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Why Joshua Had to Go Out Before the People, Not After Them

Moses asked for a leader who goes out before the people, not behind them. Sifrei Bamidbar heard this as a rejection of every safer model of command.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Request Moses Made for Israel
  2. Moses as the Model He Demanded
  3. The Word That Meant Effort
  4. What the People Saw

The Request Moses Made for Israel

Moses knew he was dying. He had prayed to live, prayed to enter the land, prayed five hundred and fifteen times and received every answer except yes. Now he asked for something he could still obtain: a successor worth following. The specific words he used were unusual. He asked for a man who would go out before the people and come in before the people, who would take them out and bring them in. Sifrei Bamidbar heard a description in those words that eliminated every comfortable alternative.

A conventional general leads from distance. He positions himself where he can see the battlefield without being in it. He sends the troops through the gate first and follows when the situation is clear. Moses was explicitly rejecting that. He was also rejecting the opposite strategy, the rear commander who rallies stragglers and ensures no one is left behind. Moses was asking for the first man through the gate. The leader whose authority rests on being in front of the danger his people face.

Moses as the Model He Demanded

Sifrei Bamidbar points to Moses himself as the proof of what he was requesting. When God told Moses not to fear Og, king of Bashan, Moses went to the battle. He did not direct from behind the camp. He was there, at the front, with the certainty of divine protection. The model he asked for in a successor was the model he had embodied himself through forty years: present at the front, accessible to the people, the first to face whatever the road brought.

Legends of the Jews records the scene of transfer. When the moment came, Moses insisted on leading Joshua out of the tent himself. He gave Joshua precedence. He let his successor walk first. The people of Israel watched Moses, the man who had spoken to God face to face, step deliberately to the side so the one who came after him could go through the door first. The gesture was the last lesson. A leader who had led from the front his entire life demonstrated what it meant by yielding the front to the person who would take it from him.

The Word That Meant Effort

Sifrei Devarim picks up the command by which God appointed Joshua: take Joshua, the verse says, using the word kach. The midrash hears effort in the word. Take him, acquire him, because a true friend is obtained only with great difficulty. This is not a simple handoff. It is an argument that leadership succession, like friendship, requires work. Moses had to invest in Joshua. He had to train him, travel beside him, give him the apprenticeship that would make him capable. The appointment was not administrative. It was relational.

The Sifrei's list of what makes friendship worth the effort includes the qualities that distinguish a true companion from a convenient one. A friend who serves as witness when you are falsely accused. A friend who corrects you before others can humiliate you. A friend whose loyalty does not waver when you are under attack. Joshua had been all of these things to Moses. He had served Moses from his youth. He had stood at the tent when others were absent. When the ten spies came back with a report that made Israel weep through the night, Joshua was one of two who stood against the current and said the land was worth taking.

What the People Saw

When Israel looked up and saw Joshua walking before Moses, they began to weep. Moses reassured them. He told them Joshua would do for them everything he himself had done. He told them Joshua was capable. But the weeping was honest. A generation that had crossed the sea with Moses and heard Torah at Sinai was now being asked to follow someone who shone, as the tradition put it, like the moon beside the sun. Joshua's light was real. It was also reflected.

The request Moses had made of God specified not just courage but form: going out before, coming in before. That insistence on physical precedence was a statement about where authority lives. Not behind a desk. Not at the end of the column. In front, where the people can see their leader and the leader can see what his people are about to face.


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Legends of the Jews 6:158Legends of the Jews

That's a glimpse into the story of Joshua taking over leadership from Moses.

The moment had arrived. Joshua was ready, dressed for the occasion, prepared to step into the daunting role that awaited him. Word came to Moses that all of Israel was waiting. But what happened next is more than just a simple transfer of power; it's a deeply human moment, filled with humility and trepidation.

Moses, the towering figure who had led them out of Egypt, insisted on personally leading Joshua out of the tent. And, much to Joshua's discomfort, Moses insisted on giving him precedence. Imagine the scene: Moses, the man who spoke to God face-to-face, deliberately stepping aside, letting his successor go first.

In Ginzberg's retelling in, Legends of the Jews, when the people of Israel saw Joshua walking ahead of Moses, a wave of emotion swept through them. They trembled, they rose to their feet, and they made way for these two leaders. It wasn't just respect; it was a recognition that an era was ending, and a new one was beginning.

The drama didn't stop there. They proceeded to the place of the great, where a golden throne stood waiting. This wasn't just any chair; it was a symbol of authority, of leadership. And Moses, against Joshua's protests, seated him upon it. Can you imagine the weight of that moment?

The sight of Joshua on the golden throne triggered an outpouring of emotion from the Israelites. They wept. It was a moment of profound significance, a visual representation of the transfer of power, and the uncertainty that came with it.

And Joshua himself? Overwhelmed by the honor, the responsibility, the sheer weight of expectation, he cried out, "Why all this greatness and honor to me?" It's a raw, honest question, a moment of vulnerability that reminds us that even the greatest leaders are still human, still filled with doubt and humility.

This brief but powerful scene from Legends of the Jews isn't just about the succession of leadership. It's about the human cost of leadership, the burden of responsibility, and the humility required to step into enormous shoes. It’s a reminder that even in moments of great ceremony and tradition, there's always room for human emotion, for vulnerability, and for the recognition that no one is ever truly ready to face the future alone.

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Sifrei Devarim 305:1Sifrei Devarim

In fact, the Sifrei Devarim, a collection of early legal midrashim (rabbinic interpretive commentary) on the book of Deuteronomy, highlights this idea beautifully. It all starts with the verse in Numbers (Bamidbar 27:18) where G-d tells Moses to "take" Joshua as his successor: "And the L-rd said to Moses: Take ("kach") for yourself Joshua the son of Nun.."

Why "kach", take? The Sifrei Devarim sees something profound in that word. "Kach," it says, implies seizing, acquiring something with effort because, as the text so wisely observes, "a friend is acquired only with great difficulty." True friendship isn't just stumbled upon; it's cultivated, nurtured, and actively sought.

So, what makes a friendship worth all that effort? The Sages, quoted in the Sifrei Devarim, provide a beautiful list: "One should acquire a friend for himself to learn Scripture with him, to learn Mishnah (the earliest code of rabbinic law) with him, to eat with him, to drink with him, and to tell his secrets to him." It's about shared learning, shared experiences, and shared vulnerability. It's about building a bond that strengthens both of you.

The wisdom of this approach? It's echoed in Ecclesiastes (Kohelet 4:9): "Two are better than one… and the three-fold cord is not soon sundered." There's strength in numbers, sure, but also a deeper, more resilient bond when multiple elements intertwine.

But the relationship between Moses and Joshua is more than just friendship; it's about mentorship and the passing of the torch. How does Moses ensure a smooth transition of leadership?

The Sifrei Devarim offers two fascinating interpretations. The first suggests that the Holy Spirit instructed Moses to set up Joshua as an interpreter, having him "ask, expound, and teach rulings" while Moses was still alive. This way, the Israelites wouldn't later dismiss Joshua, saying, "In the lifetime of your teacher you did not speak, and now you (suddenly) speak?" It’s about validating Joshua's authority and preparing the people to accept his leadership.

The second interpretation is even more vivid: Moses physically lifted Joshua up and placed him between his knees, so that both Moses and all of Israel could hear Joshua's voice. Imagine that scene – Moses, the towering figure, literally elevating his student, giving him a platform, amplifying his voice.

Both interpretations underscore the importance of a seamless transition, ensuring that the teachings of the Torah would continue uninterrupted. And it all culminates in the powerful declaration: "Blessed is the L-rd, who gave Torah to Israel by the hand of Moses our teacher." It's a evidence of Moses's leadership, but also to his wisdom in preparing the next generation.

What does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it’s a reminder to cherish our friendships, to invest in them, and to recognize the profound impact they have on our lives. And maybe it’s also a call to consider how we can mentor and uplift others, ensuring that wisdom and knowledge are passed down through generations. After all, aren’t we all, in some way, students and teachers at the same time?

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