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Phinehas Fed by Eagles While the Clouds Wait for Him

After his famous act at Shittim, Phinehas was sent to a mountain at the age of one hundred and twenty. Eagles brought him food. He has not come down yet.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Assignment That Was Not Retirement
  2. Fed by Eagles
  3. The Company of the Deathless
  4. The Twelve Miracles at Shittim

The Assignment That Was Not Retirement

Phinehas was one hundred and twenty years old when God gave him a new instruction. He had driven a javelin through two people at Shittim and stopped a plague mid-count. He had served as high priest through the period of the judges. He had stood before the Ark and prayed while Israel lost two battles against Benjamin and then won a third. He was the grandson of Aaron, inheritor of a priestly covenant that the Torah described as a covenant of peace.

At one hundred and twenty, God told him to climb a mountain and stay there.

The mountain was called Har Danaben. The instruction was not temporary. God told Phinehas that he would not come down from the mountain until a specific condition was met: until the time when he locked fast the clouds and opened them again. Rain and drought. The authority over weather itself was being held in reserve, for a future moment that had not yet arrived.

Fed by Eagles

God told Phinehas he would not starve. The eagles would bring him food, commanded by heaven to provision a man too important to die in the ordinary way. The parallel was not accidental. Elijah had been fed by ravens at the Wadi Cherith while he hid from a king who wanted him dead. Both men were men whose time had not yet come, held in remote places by divine instruction and kept alive by creatures of the air.

The tradition understood this as a particular category of existence: not death, not ordinary life, but a kind of suspended state, present in the world but removed from its ordinary circuits. Phinehas on his mountain was waiting for a future that had been promised without being named. He did not know when it would come. He would know when it arrived, because the clouds would be his to lock and release.

The Company of the Deathless

The tradition that places Phinehas in a category of individuals who did not die in the ordinary way puts him in remarkable company. Enoch was taken by God and was not. Elijah went up in a chariot of fire and a whirlwind. Moses died, but his burial place was hidden, and the manner of his death was unlike any other death in the Torah's account. The tradition noticed that certain figures simply could not be allowed to end in the usual way, because what they represented could not be allowed to end.

For Phinehas the reason was specific. His covenant with God was a covenant of eternal priesthood. The text of Numbers 25:13 gives him and his descendants a priestly covenant forever. The tradition read that covenant literally. If the covenant was forever, Phinehas had to be available to fulfill it. The mountain was where he waited for the covenant's next requirement.

The Twelve Miracles at Shittim

The act that had established Phinehas's standing, the javelin thrust at Shittim, was accompanied in the tradition by twelve miracles, each one of which should have prevented him from completing the act. The doorpost he burst through should have been too narrow for two people. The iron of the javelin should not have been able to penetrate without deflecting. The bodies should not have fallen in the precise position that made the act a single stroke. One by one, the physical world arranged itself against the ordinary outcome, and one by one the outcome happened anyway.

A man for whom twelve miracles were performed in sequence at age forty, and who was told at age one hundred and twenty to wait on a mountain for the next assignment, was not a man whose story could be considered finished.


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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews 2:81Legends of the Jews

Did they just. fade away? Well, let's

Phinehas, remember him? The zealous grandson of Aaron who, in Numbers 25, took decisive action to stop a plague and was rewarded with a covenant of peace? Turns out, his story didn't end there.

In Legends of the Jews, a monumental work compiled by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, God spoke to Phinehas when he reached the ripe old age of one hundred and twenty. That's considered a full life, the "natural term of man's life," as it says. But God had something else in mind for him.

God tells Phinehas to go to Mount Danaben and stay there for many years. Can you imagine? Living in solitude, high on a mountain. But it's not a complete abandonment. God promises to command the eagles to sustain him with food. Think of it: a divinely ordained room service, but with eagles instead of waiters!

The purpose of this isolation? It's fascinating. God says that Phinehas won't return to humanity "until the time when thou lockest fast the clouds and openest them again." This suggests a future role for Phinehas, one connected to controlling the very elements! What does it mean to "lock fast the clouds and openest them again?" It sounds like he's being entrusted with a cosmic responsibility, maybe even a role in bringing rain or ending droughts.

And the story doesn't end even there. God continues, "Then I will carry thee to the place where those are who were before thee, and there thou wilt tarry until I visit the world, and bring thee thither to taste of death." This is perhaps the most intriguing part. Phinehas is promised a sort of suspended animation, a waiting period among other figures from the past until God "visits the world" and brings him back to finally experience death.

It's a remarkable image: Phinehas, the zealous priest, living on a mountaintop, fed by eagles, controlling the clouds, and waiting for a future divine visitation. It certainly adds a layer of mystique to this biblical figure, doesn't it? It makes you wonder about all the untold stories, the unseen roles, and the hidden destinies within the vast pattern of Jewish tradition.

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Shemot Rabbah 47:7Shemot Rabbah

What did he eat? Did he even sleep? to what Shemot Rabbah, a classical collection of Rabbinic homilies on the Book of Exodus, tells us.

The verse from (Exodus 34:27), "The Lord said to Moses: Write for yourself these matters," is our launching point. It’s connected to a verse in (Psalms 119:71), "It is good for me that I was afflicted, so I might learn Your statutes." According to the Etz Yosef commentary, the affliction refers to the 120 days Moses fasted on Mount Sinai. That's forty days before descending with the first tablets, forty days interceding after the Golden Calf incident, and forty days before descending with the second set. All that time, he was studying Torah!

What fueled him? Shemot Rabbah offers a few intriguing answers. One idea is that Moses was sustained by the "aura of the Divine Presence," drawing on (Nehemiah 9:6): "And You sustain them all." It's a beautiful image, picturing Moses drawing sustenance directly from God's radiant energy.

Another answer? The Torah itself! The text quotes (Ezekiel 3:1), 3, where the prophet is told to eat a scroll: "Son of man, eat what you find, [eat this scroll]…I ate it." Why? Because, as (Psalms 19:11) says, the Torah is "sweeter than honey and the nectar of ripe fruit." Think of it: Moses was nourished by the very wisdom he was receiving, a spiritual feast. It was the "bread of Torah," as (Proverbs 9:5) puts it: "Come, partake of my bread."

But what about sleep? Did Moses ever doze off? Shemot Rabbah uses a wonderful analogy. Imagine a king who loves his treasurer and gives him a limited time to collect gold from the royal treasury. Overjoyed, the treasurer forgets about food, drink, and sleep, driven only by the desire to gather as much treasure as possible. But eventually, fatigue sets in. He thinks, "If I sleep, I'll lose this opportunity!"

Moses, too, was in a similar situation. He was so engrossed in learning the Torah, realizing the limited time he had, that he forgot to eat, drink, and sleep. He feared that if he slept, he would lose precious learning time.

So, what was the reward for this dedication? God says, "You afflicted yourself; by your life, you will not lose. On the first tablets there were only the Ten Commandments. Now that you afflicted yourself, I will give you halakhot (Jewish laws), midrashim (rabbinic interpretive commentary) (interpretive stories), and aggadot (anecdotal teachings)." That’s why God commanded Moses to "write for yourself these matters" (Exodus 34:27).

Wait a minute... If the script was "the script of God" (Exodus 32:16) and God inscribed the tablets "like the first inscription" (Deuteronomy 10:4), why tell Moses to write for himself? Here’s the key: God was instructing Moses to write down the Torah, Prophets, and Writings, but the halakhot, midrashim, aggadot, and Talmud would be passed down orally.

This distinction highlights the importance of both the written and the oral traditions in Judaism. The written Torah provides the foundation, while the oral tradition enriches and expands upon it, offering layers of interpretation and understanding.

Realizing this profound gift, Moses exclaims, "It is good for me that I was afflicted" (Psalms 119:71); "The Torah of Your mouth is better for me [than thousands of gold and silver pieces]" (Psalms 119:72). In other words, the effort, the sacrifice, the "affliction" was worth it, because it led to a deeper, richer understanding of God's word.

It makes you wonder: What "afflictions" in our own lives might actually be opportunities in disguise, leading us to a greater appreciation for the wisdom and guidance that surrounds us? Perhaps, like Moses, we too can find sweetness even in moments of hardship, discovering that the greatest treasures are often earned through dedication and perseverance.

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Tikkunei Zohar 56:12Tikkunei Zohar

Tikkunei Zohar turns to The Golden Calf and Moses on Mount Sinai.

The text highlights a curious phrase from (Exodus 32:1): "And the People saw that Moses delayed…" The Tikkunei Zohar, through a play on words, unpacks this delay as vo-shesh. It then connects this to ba-shesh, meaning "in six." According to the sages (BT Shabbat 89a), "in these six hours they made the golden calf." In just six hours, they managed to derail their entire spiritual journey!

The text goes on to say that this act separated between the Vav and the Qei. Now, the Vav (ו) is the sixth letter of the Hebrew alphabet and has the numerical value of six, and the Qei (ה) is the fifth letter with a numerical value of five. The text associates these with the numbers six and seven. The implication is that the sin created a rift between the sixth millennium and the seventh millennium – a crucial period in Jewish mystical thought that speaks to the coming of the Messiah and ultimate redemption.

What does this separation mean? What's so important about the sixth and seventh millennia? Jewish tradition teaches that the world operates in cycles, and the seventh millennium will be an era of profound spiritual awakening and peace. The sin of the Golden Calf, in this reading, jeopardized that future, delaying and complicating our path toward that ultimate era.

The text then makes a poignant statement: "because of them, the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence) was as 'a broken unleavened-bread'…the bread of poverty…Poverty, specifically!" The Shekhinah is the Divine Presence, the aspect of God that dwells among us in the world. And matzah, unleavened bread, is a symbol of humility and freedom, especially during Passover, as we read in (Deuteronomy 16:3). The Golden Calf, a symbol of idolatry and materialism, effectively "broke" the connection to the Divine, leaving us in a state of spiritual poverty.

This isn't just about ancient history; it's about our present moment. The Tikkunei Zohar suggests that our actions have consequences that ripple through time, impacting not only ourselves but also the very fabric of reality and our collective destiny. The mixed multitude at the Giving of the Torah, and their actions, created a spiritual challenge that we are still working to overcome.

So, what's the takeaway? Perhaps it's a call to be mindful of our choices, to recognize that even seemingly small actions can have profound implications. Maybe it's an invitation to bridge the gaps, to heal the brokenness, and to work towards a future where the Divine Presence is fully revealed. It also serves as a lesson to have patience in times of uncertainty and stress. After all, the redemption isn't just something that happens to us; it's something we actively participate in creating, one moment, one choice, at a time.

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Targum Jonathan on Numbers 25Targum Jonathan

The place was called Shittim, and the Targum explains the name: it derives from shetutha, meaning foolishness and depravity. The Targum's version of (Numbers 25) describes Moabite women who "brought out the image of Peor, concealed under their bundles", the idol was literally smuggled in beneath their clothing. Israel's attachment to the idol is compared to "the nail in the wood, which is not separated but by breaking up the wood." You could not pull them free without destroying them.

When Zimri brought the Midianite woman Kosbi before the congregation, the Targum gives him a speaking role the Torah omits. He confronted Moses directly: "What is it that is wrong to have company with her? If you say it is forbidden, did you not yourself take a Midianite, the daughter of Jethro?" When Moses heard this, "he trembled and swooned." The leader of Israel fainted. The people wept and cried "Listen!" but no one acted.

Then Phinehas rose and shouted: "He who ought to kill, let him kill! Where are the lions of the tribe of Judah?" Silence. "When they saw, they were quiet." So Phinehas took the lance himself.

What follows is the Targum's most extraordinary list: twelve miracles that sustained Phinehas during the killing. He tried to separate them but could not. Their mouths were sealed so they could not scream for rescue. The lance pierced both bodies. It stayed fixed in the wound. The lintel lifted itself so he could carry them out. He bore them through the entire camp, six miles, without fatigue. He held them aloft with his right arm while their kinsmen watched, powerless. The lance did not break under the weight. The iron pierced but did not withdraw. An angel came and stripped the corpses bare for all to see. They stayed alive throughout the entire procession so the priest would not be defiled by the dead. Only after Phinehas had carried them through every corner of the camp did their blood flow and they died.

The Targum also reveals that Kosbi was actually Balak's daughter, "daughter of Zur, who was called Shelonae, a daughter of Balak." And God's reward for Phinehas was staggering: "I decree to him My covenant of peace, and will make him an angel of the covenant, that he may ever live, to announce the Redemption at the end of the days." Phinehas did not just receive priesthood. He became immortal.

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