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The Three Things Moses Wanted More Than Canaan

Moses prayed to cross the Jordan 515 times and was refused. But the rabbis preserved three deeper desires he had long before he asked about the land.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Requests Before the Land
  2. The Divine Presence Among Israel
  3. The Attribute of Mercy
  4. The Third Desire and Its Answer
  5. What the Hidden Wisdom Contained

The Requests Before the Land

Everyone knows Moses wanted to cross the Jordan. He prayed about it five hundred and fifteen times, the numerical value of the word va'etchanan, with which his final plea begins. God said no each time, firmly, and Moses accepted it, and that is the story most people remember about his last days on earth.

But before he ever thought about the land, Moses had wanted three things that had nothing to do with geography. The tradition preserved them separately, as an older and in some ways deeper record of what the man actually wanted from his time as God's closest human partner. Two of the three God granted. The third required a conversation about the nature of mercy itself.

The Divine Presence Among Israel

The first desire was this: Moses wanted the Shekhinah, the divine presence, to dwell among the people of Israel. Not to visit. Not to appear occasionally at the Tabernacle entrance when Moses entered. To dwell: to take up residence, to make Israel's camp its permanent home the way a person makes a home in a place and stops traveling.

God granted this. The cloud by day and the fire by night were the visible signs of a presence that had committed to staying. The Tabernacle was built as a dwelling, not a meeting-place, and the tradition took seriously the idea that God had moved in. Moses had asked for this and received it, and the entire wilderness period, its difficult years notwithstanding, was the sustained fulfillment of his first request.

The Attribute of Mercy

The second desire was stranger: Moses wanted to know which attribute God used to govern the world. Not power, not justice alone. What attribute was primary? He had seen God write the words erekh apayim, slow to anger, into the Torah, and something in that phrase arrested him. He asked God directly: tell me the principle by which you rule. God answered: loving-kindness. Mercy above all other attributes.

Moses asked for something further: when justice demands punishment and mercy argues against it, let mercy win. Let that be the rule. God told him the rule was already in place. The entire system of divine response to human failure was built around the priority of mercy. Moses was asking God to confirm what God had already decided. But the asking mattered. It showed Moses understood what he had been working with for forty years in the wilderness, not a God who measured precisely and punished automatically, but a God whose default setting was to find a reason to hold back.

The Third Desire and Its Answer

The third desire: Moses wanted the wicked to repent rather than be destroyed. He had stood between God and Israel often enough during the wilderness years to know what divine wrath looked like up close. He had broken the tablets, he had ground the golden calf to powder and made the people drink it, he had watched Korach's followers go down into the earth. He did not want more of that. He wanted the wicked to turn back. He wanted teshuvah to work before the punishment arrived rather than after.

God granted this desire conditionally: the possibility of repentance would always exist, always be accessible, never be closed. What God did not grant was a guarantee that the wicked would make use of it. Moses had wanted both the door and its use. He received only the door, permanently open. The walking through it remained in human hands.

What the Hidden Wisdom Contained

The esoteric tradition added something to Moses's portrait that the narrative alone does not convey: he carried within him a level of soul-knowledge that placed him in direct contact with the roots of divine wisdom. The Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, a kabbalistic text, describes the layered spiritual hierarchy that Moses navigated not as external territory but as internal structure. His understanding of mercy was not abstract theology. It was intimate knowledge of how the divine operated at its foundational level, the kind of knowledge that comes from having been inside the system rather than studying it from outside.


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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 2:117Legends of the Jews

It wasn't just about leading the Israelites out of Egypt. According to the Legends of the Jews, as retold by Louis Ginzberg, Moses harbored three deep desires.

First, he yearned for the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence) to dwell with Israel. The Shekhinah, that radiant divine presence, a tangible connection between God and His people. Second, he wished the Shekhinah would only dwell with Israel. A bit exclusive, perhaps, but a evidence of his unwavering devotion.

The third wish? Ah, the third wish is the real head-scratcher. Moses longed to understand God's ways. Specifically, why good people suffer, why bad people prosper, and all the messy in-betweens. Why does God ordain both good and evil? Why the seemingly random distribution of joy and sorrow? This is a question that has plagued humanity for millennia, hasn't it?

The story goes that Moses dared to voice these desires during a moment of God's wrath. Bold move, Moses! God, in His infinite patience, told Moses to wait until His anger subsided. And when it did, God granted the first two wishes completely. Israel would be blessed with the Shekhinah.

But the third wish? That was only partially granted.

Instead of a direct answer, God showed Moses something extraordinary: vast treasure troves, each filled with rewards for the righteous. Imagine that! God meticulously explained each one: "This one is for those who give tzedakah (charity)," God might have said. "That one is for those who raise orphans." Each treasure was specifically designated for a particular good deed. A cosmic system of merit and reward.

Then, they came to a treasure trove unlike any other. It was gigantic, dwarfing all the rest. Moses, naturally curious, asked, "For whom is this treasure?"

And God's answer? It’s breathtaking.

"Out of the treasures that I have shown thee," God explained, "I give rewards to those who have deserved them by their deeds; but out of this treasure do I give to those who are not deserving, for I am gracious to those also who may lay no claim to My graciousness, and I am bountiful to those who are not deserving of My bounty."

Wow.

This treasure isn't for those who earned it. It's for those who didn't. It's a evidence of God's unearned grace, His boundless mercy. It speaks to a divine generosity that extends beyond our understanding of fairness or justice.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Is there a comfort in knowing that even when we fall short, when we don't deserve it, there’s still a place for grace? Perhaps that's the part of God's ways Moses was meant to understand. Not the neat and tidy explanations, but the boundless, often inexplicable, wellspring of divine compassion.

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Legends of the Jews 2:88Legends of the Jews

Legends of the Jews turns to Moses and the Torah of Thou.

It all starts when Moses witnesses God writing the attribute of "long-suffering" – in Hebrew, erekh apayim – into the Torah. Now, erekh apayim literally means "slow to anger," and it speaks to God's patience. Moses, ever the inquisitive one, asks God, "Does this mean you're patient with the righteous?"

God's response? "Not only the righteous, but even with sinners am I long-suffering."

Whoa. Now, Moses isn't too happy about this. He basically throws his hands up and says, "What?! Let the sinners perish!" A bit harsh. God, in His infinite wisdom, doesn’t respond immediately. The moment passes.

Then comes the infamous episode of the Golden Calf. The Israelites have gravely sinned, and Moses finds himself pleading with God for mercy. He's begging God to forgive the people. And what does God say?

This is where it gets interesting.

God essentially throws Moses' earlier words right back at him. "You yourself advised Me to have no patience with sinners, to destroy them!" Ouch. Talk about a cosmic "I told you so!"

But Moses, ever resourceful, doesn't back down. He reminds God of His own words, the very attribute He inscribed in the Torah: "Yea," Moses says, "but Thou didst declare that Thou art long-suffering with sinners also, let now the patience of the Lord be great as Thou has spoken."

In other words, Moses is holding God to His own standard, reminding Him of His promise of erekh apayim. "You said you are slow to anger, so be slow to anger now!"

It's a powerful moment. It highlights not only God's attributes, but also the complex relationship between God and Moses. It's a relationship built on respect, on argument, and ultimately, on a shared commitment to justice and mercy.

What does this story tell us? Perhaps that even our most well-intentioned advice can have unintended consequences. Or maybe it's a reminder that God's attributes are not just abstract concepts, but rather a living, breathing promise. And sometimes, we need to remind even God of His own promises.

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Legends of the Jews 4:113Legends of the Jews

Moses knew something profound. He understood that, more than anything else, God valued mercy. Remember the story of the Golden Calf? When the Israelites went completely astray, Moses pleaded with God. He actually asked, "Tell me, what attribute do you use to rule the world?" And God's answer? "Loving-kindness, mercy, and long-suffering."

Moses, ever the sharp negotiator, wasn’t quite satisfied. He pressed further. "Does your long-suffering mean that sinners get off scot-free?" According to Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, that question went unanswered at the time.

Fast forward, and here we are again. Israel's in trouble. And Moses, remembering that earlier exchange, decides to call in a marker. He basically says, "Okay, God, remember what you told me back then? Justice demands the destruction of Israel, sure, but my prayer for mercy balances the scales. Let's see what happens."

Think about the audacity! The sheer chutzpah! But also the deep, unwavering faith.

And what was God's response? It's "As truly as you live, Moses," God says, "your prayer will tip the scales toward mercy. For your sake, I will cancel my decision to wipe out the children of Israel. The Egyptians will be amazed, saying, 'Happy is the servant whose master defers to his wish!'"

Wow. Imagine that kind of influence!

But, and there's always a "but," God adds, "I will collect my debt." According to the Torah, and as we see reflected in places like Midrash Rabbah, divine justice, even when tempered by mercy, still requires accountability. So, while Israel wouldn’t be annihilated all at once, they would pay the price, bit by bit, over the next forty years.

"Your carcasses shall fall in this wilderness," God declares. "And all of you, from twenty years old and upward, who have murmured against Me, your children will wander in the wilderness for forty years, bearing the consequences of your unfaithfulness, until your bodies are consumed."

So, what does this all mean? It's a powerful reminder that even in the face of divine judgment, mercy can prevail. But it also highlights the importance of taking responsibility for our actions. Even with the most powerful advocate imaginable – Moses himself – consequences still follow. It’s a complex dance between justice and compassion, a dance that continues to shape the Jewish story – and perhaps our own lives – to this day.

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Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah 82:8Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah

Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah turns to Hidden Wisdom of Moses.

The Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, a profoundly esoteric text, explores the very roots of souls and their connection to the divine. It paints a picture of a complex spiritual hierarchy, a layered reality where our understanding is often limited. Imagine a cosmic government, if you will. According to the Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah, it has two orders: one concealed, hidden deep within the "Unknown Head," and another revealed, the realm of Atzilut (the World of Emanation), often translated as "Emanation."

Where do souls fit into all of this? Well, just like the government, they have roots in both the hidden and the revealed. Initially, souls are nestled in that hidden level, a place beyond our grasp. Only later do they enter and take root in the revealed order of Atzilut.

Here's where things get interesting. Why this two-stage process? Why the initial concealment? The text itself hints at a profound mystery, suggesting that there’s no immediately "valid reason" for it. It's a puzzle.

This brings us back to the age-old question of suffering. Moses himself, the greatest prophet, struggled with the injustice of the righteous suffering. He saw the pain and cried out to God. And how did God respond? With the now-famous words, "I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious" (Exodus 33:19). As Berachot 7a tells us, this implies that even if someone appears unworthy of grace, it can still be bestowed. Even Moses, face-to-face with the Divine, couldn't fully grasp the reasons behind suffering. And God's answer… it isn't exactly a clear explanation, is it?

The Kalach Pitchei Chokhmah suggests that the answer lies in that hidden connection, that initial rooting of souls in the concealed order. According to their root in Atzilut alone, the suffering might seem undeserved. But the deeper truth, the text implies, is that the root of this mystery lies in that hidden connection.

It’s like looking at the tip of an iceberg and trying to understand its size and shape. You only see a fraction of the whole. What lies beneath the surface, in the hidden depths, is far more vast and complex.

So, what does this mean for us? Perhaps it means accepting that some things are simply beyond our comprehension. Maybe it means trusting that there's a deeper order at play, even when we can't see it. It reminds us that our understanding is limited, and that faith sometimes requires embracing the unknown.

Perhaps the suffering of the righteous isn't a cosmic error, but a thread woven into a story far too intricate for us to fully perceive. a story where the hidden and the revealed, the known and the unknown, are inextricably linked. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

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Legends of the Jews 10:36Legends of the Jews

“the sound of their grief pierced to the very heavens.” It paints a vivid picture of despair.

Where is Moses, their leader, during all this? He’s gone to plead with the Avot, the Patriarchs – Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Moses returns to these ancestral figures, bearing witness to the horrors faced by the exiled Jews. And what happens? They, too, are overcome with sorrow, joining in the chorus of woe.

It's a powerful image, this chain of grief stretching from earth to heaven, from the present generation back to the very roots of the Jewish people. But it's Moses's personal anguish that really grabs you. He cries out, cursing the sun! "Be cursed, O sun," he exclaims, "why was not thy light extinguished in the hour in which the enemy invaded the sanctuary?"

Think about the audacity of that statement. Cursing the sun, the source of all light and life! But it shows the depth of his pain, his feeling of abandonment.

And the sun… it answers him! The sun replies, defending itself. "O faithful shepherd, I sware by the life, I could not grow dark. The heavenly powers would not permit it. Sixty fiery scourges they dealt me, and they said, 'Go and let thy light shine forth.'" According to this version, the sun was forced to shine, even amidst the darkness, highlighting the idea that even celestial bodies are subject to a higher power, and perhaps even to a divine plan beyond our comprehension.

Did the sun want to go dark? The story leaves that hanging.

But Moses isn’t done. He has one last, agonizing complaint, this time directed to God himself. "O Lord of the world," he cries, "Thou hast written it in Thy Torah: 'And whether it be cow or ewe, ye shall not kill it and her young both in one day.' How many mothers have they slaughtered with their children and Thou art silent!" (The source for this is found in Legends of the Jews.)

This is a direct challenge to divine justice. How can a God who commands compassion even towards animals allow such unspeakable cruelty to human beings, mothers and children, no less? The contrast between the divine law and the reality of suffering is stark and deeply unsettling.

It's a question that echoes through the ages. How do we reconcile faith with suffering? How do we maintain hope in the face of despair? These stories, these legends, don't offer easy answers. But they do offer a space to confront these questions, to voice our pain, and to remember that even in the darkest of times, the cries of the Jewish people. And their leaders, have always pierced the heavens.

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