I’m not sure he was quite ready to let go; to give up his role as leader.
On the one hand it is, objectively, an unspeakably difficult job; one filled with stress and aggravation beyond what most of us could even imagine.
Half of the time, half of the people you serve are angry at you. Some of the time, they all are.
And then there are those whom you don’t serve, the ones you don’t lead — your enemies, haters, those who seek your literal ruin: the destruction of both you and your nation.
On the other hand, despite the headaches and heartaches, what a privilege, what an absolute privilege it is to lead.
The task of leading clearly energized him, brought him purpose and meaning. Maybe it even helped him with the stutter he’d had since childhood. However, it also aged him and, bit by bit, people noticed. He was occasionally slower to respond – slower to react. At times he seemed a little less sure of himself.
But who would tell him that perhaps for the good of the people he served, it was time to let go? Who could sensitively and effectively deliver such a message?
Initiating and having that conversation must have been a difficult task.
However, that talk was a necessary one to have; initiating it was the right thing to do for both him and the people. It was also just as necessary that such a conversation be left to someone close to that leader.
The leader I’m talking about of course is Moses.
We learn all about it in this week’s parasha. God comes to Moses and tells him that he will not be the one who will lead the Israelites into the land of Israel. That task will be for someone else. Moses had done his job well and the time had come to move on.
Consider how hard it must have been for Moses to hear this news and then, finally, to accept it.
The rabbis of the midrash imagine Moses arguing his case again and again, pleading to be given more time; to be given the gift of being the one to lead the people into the land which he’d himself told the Israelites flowed with milk and honey. He practically exhausted God in the process. But finally, acceptance came. For his own good, as well as the good of the people, and to set an example for the generations to come, Moses would let go – he would pass the torch to the next leader.
Ultimately, Moses came up with the transition plan himself:
“Moses spoke to the Eternal, saying, ‘Let God, Source of the breath of all flesh, appoint someone over the community who shall go out before them and come in before them, and who shall take them out and bring them in, so that God’s community may not be like sheep that have no shepherd.’” (Numbers 27:15-17)
The flock must have its shepherd, even if a different one needs to be appointed to the role.
It takes a little courage. It takes a little humility. It takes a little faith as well – faith that the people will be alright without you; that those who depend upon you will somehow find their way forward, will somehow reach their destination with a different leader at the helm.
It is not a little thing to do this.
It is a big thing. When you have a job like Moses did – leading a whole community, a whole people – it’s a very big thing to do indeed.
It’s a big thing to let go. It’s a hard thing to get right–the timing, the communication of it. It’s never easy.
Ultimately, however, choosing to step aside, getting to decide instead of having such a thing decided for you, that’s a privilege – a blessing even.
May each of us have that privilege. May we experience that blessing. May we know the good fortune of having a supportive friend and community that can gently guide us on this journey.
May we, at just the right moment,or close enough perhaps, come to understand when the time has come to let go – for ourselves and for those we serve as well.
And then may we be blessed to know the thanks of the grateful community we have served.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Yoshi