The entire congregation of the children of Israel arrived at the desert of Zin in the first month, and the people settled in Kadesh. Miriam died there and was buried there …The whole congregation saw that Aaron had expired, and the entire house of Israel wept for Aaron for thirty days (Bamidbar 20:1,29)

It was the close of a generation. We read of the passing of Miriam and Aharon, the sister and brother of Moshe Rabbeinu, and, in many respects, the partner-leaders of the Jewish nation. In addition to this necessary piece of historical information, Rashi explains that the passing of Miriam contains an important message.

Why is the passage relating Miriam’s death juxtaposed with the passage of the Red Cow? To teach you that just as sacrifices bring atonement, so the death of the righteous secure atonement (Bamidbar 20:1).

In the preceding section, the Torah discusses the laws of the Parah Adumah (Red Heifer). This was a unique sacrificial procedure to purify one who had contracted ritual impurity through contact with a corpse. From Rashi’s perspective, Biblical juxtapositions are never random, and as such, the Torah is linking the purification achieved from the ashes of the Red Heifer to the purification received through the death of Miriam.

Rav Kalonymos Kalmish Shapira, the Rebbe of Piacezna, in his sefer Aish Kodesh asks a simple question. The Torah is teaching us that the death of a great person atones for the generation in the same way in which korbanos (sacrifices) atone for the owner. Why does the Torah choose to teach us this law through Parah Adumah? Why not teach us this law from other offerings? The book of Vayikra is filled with sacrificial law; why not bring out this idea in the third book of the Torah? Why is this derived specifically from Parah Adumah?

The Rebbe provides an incredible insight. In discussing the symbolism of the Red Cow, Rashi comments:
a red cow: This can be compared to the son of a maidservant who soiled the king’s palace. They said, “Let his mother come and clean up the mess.” Similarly, let the cow come and atone for the calf (Bamidbar 19:22).

The Parah Adumah is a form of atonement for the Golden Calf. It is the mother coming and cleaning up the mess made by her child. The Red Heifer is taking responsibility for its young Golden Calf. This was Miriam. Miriam possessed a love for all “her children” even though they were not her own biological family. Miriam’s heart was filled with compassion, empathy, care, and concern for every member of the Jewish nation. This is the nature of the juxtaposition. The same way the Red Cow comes to atone for the sin of its young calf, Miriam spent her years toiling, helping, and building her people. This is the deeper meaning of the concept, “the death of the righteous atones.” When Miriam passed away, people felt the void; there was less love and devotion. They took it upon themselves to fill that void, and in this way, her death provided atonement in that it caused others to step in and try to fill the void.

There are many important lessons to be learned. It is easy to love your family, your friends, and your community with whom you identify, but that is not greatness. Greatness is found in those who have an open heart for the entire Jewish nation, not just the ones who are like you. Greatness is found in those who possess the wellsprings of compassion and empathy. Greatness is found in those who think beyond themselves. Greatness is found in those who choose to be like Miriam.

There are times when we think about the leaders of yesteryear. We reflect on their greatness and selflessness and feel sad that our world no longer has their light. Where there is a void, we have the ability to step in, roll up our sleeves, and continue their holy work. The death of tzaddikim (righteous people) atones, for their memory inspires us to become great and illuminate the world with our deeds and actions.

(Reprinted from 5778)

The entire congregation of the children of Israel arrived at the desert of Zin in the first month, and the people settled in Kadesh. Miriam died there and was buried there. The congregation had no water; so, they assembled against Moses and Aaron (Bamidbar 20:1-2) 

The death of Miriam, a tragic loss for the Jewish people, was compounded by the lack of water in the desert after her passing. Rashi explains that the juxtaposition of these two details is extremely important;

From here [we learn that] all forty years they had the well in Miriam’s merit (20:2). 

The miraculous well which sustained the Jewish people over the last forty years had dried up. It was the merit of Miriam which sustained the people for the last four decades.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) makes an insightful and truly beautiful observation. Miriam didn’t know that the well was provided in her merit. The Jewish people didn’t know that the well was in the merit of Miriam. It was only after her passing that the Nation of Israel appreciated who this Matriarch was and what she meant to the people. It was only after her passing that Miriam realized what she had accomplished and contributed to the Jewish people.

This episode with the Rebbe’s explanation provides us with two dramatic life lessons. Too often, we don’t appreciate the special people in our lives until they are gone. There are things that our leaders and loved ones contribute to the fabric of our existence which we take for granted. We assume that these details and benefits are just part of our life package. We forget that very often the things we have are a result of someone else’s hard work. Tragically, it is not until that special person is gone that we realize how much he/she meant to us. This special person can be a parent, a spouse, a friend or a teacher. They are the people who work so hard to make us happy and successful and whom too often, we just take for granted. Our ancestors knew that Miriam was a righteous woman, they just didn’t appreciate what she provided them with each and every day. They never got to say thank you to a special woman who had given them so much.

The second lesson is a bit more nuanced. Miriam had no idea that her merit generated the well. She didn’t realize that it was her good deeds and personal piety which had such a dramatic effect. Many times, we grow frustrated because we feel we are not making an impact. Does my life really matter? Am I really contributing is some substantive way? Am I making my mark in this world? Miriam may have thought she didn’t matter all that much. There could be nothing further from truth. Miriam kept the people alive in the desert. It was her merit and spiritual accomplishment which sustained our nation. Just because you can’t see the impact of your actions, it doesn’t mean they aren’t occurring.  In life, you must try your best to do your best. You must put in the effort in the service of God and your fellow man. You must make the right choices and figure out how to become the very best version of yourself. And if you do all of this -know that you are positively impacting your world. You are effecting change. You are making a difference. Miriam did what she had to do in this world, and as a result, we were sustained and nourished. Everything we do makes a difference even when we can’t see it.

The death of Miriam was indeed a tragic loss. Tragic because we never got to say thank you to a woman who changed our lives. Tragic because maybe she herself never realized how truly important she was. May Miriam’s memory inspire us to appreciate the special people in our lives and provide us with the courage to keep doing good while living meaningful lives filled with optimistic belief that we are making a difference. (Reprinted from 5779)

“Moses spoke to the Lord, saying: ‘Let the Lord, the God of spirits of all flesh, appoint a man over the congregation,

who will go forth before them and come before them, who will lead them out and bring them in, so that the congregation of the Lord will not be like sheep without a shepherd.’ The Lord said to Moses, ‘Take for yourself Joshua the son of Nun, a man of spirit, and you shall lay your hand upon him. And you shall present him before Elazar the Kohen and before the entire congregation, and you shall command him in their presence. You shall bestow some of your majesty upon him so that all the congregation of the children of Israel will take heed.’” (Bamidbar 27: 15-20)

Over the course of the last few Parshios, Moshe had experienced the passing of his sister, Miriam, and his brother, Aharon, and had accepted the reality that he would not enter Israel. As a devoted leader, Moshe beseeched God to appoint an able shepherd to lead, look after and love the flock. Moshe would not lead them into the Promised Land, but he did all he could to ensure they would be cared for.

But with the passing of Miriam, Aharon, and ultimately Moshe, the Jewish nation fundamentally changed. An era would came to an end and a new chapter was written. On a purely practical, day to day level, it had been the merit of these holy individuals which had actively sustained the nation.

“Rabbi Yossi the son of Rabbi Yehuda said:  The Jewish people had three good leaders (providers); Moshe, Aharon and Miriam. In the merit of these three leaders, three gifts were given to the Jewish people; the well, the cloud and the manna. The well was in the merit of Miriam, the cloud in the merit of Aharon and the manna in the merit of Moshe.” (Taanis 9a)

Each gift was uniquely related to the individual personality. Miriam was a matriarchal figure for the Jewish people. She showered them with love, concern and care. Water represents chessed (kindness) and therefore the miraculous well was given to us in her merit. Moshe gave the people spiritual life by bringing down and then teaching the Torah. Just as he gave us spiritual nourishment, in his merit we were physically nourished with heavenly bread. But what is the connection between Aharon and the clouds? Why was it in Aharon’s merit that this Divine protection was provided?

The great Chassidic master Rav Yisroel of Ruzhin (1796-1850) provides a beautiful insight. In Pirkei Avos (Ethics of our Fathers) the great sage Hillel tells us, “Be of the disciples of Aharon, love peace, pursue peace, love people and bring them closer to Torah.” Aharon’s entire life mission was to create bonds of brotherhood and friendship between man and his fellow. He took it upon himself to settle disputes, help with relationship dynamics and attempt to restore equilibrium to the familial structure. “Aharon was a pursuer of shalom (peace) and made every attempt to amplify the feelings of shalom throughout the nation. It was through his influence that people came to truly love one another. From the breath (of the kind and loving words they said to one another) that emanated from their mouths, the clouds of Glory were created.” The clouds weren’t simply given to us; they were a result of the kind words, compassionate actions and loving care that we exhibited towards one another. It was the breath created through kind and harmonious speech which created the clouds. This is the meaning of the Gemara. In the merit of Aharon’s life-work of creating shalom, love, respect and harmony, we, the Jewish people engaged in the type of speech and behavior that created the clouds.

We can create clouds even when we don’t travel together as one camp. We can create Ananei HaKavod (clouds of glory) through our actions. By going out of our way for one another, performing acts of chessed and refining our interpersonal behavior, we create magnificent, majestic clouds that can shield our people. The Talmud explains that the clouds served three purposes: to protect us from the elements, to protect us from our enemies and to level mountains and other obstacles which stood in our way. When we blanket ourselves in shalom, we are shielded from our enemies. When we blanket ourselves in the performance of chessed we need not worry about the elements. When we are united as a people, no mountain stands in our way.

We lost our beautiful and holy Bais HaMikdash (Temple) because of internal strife, hatred and animosity. During these weeks when we mourn all that we have lost, we must bolster the clouds. Each and every day, we must do something to contribute to building and sustaining shalomin Klal Yisroel. We must work harder on our relationships. We must strive to do something meaningful for another at least once a day. We must learn how toi with dignity and respect to our fellow Jews who may not share our personal beliefs or practices. We must be careful and appropriate regarding how we speak to and about our gentile neighbors of all races and colors. We must make sure that our Shuls are not only holy places of learning and prayer, but also bastions of chessed(kindness). We must try to avoid infighting and machlokesand when we do clash, to figure ways to make shalom and restore peace. We yearn for redemption and salvation, yet we forget that we hasten this process with a kind word to someone whom we may not know, a “gut Shabbos” to a visitor in Shul, a phone call to someone who is struggling or not be socially connected.

We must remember that we need each other because it is only together that we can create the clouds. Let us hope that our words and actions over the coming days and weeks will forge, cement and bolster our magnificent and eternalAnanei HaKavod. May these beautiful clouds, shelter and protect us until the coming of Moshiach.

Bilam was a man on a mission. After receiving the invitation of Balak, the king of Moav, to curse the Jewish people, Bilam gathered some possessions, loaded his donkey and began the journey.

“In the morning Bilam arose, saddled his she-donkey and went with the Moabite dignitaries. God’s wrath flared because he was going, and an angel of the Lord stationed himself on the road to thwart him, and he was riding on his she-donkey, and his two servants were with him (Bamidbar 22:21-22)”

Rashi comments:“to thwart him: It was an angel of mercy, and he wanted to prevent him from sinning, for should he sin, he would perish.”

The Hebrew word the Torah uses for thwart isl’satan. This word conjures up many images. TheSatan is often understood to refer to the prosecuting angel who highlights our shortcomings and faults before the heavenly tribunal. At other times theSatan is a reference to the yetzer hara, the evil inclination which seeks to undermine our dynamic life growth. Yet, Rashi explains that this angel which came l’satan, to thwart, was an angel of mercy sent to try to prevent Bilam from making a terrible mistake.

It is in this simple statement that Rashi teaches us a profound life lesson about failure. There are times when, like Bilam, we set out to accomplish something great. We load the proverbial donkey and ready ourselves to move forward, only to encounter a roadblock. These roadblocks occur often throughout the journey of life. At times they are barriers which temporarily prevent us from moving forward and at other times they actively derail and overturn us. We must always remember that the roadblocks are merciful. God puts roadblocks in front of us for two primary reasons.  Sometimes the roadblocks tell us that we are headed down the wrong path. This is not the proper road for us. We need a new direction, a new destination. Many times, we think we know where we are supposed to go, but we are wrong. The destination we think we need to get to is not the right one for us (either for right now or perhaps forever). The roadblock tells us to turn around, choose a new destination and try again. Yet, sometimes the roadblock is there to make us work harder. The roadblock tells us to find an alternate route, a detour. The destination is correct but will be so much more impactful and meaningful if we must put in additional effort to reach it. The roadblock is there to test our resolve. How badly do we want to get to the intended destination? How far are we willing to travel? How hard are we willing to work? The roadblock doesn’t tell us to turn around, just to try harder.

It was an angel of mercy who tried to tell Bilam to turn around. He was headed down the wrong path; a path which would ultimately lead to his demise. It is this same angel of mercy who often stands in our way as well. At times he tells us to turn around and find another path and at times he smiles as he directs us onto the shoulder or towards a detour and gently encourages us to try harder and travel wiser. May God grant us the wisdom and understanding to know when to take the detour and when to turn around.

“The entire congregation of the children of Israel arrived at the desert of Zin in the first month, and the people settled in Kadesh. Miriam died there and was buried there. The congregation had no water; so, they assembled against Moses and Aaron.” (Bamidbar 20:1-2)

The death of Miriam, a tragic loss for the Jewish people, was compounded by the lack of water in the desert after her passing. Rashi explains that the juxtaposition of these two details is extremely important:

“From here [we learn that] all forty years they had the well in Miriam’s merit (20:2).” The miraculous well which sustained the Jewish people over the last forty years had dried up. It was the merit of Miriam which sustained the people for the last four decades.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) makes an insightful and truly beautiful observation. Miriam didn’t know that the well was provided in her merit. The Jewish people didn’t know that the well was in the merit of Miriam. It was only after her passing that the Nation of Israel appreciated who this Matriarch was and what she meant to the people. It was only after her passing that Miriam herself realized what she had accomplished and contributed to the Jewish people.

This episode, with the Rebbe’s explanation, provides us with two dramatic life lessons. Too often we don’t appreciate the special people in our lives until they are gone. There are things that our leaders and loved ones contribute to the foundation of our lives which we take for granted. We assume that these details and benefits are just part of our life package. We forget that very often the things we have are a result of someone else’s hard work. Tragically, it is not until that special person is gone that we realize how much he/she meant to us. This special person can be a parent, a spouse, a friend or a teacher. They are the people who work so hard to make us happy and successful and whom too often we just take for granted. Our ancestors knew that Miriam was a righteous woman, they just didn’t appreciate what she provided them with each and every day. They never got to say thank you to a special woman who had given them so much.

The second lesson is a bit more nuanced. Miriam had no idea that her merit generated the well. She didn’t realize that it was her good deeds and personal piety which had such a dramatic impact. Many times, we grow frustrated because we feel we are not making a difference. Does my life really matter? Am I really contributing is some substantive way? Am I making my mark in this world? Miriam may have thought she didn’t matter all that much. There could be nothing further from truth. Miriam kept the people alive in the desert. It was her merit and spiritual accomplishment which sustained our nation. Just because you can’t see the impact of your actions doesn’t mean they aren’t occurring. In life you must try your best to do your best. You must put in the effort in the service of God and your fellow man. You must make the right choices and figure out how to become the very best version of yourself. If you do all of this, know that you are positively impacting your world and effecting change. You are making a difference. Miriam did what she had to do in this world and as a result we were sustained and nourished. Everything we do makes a difference even if we can’t see it.

The death of Miriam was indeed a tragic loss. Tragic because we never got to say thank you to a woman who changed our lives. Tragic because maybe she herself never realized how truly important she was. May Miriam’s memory inspire us to appreciate the special people in our lives and provide us with the courage to keep doing good, living meaningful lives filled with optimistic belief that we are making a difference.