We see in our Parsha the death of Miriam. I thought of how hard this must have been for Moshe and for the people. She was with Moshe, from watching him in that basket and securing a spot with Pharoah’s daughter. She led the people out of Mitzrayim and had been by Moshe’s side all the while.
When the people become fearful for lack of water, Moshe goes to HaShem and is told to speak to the stone, and it would produce water. Instead, Moshe angrily addresses the people and strikes the stone. The water flows, but Moshe is told to prepare for Aaron’s death and that he would not cross into the promised land.
Later Rashi declares striking the rock diminished the miracle, ensuring they would die before entering the Holy Land. Rambam faults his taking credit rather than giving glory to HaShem. Ibn Ezra offers he should have had the confidence to perform the miracle without asking HaShem. Maimonides thinks it is taking credit that is the reason. I find myself in agreement with Rabbi Jonathan Sacks of blessed memory. The anger came from losing someone so close to him. Emotions run amok in the early stages of grief. Perhaps in reality, it was time for new leadership and after all Moshe was approaching 120 years of age.
Aaron climbs Mt Hor, removes his priestly garments and places them on Eleazar. Aaron dies, and he is mourned for 30 days. One of two places in Torah where we see the origins of shloshim.
The people become restive again complaining of the lack of bread and water. HaShem replies with an onslaught of poisonous snakes, many bitten and many deaths. The people repent, and HaShem has Moshe make a Seraph (snake) figure similar to the winged cobra from Egypt and mount it on a standard. Any who looked at it were cured. Why a snake? A reminder of Adam and Eve where the serpent caused them to transgress using clever words? Why did it heal? According to Mishnah it directed eyes upward as when Moshe raised his arms in the battle against Amalek. Other theories as well. What we do know from archaeology is other people in the area used snake imagery for healing. It was common in this part of the world until Hezekiah banned it much later.
This parsha is all about transitions. Of death and dying, sickness and health. In the case of the Red Heifer, the transition from tamei (impure) to tahor (pure) But also a case study in an early example of dealing with the loss of another. Yes, it was about ritual purity, but also about moving away from death towards life.
It seems to me that a life journey is filled with such transitions. In 75 years, I’ve seen my share. In my life, I’ve seen death and dying up close. As early as age 6, my grandpa on my mom’s side died. He lived in rural Arkansas, his body laid out on the kitchen table, not embalmed and with coins to keep his eyes shut. That night we grandkids slept on pallets in the joined living room, until they picked him up and buried him in our family cemetery following a short service. As my other grandpa was dying from brain cancer, each of us went in to see him, one at a time, for him to pass on his final words. Then at age 10, we each sat our time with the body after he passed until he was buried. I think we learned early that every lifetime involves encounters with death, and of the value of those final hours for both the dying and those who are close.
Others of course. Numerous aunts and uncles. I arranged my dad’s funeral at the ripe age of 20. Many during the worst of the HIV years, and I was with my mom as she passed. I learned some lessons in all of this. First, in those final hours, life is never as intense as when one is dying. I learned how to grieve, to feel what must be felt.
I guess the most intense for me was in August of 1997. My beloved husband Skip became ill with viral encephalitis. I sat with him as he lay in coma, then on that final day when he could not speak, but his eyes were open, and he followed me as I moved about the room. I held him that day shared my love for him, gave him permission to go and then he passed away. In the way of so many lgbtq folks, after sitting with him for ten additional minutes thanks to the kind nurse there, I walked out, and the family came in. I went to the local coffeeshop in our gayborhood, the part time drag queen waiter came and asked me about Skip. He held me as I sobbed and then put a coin in the juke box and played Donna Summers “I Will Survive.” Barely two weeks later, I’m prepared to walk street patrol in our Houston gayborhood. My friend and I walk into the Q Patrol offices, when she collapsed to the floor, I hold her as another applies CPR. She dies in my arms. Two precious lives, back-to-back, crossing over as I held them.
I was a wreck. In my grief, people slipped in and out of my life, often with me barely noticing. It was community who held me up until I was strong enough to do it on my own. I’ understand so well the value of our own caring community, people who sit shiva, provide meals in those most vulnerable of times. We hold the memory of those lost through shloshim, and with Yahrzeits. In my case back then, my employer, the state of Texas, did not permit time off. I had transitioned, but we could not marry. My boss after a week, told me it was time to get over it. But my queer community was there for me, and with time I reached the point where I could move on.
Here I focused on death and dying, but many other transitions in life await us. Like now in our own Shir Tikvahcommunity. But in community we find our strength, and a way to find ourselvesforward. Together in caring community we sit shiva and remember Yahrzeits, do marriages and send cards and visit the sick. We hold each other aloft during the hard times.
Life goes on and over time gets better. After losing Skip and a time of mourning, I met Robin. We’ve been together 23 years now. Retirement opened new avenues in my own life journey. Moving here and finding Shir Tikvah was such a gift! Honestly, when I was younger, I didn’t believe I would live to this age. But every day I thank HaShem for every single moment of this precious life.
I can imagine in my heart, Miriam, Aaron, and eventually Moshe, how they must have looked back upon full lives before surrendering to that passage we all will face someday.
I’ve spoken a lot about death and dying in much the same way this Parsha has. But I believe we are in confronting such passages, we are more able to appreciate every moment we have in this precious life and the role of community in that journey. From grief to life, ever changing and ever growing. Moshe, soon to be sitting upon the mountaintop reflecting on HaShem and his role in helping it happen. Here’s something I wrote that seems pertinent:
On Loss and Community:
Loneliness descends like a dark shroud;
Upon the heart which continues to
beat
Even as everything else seems to come
Crashing at our feet.
Inside the emptiness grows, interrupted
Only by the periodic
numbing pain
Beyond description and people point where
We must go and we
go, step by aching step.
Alone nothing seems to work and
Nothing seems to
help and
Nothing is all we seek in this
Oppressed depressed
suppressed
Spirit where light cannot shine
And darkness prevails.
Our
illusion of living is gone
Our dreams failed.
Even as we
flounder,
Gentle webs surround us
Holding us lovingly, ever softly
Gently without our knowing,
It is in that cocoon where community and
friends
Whose threads around us have sewn
Those who love and care never
having left
Even if we could not feel them there... Allowed us to slowly
once again grow strong.
Weeks and months pass then
We rejoin that
community where
Our threads of gentle strength will
Support another,
weaving webs and offering prayer.
Such are the resurrections of our
lives
Following the depths of our despair
Alone the journey is too
difficult,
Our blessing is the journey we share.
Shabbat Shalom!
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