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Moses and David Will Shepherd Israel at the End of Days

At the burning bush Moses was warned off two crowns that would never be his. The priesthood belonged to Aaron. The throne belonged to a boy not yet born.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Draw No Nearer
  2. One Sentence at the Rock
  3. After All This Labor
  4. The Throne Was Not Settled Until They Sang
  5. Seven Shepherds and a Man in the Middle
Moses and David Will Shepherd Israel at the End of Days Click for full size

Draw No Nearer

A bush was burning in the back of the wilderness and not going out, and Moses left the flock standing to walk over and look at it. He got close. A voice stopped him where he was. Draw no nearer.

Take off your shoes, and then the terms. The honor coming to him was his and would go no further: not to his sons, not to his sons' sons, not one inch past his own lifetime. And there were two things in the world already spoken for, and he was not to put a hand on either. The priesthood belonged to Aaron and to Aaron's children after him. The kingship belonged to David and the house of David.

Aaron was in Egypt, alive, an older brother Moses had not seen in decades. David had not been born and would not be for centuries. Moses stood barefoot in front of a fire that would not eat its own fuel and was told, before he had agreed to anything, the exact shape of what he would never be allowed to hold.

He took the job.

One Sentence at the Rock

Forty years later the water ran out again at Kadesh and the people came at him again, and he stood in front of the rock with the staff in his hand and said, "Hear now, you rebels."

That sentence cost him the country.

The sages who worked over it did not pretend the punishment was proportionate. They reached for an image from a wardrobe. A moth gets into a garment and does not tear it, does not burn it, simply eats the thing quietly until there is nothing left to wear. Every good thing Moses had wanted was in that one wish, to walk across the river and stand in the land, and it went the way of a coat in a chest.

Rav Aha looked at where it ended and said the hard version out loud. The man who had been set up as a god over Pharaoh was now flat on the ground, begging.

After All This Labor

God told him his days were drawing near.

"Master of the world," Moses said. "After all this labor, You say to me that my days are drawing near? I shall not die. I shall live and tell what the Lord has done."

"You cannot," God said. "That is all of man."

Moses tried a different door. "Then one thing before my death. Let me go in, and let every gate in heaven be split open and every deep place under the earth, so that they all see with their own eyes that there is nothing besides You."

He was offering to trade his own crossing for a public proof that God was alone in the world, which was the one thing he knew heaven wanted more than it wanted him on the far bank.

God did not take it. What He said instead was that Moses had spoken about there being no other, and He would say the same about Moses: no prophet has risen in Israel like him, and none has since. The man asked for a river crossing and got a sentence written about him. He died on the wrong side of the water with the sentence.

The Throne Was Not Settled Until They Sang

There had been one morning when he held everything.

The sea had closed, the chariots were rolling in the surf, and Moses opened his mouth on the shore and the whole nation came in behind him. Rabbi Berekhya said in the name of Rabbi Abahu what that song did. God has existed from eternity, and even so His throne was not settled and He was not known in His own world until His children stood on a beach and sang. It is the difference between a king and an emperor. A king rules. Then he fights a war, and wins it, and the people who watched him win it raise him.

Centuries later a man in the hills of Judah wrote that he would not be afraid of the multitude of people who came against him in battle. The rabbis reading that line heard an older voice under it. Moses had counted the nations around him and said they were more numerous than he was, and had been told, flatly, not to be afraid of them. The same fear, the same answer, the shepherd with the staff and the shepherd with the harp saying it four centuries apart.

Seven Shepherds and a Man in the Middle

When the end comes, there will be seven of them walking with the Messiah, and the Talmud sets them out by name and by position. David stands in the middle. Adam, Seth, and Methuselah are on his right. Abraham, Jacob, and Moses are on his left.

Look at where they put him. Not at the head of it. On the left hand of the shepherd boy from Bethlehem, close enough to touch the crown he was warned away from at a burning bush before that boy's ancestors had left Egypt.

Moses never got the land, never got the priesthood, never got the throne, and never got to pass any of it to a son. What he gets, at the end, is a place in the line, and the shepherd boy standing on his right.


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Legends of the Jews 4:196Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

It's going to be quite the leadership gathering.

Legends tell us that in that Messianic era, Moses himself will be one of the seven shepherds guiding Israel, right alongside the Messiah. Moses! Back in the fold, helping to lead the way to a perfected world.

Let's rewind a bit, back to the very beginning of Moses's incredible journey. Remember that burning bush?

As the story goes, when Moses famously "turned aside to see the great sight, that the bush was not consumed," he heard a voice booming out, "Draw not nigh hither." (Exodus 3:5). Simple enough. But there's so much more layered into those words.

According to the ancient sages, this wasn't just a warning about getting too close to a divine phenomenon. It was a profound lesson about humility, leadership, and knowing your place. The message, they say, was that the immense dignity and honor God intended for Moses was meant for him and him alone. It wasn't something to be passed down to his descendants as an inherited right.

More than that, Moses was being cautioned, in a way, not to overstep. He was being warned "not to arrogate honors appointed for others," as Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews beautifully puts it. See, the priesthood? That was destined for Aaron and his lineage. And royalty? That belonged to David and his royal house.

Even for someone as chosen and powerful as Moses, there were boundaries. There was a divine order to things. We all have our unique roles to play. Our own burning bushes, if you will. And it's up to us to recognize them, to step up, but also to respect the roles and callings of others.

So, next time you read the story of the burning bush, remember it's not just about a miraculous flame. It's a lesson in humility, boundaries, and the beautiful pattern of leadership that God weaves throughout history. And perhaps a glimpse into that future era, when figures like Moses will once again guide us.

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Devarim Rabbah 11:8Devarim Rabbah

Translation of the source text.Midrash Rabbah -- TE · Public Domain

At the time when the days of Moses drew near for him to depart from the world, the Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: "Behold, your days draw near" (Deuteronomy 31:14). He said before Him: Master of the universe, after all this toil You say to me, "Behold, your days draw near"? "I shall not die but live, and recount the deeds of the LORD" (Psalms 118:17). He said to him: You cannot, "for this is the whole of man" (Ecclesiastes 12:13). Moses said: Master of the universe, one thing I ask of You before my death, that I may enter, and that all the gates in the heavens and the depths may be split open, and they will see that there is none beside You. From where? As it is said: "And you shall know this day, and lay it to your heart" and so forth, "there is none else" (Deuteronomy 4:39). The Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: You said "there is none else," so I too say: "And there arose no prophet again in Israel like Moses" and so forth, "for all the signs and the wonders" and so forth, "and for all the great terror which Moses wrought before the eyes of all Israel" (Deuteronomy 34:10-12).

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Devarim Rabbah 2:2Devarim Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

Deuteronomy, or Devarim in Hebrew, is full of Moses' final words, his reflections on a lifetime of leadership. And within the rabbinic compilation called Devarim Rabbah, a midrash – a kind of interpretive commentary – on Deuteronomy, we find a powerful exploration of just that theme.

It all starts with the verse, “I pleaded with the Lord” (Deuteronomy 3:23). But the rabbis don't just take it at face value. They delve deeper, connecting it to a verse from Psalms (39:12): “You chastise a man with punishments for iniquity, consuming his delight like a moth. Surely man is mere nothingness.” What's the link?

The midrash argues that Moses is being "chastised with punishments for iniquity" because of one specific moment. Remember when Moses, frustrated with the Israelites, called them "defiant ones" (Numbers 20:10) before striking the rock to bring forth water? That, the midrash suggests, was Moses' iniquity.

Who is this "man" being spoken of? The midrash is clear: it's none other than Moses himself, "the man Moses [who] was very humble" (Numbers 12:3). So, even the humblest among us, the greatest prophet, can stumble.

But what about the "consuming his delight like a moth" part? What delight are we talking about? According to the midrash, it's Moses' deepest desire: to enter the Land of Israel. Just as a moth slowly eats away at a garment, so too did Moses’ sin prevent him from reaching his ultimate goal. As we find in Jeremiah (3:19), God promises to give "a land of delight..." – the very thing denied to Moses.

One slip-up, and a lifetime of longing goes unfulfilled. But the midrash doesn't stop there. It uses Moses’ experience to make a broader point: if this is what happened to righteous Moses, how much more so are the rest of us destined for "nothingness" and judgment?

Rav Aḥa adds a final, poignant layer to this interpretation. He points out that Moses, who was once elevated to the status of a god – elo’ah in Hebrew, as it says, "I have put you as a god [elohim] for Pharaoh" (Exodus 7:1) – is now pleading and prostrating himself. Even someone who held such a high position is brought to his knees in supplication.

So, what do we take away from this midrash? Is it a warning about the severity of divine judgment? Perhaps. But maybe it's also a reminder of our shared humanity. Even the greatest among us are fallible, subject to mistakes and their consequences. And even in the face of those consequences, there's still room for pleading, for repentance, and for striving to be better.

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Midrash Tehillim 3:9Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

Even Moses, leading the Israelites out of Egypt, felt that way. He looked at the nations surrounding them, nations far more numerous, and thought, "These nations are more numerous than me" (Deuteronomy 7:17). It's right there in the Torah. But what does God tell him immediately after? "You shall not be afraid of them" (Deuteronomy 7:18).

That tension – the feeling of being overwhelmed versus the call to courage – is at the heart of our reading today, a passage from Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms.

The Rabbis find layers and layers of meaning in these words. It's not just about physical battles, but also about the struggles we face throughout history, and even the battles within ourselves.

The Psalm continues, "Arise, O Lord; save me, O my God!" Rabbi Pinchas, quoting Rabbi Hoshea, points out that David, traditionally considered the author of the Psalms, uses this very verse five times in the first book of Psalms. And what do these five instances represent? According to this Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), four correspond to the four empires that oppressed Israel – Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome. And the fifth? It represents Gog and Magog, the ultimate battle at the end of days. So, even in David’s time, these words echoed with a sense of past oppressions and future anxieties.

And then comes the line, "For You have struck all my enemies on the cheekbone." This one is fascinating. Rabbi Levi interprets this as a plague of the mouth. He connects it to a verse that says, "And he commanded his house, and they strangled him. The idea seems to be that the enemies are silenced, their power of speech and influence taken away.

Rabbi Ahava offers a different, equally compelling take. He says it refers to those who acted like mighty men, like Samson, drawing a parallel to the story where Samson defeats his enemies with the jawbone of a donkey. "And he found a fresh jawbone of a donkey..." (Judges 15:15). Two wicked people were shattered. In both interpretations, there's a sense of divine justice, of God intervening to protect the vulnerable.

The passage concludes with a powerful sentiment: "If you act in this way for the Lord, your blessing will be upon your people. Selah." Selah – a word we find throughout the Psalms, often interpreted as a pause, a moment for reflection. What are we meant to reflect on here? Perhaps it’s the idea that our actions, our courage in the face of adversity, can bring blessings not just to ourselves, but to our community, to our people.

So, what do we take away from this ancient text? Maybe it’s the reminder that we all face moments of feeling outnumbered, outmatched. But within those moments, there's also the potential for courage, for faith, and for the belief that even in the face of overwhelming odds, we are not alone. And that our actions, inspired by faith and a commitment to justice, can bring blessings to the world around us.

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Shemot Rabbah 23:1Shemot Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

Pay close attention to that little word, "Then" – in Hebrew, az. "Az Moses sang.." That tiny word holds a universe of meaning, according to Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus.

Shemot Rabbah 23 draws a profound connection between that moment of song and a verse from Psalms: "Your throne is established of old [me’az]; [You have existed from eternity]" (Psalms 93:2).

Rabbi Berekhya, quoting Rabbi Abahu, offers a stunning idea: Even though God has existed eternally, His throne wasn't truly settled, He wasn't fully known in the world, until His children sang that song. It was only then, with that az, that things shifted. Think of it like this, and this analogy comes straight from Shemot Rabbah: Imagine a king who goes to war and wins. Before the victory, he’s still a king, sure. But afterward? They make him an emperor.

What's the difference? Well, a king is often depicted standing, ready for battle. But an emperor? He's shown seated, having already conquered his enemies, at rest upon his throne. He's established.

The text contrasts the Hebrew words me’az (from then) and az (then). Before creation, before the splitting of the sea, God was. But there’s a distinction. The text implies God was, “as it were, standing,” as it says in (Habakkuk 3:6), "He stood and measured the earth."

But when the Israelites stood at the sea and sang that song, with that powerful word "az," then God's kingdom was settled. Then His throne was established. "Your throne is established of old [me’az]," because "az Moses sang."

What does this all mean? It suggests that our praise, our acknowledgment of God's power and presence in the world, isn't just a one-way street. It actually establishes God's reign in a new way. Our song, our gratitude, our very recognition of the Divine, solidifies the throne. As Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews, the song elevated God's status in the eyes of the world.

It's a participatory relationship. It's not just about God acting upon us, but about us, through our actions and especially through our expressions of faith, creating a space for the Divine to be fully realized.

Next time you sing a prayer, or express gratitude, remember the Song at the Sea. Remember az. You're not just reciting words; you're helping to establish the very throne of God in the world.

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