Ari Sacher

‘Disciples’: Parashat Pinchas 5786

If your last name is Manning and you play in the NFL, expectations come with the territory. Archie Manning was one of the most respected quarterbacks of his generation. His sons, Peyton and Eli, each won two Super Bowls and are destined for the Hall of Fame. Today the football world is watching the next chapter unfold as Archie’s grandson, Arch Manning, begins his own career. Fair or not, everyone assumes greatness runs in the family. The logic seems almost irresistible. Great athletes produce great athletes. Excellence is inherited. Of course the next Manning will become a star.

Sometimes it works that way. Sometimes it does not. The same assumption lies at the heart of one of the most intriguing Midrashim in the Torah. As Moshe reaches the end of his life, he turns to G-d with a single request [Bemidbar 27:17]: “May G-d appoint a man over the congregation.”

Moshe is making a very understandable request. His time has come and he asks G-d to appoint a successor while he is still alive. And yet, our Sages in the Midrash paint a very different picture. The Midrash [Sifrei Bemidbar 138] suggests that Moshe hoped one of his own sons would succeed him. He had just given the daughters of Zelophehad an inheritance in the Land of Israel. If daughters inherit property, Moshe reasoned, surely sons should inherit their father’s mantle.

Excuse me? What was Moshe thinking? The Torah has spent nearly forty years chronicling Moshe’s leadership. And yet we know virtually nothing about Gershom and Eliezer[1]. They never command armies. They never judge disputes. They never deliver prophecy. They never emerge as public figures of any kind. Compare them with Aaron’s sons. From the moment the Tabernacle (Mishkan) is inaugurated, Aaron’s children occupy centre stage. Even after Nadav and Avihu perish, Elazar and Itamar continue the priestly service. Aaron’s family is constantly in full view while Moshe’s family is almost invisible. If we had been asked, before reading the Midrash, to place a bet on Polymarket as to the identity of Moshe’s successor, Joshua would have been the overwhelming favourite. He defeats Amalek. He accompanies Moshe to Mount Sinai. He remains in the Tent of Meeting long after everyone else has left. He is one of only two spies who refuses to surrender to despair. Joshua looks like the obvious choice. Moshe’s sons do not.

The conventional explanation is that even Moshe wanted to establish a dynasty. Like every father, he wanted to see his children continue his life’s work. But that explanation feels strangely out of character. The Torah describes Moshe with words that are never applied to anyone else [Bemidbar 12:3]: “The man Moshe was exceedingly humble, more than any person on the face of the earth.” Humility and nepotism do not usually go hand in hand. Moshe never sought greatness for himself. He repeatedly resists G-d’s call at the burning bush. He repeatedly begs G-d to appoint someone else. Throughout his life, he consistently views himself as nothing more than G-d’s servant.

Perhaps it was precisely Moshe’s humility that led him to believe his sons could succeed him. Humility is often misunderstood. It does not mean denying one’s talents[2]. It means recognizing that those talents are gifts from G-d rather than personal accomplishments. Moshe understood this better than anyone. He never viewed himself as uniquely qualified. He never imagined that he had somehow earned prophecy or leadership. G-d had taken an obscure shepherd from Midian[3] and transformed him into the leader of Israel. From Moshe’s perspective, his own life demonstrated that greatness is bestowed by G-d. And if G-d could do that for him, why could He not do the same for Gershom or Eliezer?

Notice how Moshe frames his request. He asks G-d to appoint “a man over the congregation.” The word “man” appears almost incidental, but the Torah does not waste words. This is precisely the same word in which the Torah describes Moshe himself – “the man, Moshe.” This word is not merely a description of gender. It is a title of stature. A person whose character has reached extraordinary heights. G-d responds with language that unmistakably echoes Moshe’s prayer [Bemidbar 27:18]: “Take for yourself Joshua son of Nun, a man in whom there is spirit.” Moshe asks for a man. G-d identifies Joshua as that man.

Yet this raises another fascinating question. The Midrash explains Joshua’s selection by emphasizing his lifelong devotion to Moshe. Joshua arranged the benches in the study hall. He prepared the room. He faithfully served his teacher. Leadership was earned through years of apprenticeship. But who was Moshe’s teacher? Who did Moshe apprentice under? The answer is no one. Moshe did not spend decades following Abraham, Jacob, Levi, or even his own father Amram. He did not become great by attaching himself to another leader. Moshe encountered G-d at the burning bush. His greatness descended directly from Heaven. This was Moshe’s life story. It is therefore understandable that he viewed leadership through that lens. G-d chooses whom He chooses. G-d equips whom He equips. If this is how Moshe became Moshe, why should his sons be excluded?

G-d’s response reveals that history is changing. Joshua’s greatness is different. He is not another Moshe. He is the first Joshua. His authority does not emerge from a private encounter with G-d but from forty years of faithful discipleship. He learned leadership by observing Moshe every single day. The Midrashic image of Joshua arranging benches suddenly becomes profound. The future of Judaism will depend less upon moments of revelation and more upon years of transmission. This is the first great transition in Jewish history. Moshe belongs to the Age of Revelation. Joshua inaugurates the Age of Mesorah – the transmission of tradition from generation to generation.

The first Mishnah of Tractate Avot suddenly reads differently: “Moshe received Torah from Sinai and transmitted it to Joshua.” We usually hear those words as a list of names. Perhaps they describe a revolution. Moshe received Torah directly from Sinai. Joshua received Torah from Moshe. That is not merely the beginning of a chain. It is the replacement of one model of leadership with another. From this point onward, every generation moves one step further from direct revelation and one step closer to faithful transmission. Joshua teaches the Elders. The Elders teach the Prophets. The Prophets teach the Men of the Great Assembly. Eventually prophecy itself comes to an end with Malachi.

Seen this way, the end of prophecy is not an abrupt event. It is the completion of a process that began when G-d chose Joshua over Moshe’s sons. There would never again be another Moshe. Not because G-d could no longer raise one up, but because Judaism would no longer depend upon singular individuals who received revelation directly from Heaven. It would depend upon disciples who became teachers, upon students who became masters, upon one generation faithfully handing the Torah to the next.

There is one final irony. Moshe’s greatest virtue may have prevented him from appreciating his own uniqueness. Because he was the humblest of all men, he assumed that what G-d had done for him was not extraordinary. G-d teaches him otherwise. You, Moshe, were unique. Your sons may very well be no less worthy than you but that is irrelevant. Joshua has become the next link in the chain – better, the first link in a new chain.

The Manning family reminds us that greatness can sometimes run in families. The Torah teaches something far more enduring: Spiritual greatness does not run through bloodlines. It runs through transmission. The future belongs not only to sons, but to the students.

Shabbat Shalom,

Ari Sacher, Moreshet, 5786

Please daven for a Refu’a Shelema for Rachel bat Malka, Iris bat Chana, Sheindel Devora bat Rina, Esther Sharon bat Chana Raizel, Meir ben Drora, Golan ben Marcelle and Hodayah Emunah bat Shoshana Rachel.

[1] In this context, Rabbi Eliyahu Zinni taught us that when the Torah has nothing nice to say about a person, it will all too often remain silent.

[2] See our shiur on Beha’alotecha 5762 for another interpretation.

[3] Albeit one who had grown up in Pharaoh’s palace.

About the Author
Ari Sacher is a Rocket Scientist, and has worked in the design and development of missiles for over thirty years. He has briefed hundreds of US Congressmen on Missile Defense, including three briefings on Capitol Hill at the invitation of House Majority Leader. Ari is a highly requested speaker, enabling even the layman to understand the "rocket science". Ari has also been a scholar in residence in numerous synagogues in the USA, Canada, UK, South Africa, and Australia. He is a riveting speaker, using his experience in the defense industry to explain the Torah in a way that is simultaneously enlightening and entertaining. Ari came on aliya from the USA in 1982. He studied at Yeshivat Kerem B’Yavneh, and then spent seven years studying at the Technion. Since 2000 he has published a weekly parasha shiur - more than 1,100 in total. Ari lives in Moreshet in the Western Galil along with his wife and eight children.
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