He has to be eminently human and relatable to all the rest of us, yet so great as to defy comparison.
Brothers in Life and in Death
If we have already seen the difficulties in comparing Moshe’s and Ya’akov’s deaths, we can look elsewhere for parallels to Moshe’s death. Perhaps it should be expected that Moshe’s manner of leaving the world would be most similar to the way Aharon, his brother, left it. To begin with, both brothers die in exile as a result of their failures in the desert.171Though not immediately relevant, it is interesting in this context to note the parallels between Moshe and Aharon’s deaths on the one hand, and Miriam’s death on the other. The most obvious parallel is her burial outside the Land of Israel. But here we are somewhat perplexed, as there is no indication of her being involved in a sin that merits what is repeatedly described as a punishment for Moshe and Aharon. See the conclusions at the end of this section, which could apply not only to Aharon but to Miriam as well. As Moshe’s death approaches, the Torah emphasizes that he will not be allowed to go over the Jordan, first spelling out his failure to sanctify God when bringing forth water from the boulder (Devarim 32:51) and later alluding to it (Devarim 34:4). Such a description clearly echoes Aharon’s demise, which is also attributed to his sin at Mei Merivah (Bemidbar 20:24). In Aharon’s case, however, the Torah sees no need to summarize his life, instead merely describing his death and the children of Israel’s mourning for him.
Besides mention of their common sin, the two brothers’ deaths are also characterized by their unusual mountaintop locations. In Moshe’s case, it may partly be in order for him to see the Land of Israel before he dies. Moreover, if he could not be buried in the land that he loved, perhaps a mountaintop overlooking it would be the next best thing. Yet the fact that Aharon also dies on a mountaintop – presumably nowhere near the Land of Israel – leads us to believe that being buried on a mountain has other significance as well.
In the Bible as in common parlance, height is often associated with God.172See, for example, Bereshit 14:20, 22 and Tehillim 138:6, where God is described as being high or lofty. See also Sukkah 4b, which, based on Shemot 25:22, discusses how God does not descend to the ground but stays above it. Thus, it is no coincidence that the two most important locations of revelation, Mount Sinai and Mount Moriah (the site of the Temple in Jerusalem) are mountaintops. Indeed, most people are familiar with the well-known Midrash (Bemidbar Rabba 13:3) concerning which mountain was the most fit to host the giving of the Torah. That the Midrash does not include a valley or plateau to vie for the honor reflects the association of topographical elevation with holiness.
Hence the simplest explanation for the brothers’ burials on mountaintops is to stress their spiritual elevation. Both of them dedicated their lives to impressing the will of God on the Jewish people – and on some level, on mankind as a whole. Moshe was the one to receive direct prophecy from God, and God’s investiture of Aharon as his brother’s mouthpiece became a permanent feature of the Torah’s transmission in the desert (Shemot 4:14–1).
Granted, Aharon is not generally viewed as holier than other Biblical heroes who were not buried on mountains. Yet, since his being buried outside the Land of Israel may lead one to the opposite conclusion – that he was less holy – there was a need to remind us of his holiness. God, therefore, had him buried on a “high” place.
Aharon’s unique burial place can also be explained from a different perspective. In the same way that his sin can be attributed merely to association with his brother,173See Sifrei Devarim on Devarim 33:8, which alludes to this and which is cited with even more emphasis by Rashi on the same verse. See also Haamek Davar on Bemidbar 20:24, 27, who endeavors to identify Aharon’s sin, ultimately concluding that it was mostly associated with the actions of his younger brother. so too might be his greatness. The two brothers (and perhaps their sister as well174See note 171.) are a team, such that many of the honors bestowed on Moshe – as well as his punishment – are likewise bestowed upon the rest of the group.
The identification of the two brothers as a team that earns the same rewards is also played out in their unique, thirty-day mourning period.175While the Torah mentions seventy days of crying and mourning at the death of Ya’akov, this is attributed to all of Egypt and not specifically to his family, whereas we only read about his family mourning for seven days after his burial. See Bereshit 50:1–11. This period of mourning is quite familiar to observant Jews, although the Bible mentions it only with regard to Moshe and Aharon. More specifically, the Torah’s unique reference to the mourning period, and its description with regard to both Moshe and Aharon as a time for crying, shows the intimate bond between the generation of the desert and their two leaders.
The people cried for this length of time because Moshe and Aharon were as much this generation’s parents as they were its leaders. But they were not only bound to the desert generation, they were also bound to their task. Given that they were barred entry into the land, it would be all too easy to forget their huge accomplishment of taking a large, nomadic clan and turning it into a nation that would serve as God’s vanguard on earth. Although they were not allowed to see their mission all the way through, the Torah wants us to be aware of the great honor due them for their efforts.
Separated in Life and in Death
Beyond the parallels between the two brothers’ deaths and their rewards (and punishments), in the case of Moshe, the uniqueness of his death goes far beyond Aharon’s. As unusual as Aharon’s death was, it was not nearly as unusual as the death of Moshe. The Torah needs to emphasize Moshe’s lofty status, and consequently offers us a great deal of information not otherwise found in a Biblical death narrative. Most important among these details is what we described above as a eulogy. But not only is the Torah’s extolling Moshe at his death unusual, how it does so is unique as well.
The superlative quality of Moshe’s praise here is well worth our notice. As if it were not clear enough, the Torah uses the word kol (“all”) six times in the last two verses of Moshe’s eulogy (which are also the last two verses of the Torah). Furthermore, to completely crystallize its point, the Torah emphatically states that “there never again arose a prophet . . . like Moshe” (Devarim 34:10). This description would be further refined in Jewish theology through the years,176See Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Yesodei haTorah 7:6. but the Torah is the first to emphasize that Moshe is in a category uniquely his own.
Of almost equal importance as the unique praise given Moshe’s lifework is the clause informing us that all his feats were done “in the eyes of all of Israel.” Here the Torah is telling us that the critical acknowledgment of Moshe’s stature is significantly enhanced by the public knowledge of it. The Torah uses this as its concluding statement, establishing for all time that what made Moshe unique was known to the entire Jewish people and was not just an esoteric secret revealed only to a privileged few.
Another unique feature of Moshe’s death is his anonymous burial place. Abarbanel takes this one step further and suggests that there was actually no burial altogether. Rather, he posits, Moshe’s body simply returned to its basic elements, without having to first decompose. But even without going that far, an anonymous burial place that would never be visited is unusual enough. Moreover, the Torah makes a point of mentioning that the burial place was not known later either (Devarim 34:6).
Many claim that the anonymity of this grave was intended to prevent it from becoming an object of worship.177See, for example, Rabbi S.R. Hirsch and Rabbi Y.S. Reggio, ibid. Given the subsequent treatment of other gravesites at different points in history, this was no negligible danger. But as with most things, there are different ways to accomplish the same goal. God could have simply put Moshe’s grave in a place that could not be reached, such as in the depths of the sea. Alternatively, He could have had Moshe simply rise into the sky like the prophet Eliyahu – though such a suggestion is problematic in its own right, as we will soon discuss. Hence it appears that there was something particularly fitting about concealing Moshe’s tomb.
The key to Moshe’s burial lies in the manner in which he lived his life. In Moshe’s case – although not only in his case – being unique also meant being lonely. This was central to his singular role as the intermediary between God and the Jewish people.178Redeeming Relevance in Exodus, Chapter Three. And it makes sense that what was imperative in life would also be necessary in death.
Moshe had a family, yet his connection to his wife and children was more a formality than anything else. This is brought indelibly home by his solitary final scene. His role required him to live alone and to die alone.179See Ha’amek Davar on Devarim 34:6.
We read that he died “by the mouth of God” and that “he/He buried him.” While some claim that Moshe buried himself,180This position is first advanced in Sotah 14a and cited by Rashi on Devarim 34:6. the more obvious reading of this is that God buried him.181Rashi brings this position as well, ascribing it to Rabbi Yishmael. In either case, it is clear that Moshe died alone with God, in marked distinction to Aharon, who dies in the presence of his brother and his oldest living son and successor, Elazar. It is also in contrast to almost everyone else mentioned in Tanach.182Chanoch (Bereshit 5:24) and Eliyahu (II Melachim 2:11), whom we will discuss below, might be in this category of dying alone with God. In any event, no one besides Moshe alone is buried by God.
It is not enough for Moshe to die by himself; his separation from family and nation must be total, even after his death. This too takes us back to Redeeming Relevance in Exodus,183Redeeming Relevance in Exodus, op. cit. where we suggest that since the Torah’s message was partially directed to all the nations of the world, there was a need for its transmitter to transcend his origins and natural allegiance to the Jewish people. The universal facet of Moshe’s identity was so central that it would need to be perpetuated. Thus, one of the major reasons his burial plot is forever hidden from the eyes of his people is because separation from them needed to be permanently enshrined. While it would be painful for the Jewish nation to part from Moshe forever, Jews throughout the generations would need to know that he was not entirely of their nation.
Moshe and Eliyahu
Besides Aharon, there is another Biblical hero whose death is comparable to that of Moshe: the prophet Eliyahu, who flies to Heaven in a fiery chariot. Both he and Moshe go upward, which as mentioned above signifies holiness. Both also, for all intents and purposes, disappear, Eliyahu leaving the earth and Moshe in the earth but inaccessible.
It makes sense that these two prophets’ deaths resemble each other, as there are many other parallels between Moshe’s and Eliyahu’s respective careers. More than anything else, they were both of almost mythical stature, not quite of this world.184See the long list of parallels in Pesikta Rabbati 4 and its treatment in “Eliyahu uMoshe,” in R. Yigal Ariel, Mishpat Melucha (Hispin: Midreshet haGolan, 1994), pp. 453–456. The commonalities in their deaths are ultimately a reflection of what they shared in their lives.
One commentator asks why Moshe doesn’t fly into the sky as well. After all, he says, isn’t it even more fitting for Moshe to merit such a grand finale, which would show his favor with God once and for all?185I have not been able to locate the source of this opinion. While this might sound like a strong question, it neglects to take into consideration the other side of the Torah’s balancing act. It is indeed important to show Moshe’s elevated status, but not at the expense of causing people to turn him into a god. For someone of Moshe’s unique stature – even more than for Eliyahu – not to have died like a mortal would likely have caused too many Israelites to elevate him to divine status.
Moshe the Mortal
The other side of the Torah’s balancing act with Moshe requires our attention as well. We have already mentioned the importance of recounting Moshe’s sin with the boulder at this point. Reminding us that Moshe sinned is a powerful way to reemphasize that Moshe is neither God nor an angel, neither of whom sin. That is clear enough. But merely recounting his sin is not sufficient in order to finally put the matter of his humanity to rest. Moshe needs to die the type of death common to all men, as far removed as possible from an otherworldly death such as, for instance, soaring into the skies in a fiery chariot.
Moshe’s very human death is still not enough to fully emphasize his humanity, and his unique greatness must be put into context. For example, he is the first person ever to be called “a man of God” (Devarim 33:1), and is later given a fairly rare and in this case final accolade as a servant (or slave) of God (Devarim 34:5).186See Sifrei ad loc.; Nechama Leibowitz, Studies in Devarim (Jerusalem: World Zionist Organization, 1980), pp. 370–371. Another honor is meriting a death by the word (literally, by the mouth) of God (Devarim 34:5). All of these praises are defined in terms of Moshe’s close relationship with God, with emphasis on his subservient position in the face of the Divine.
Only God’s dictates what Moshe will do, even when it comes time for him to die. Indeed, before his death scene, Moshe is given what appears to be a command to die (Devarim 32:50). This puzzles some commentators. For short of committing suicide, which does not appear to be the intention, how does one decide to die? In view of our analysis, the command is given more to make a point to the reader than anything else: No matter how great Moshe is, he remains “like clay in the hands of the Potter.”
Another curious feature that serves to make a similar point is when “the children of Israel cried for Moshe . . . thirty days, and [then] the days of the crying of mourning for Moshe ceased” (Devarim 34:8). Compare this to the mourning for Aharon: “And the entire house of Israel cried for Aharon thirty days” (Bemidbar 20:29). This is more natural, both conceptually and grammatically, since giving a specific time frame also informs us when the time period ends. To tell us that the days of mourning for Moshe stopped when they ended is superfluous.
What the Torah is doing here is stressing that life continued after Moshe died.187Earlier, I suggested that the Torah shows us that life goes on after the death of Ya’akov by not having the book of Bereshit end with his death. While I am now arguing that the Torah wants to make the same point about Moshe’s death, we must keep in mind the balancing act I have stressed. In the case of Moshe, the Torah had to end with Moshe’s eulogy specifically in order to maintain the balance between Moshe’s greatness and the fact that life would continue without him. The Israelites were very sad, but they survived and continued with their lives once the mourning period ended. The Torah reinforces this notion further by mentioning Moshe’s successor, Yehoshua, right before it begins eulogizing Moshe. Here too, the Torah wants to make sure we understand that life does not end with Moshe. Irreplaceable yes, but with no other choice, he is replaced nevertheless.
* * *
Moshe sets the limits on human achievement, and so the Torah confirms that there would be none like him. By looking at Moshe we see what is possible for a man to accomplish, and at the same time we see that the proverbial sky really is the limit. Being human creates boundaries, even for someone like Moshe, and he can do no more than follow the normal human life cycle: marry, have children, grow old and, eventually, die. But the temporal limits that death places in front of Moshe, and therefore in front of us as well, are not the only limits he faces. Like other humans, Moshe encounters spatial limits as well. He has a body and so can be in only one place at a time. His body being outside the Land of Israel axiomatically means that he would not be in the Land of Israel, in a way that would be meaningless when speaking about God. For when God was with Moshe at his burial site, He was also in the Holy Land and everywhere else as well. Not so Moshe – or any of us, for that matter.
Our limits are precisely what make us human. Both in time and in space, we can only stretch as far as our bodies will take us, and no more. For most of us this is all too obvious, and we make no claims to immortality. Yet for others, some of whom are able to accomplish great things, internalizing this is the challenge. The Torah’s insistence on emphasizing Moshe’s mortality is a response to these people and their admirers.
Moshe lived a life that was meant to get this very point across. His signature personality trait is identified in another section of the Torah as “the man Moshe was more humble than any man” (Bemidbar 12:3) It is specifically because he was also superior to any man that this takes on such great significance. How should we understand this?
Most of us rarely examine our perspective on time and space – we think ten years is a long time and ten minutes is a short time. Likewise, we think of a mouse as a small animal and an elephant as a large one. That is all fine and well. The problem, however, is that we take this to be a universally true perspective. Yet if we were to think more carefully, we would realize that from an ant’s perspective a mouse is really quite large and from a whale’s perspective an elephant is not so impressive. Understanding that the human perspective is relative allows us greater insight into Moshe’s success as a prophet. As Moshe grew to have a greater understanding of God, he most likely started looking at the world from God’s perspective. And from that point of view, a man is very small indeed.
It is generally assumed that Moshe knew he was the greatest man to ever live. What enabled him to know this and still be extremely modest was his perspective. Compared to other humans, a great person might think very highly of himself. If, however, he sees himself from the perspective of God, he will feel quite humbled. To put if differently, even if you are the greatest ant in the world, how great can an ant be? Man’s being far superior to an ant on many different levels notwithstanding, it would be difficult to claim that the difference between an ant and a man is greater than the difference between man and God.
It now makes sense that the greatest man was also the most humble. True humility comes from an elevated and ultimately truer perspective. As we end the Torah’s last book, and with it the Torah, we can see both the greatness and the smallness of man in one complex bundle. Even more significant, however, is the knowledge that more than anything else, realizing our own smallness is what can make us truly great.