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Moses's Sons Did Not Watch the Fig Tree. Joshua Did.

When God told Moses his sons would not succeed him, the reason was not wickedness. It was that they did not watch the fig tree. Joshua had watched it every day.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Two Grown Sons and a Question That Needed Answering
  2. He That Watcheth the Fig Tree
  3. What Gershom and Eliezer Had Done Instead
  4. What Moses Saw in the Vision of All the Judges

Two Grown Sons and a Question That Needed Answering

Moses had two sons, Gershom and Eliezer. By the time the succession question became urgent, they were grown men with their own histories, their own households. Their grandfather had been a priest of Midian who had come to recognize the God of Israel; their father had stood before Pharaoh, split the sea, and received the Torah at Sinai. The claim they could have made to succeed Moses was not trivial. Blood and proximity and family loyalty are the usual levers of succession, and in this family those levers were loaded with extraordinary weight.

God told Moses they would not inherit his role. The explanation God gave him is preserved in the Legends of the Jews, Louis Ginzberg's compilation published between 1909 and 1938, drawing from the Talmud Bavli's tractate Bava Batra and from the Midrash on Proverbs. It came in the form of a verse: He that watcheth the fig tree shall eat of its fruits. And then a direct statement: your sons concerned themselves little with the Torah.

He That Watcheth the Fig Tree

The verse from Proverbs 27:18 is worth sitting with. It is not about talent. It is not about bloodline or charisma or the special gifts that a son of Moses might naturally carry. It is about proximity and attention over time. The person who watches the fig tree - who is consistently present to it, who notices when it needs water and when it is ripening and what it looks like on an ordinary Tuesday with nothing dramatic happening - that person earns the fruit. Not the person who inherits the tree. Not the person most naturally gifted for agriculture. The person who watches.

Joshua had watched. The tradition's account is specific about what this looked like in practice. In the morning and in the evening he put up the benches in Moses's house of teaching and spread the carpets. He was there before it started and after it ended. He arranged the space. He set up the room. He performed the work that is invisible when done well and visible only through its absence, the work of maintaining the conditions under which learning happens, the work that demonstrates not talent or gift but devotion.

What Gershom and Eliezer Had Done Instead

The tradition does not say Moses's sons were wicked. It does not accuse them of apostasy or sin. The charge is quieter and in some ways more damning: they concerned themselves little with the Torah. They were present to other things. The fig tree of their father's teaching was there, available to them, receiving attention from Joshua every morning and evening while they were elsewhere occupied with whatever occupied them.

This is the rabbis' argument about the nature of inheritance when the inheritance is spiritual rather than material. Property passes to heirs by right. Knowledge passes to the person who was present when it was available. The bench that Joshua set up every morning was his declaration of presence: I am here, I will be here tomorrow, I will be here the morning after that. The absence of Gershom and Eliezer from that bench was their equivalent declaration, made through repetition over years, until the morning came when God told Moses that what Joshua had accumulated through consistent attention could not be transferred to sons who had not been there.

What Moses Saw in the Vision of All the Judges

The tradition records that when Moses asked God who would follow him as leader, God showed him more than Joshua. God showed him the full panorama of Israel's future: all the judges, all the prophets, every leader from Joshua through Othniel and Deborah and Gideon, through the kings and the prophets and the teachers, all the way to the resurrection of the dead. Moses saw the whole chain of what would come after him.

What God told him about these leaders was both reassuring and bittersweet. Each possessed their own unique spirit and knowledge. Each was gifted in their own way. But the synthesis that existed in Moses - the comprehensive breadth of Torah, the direct face-to-face relationship with God, the capacity to hold the entire covenant structure in a single mind - that synthesis would never be fully replicated. Each leader would have a part. The wholeness Moses carried would be distributed, spread across generations, given in portions to the many rather than complete to the one.

Moses accepted this. He accepted Joshua. He accepted the consequence of the fig-tree principle: the one who watched gets the fruit. His sons had not watched. They would not lead Israel. The arrangement was not a punishment. It was simply the accurate accounting of where the attention had gone.


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From the tradition

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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 6:87Legends of the Jews

He's approaching the end of his life, and God is telling him it's time to name a successor. But it’s not as simple as just picking someone from his own family.

As we read in Legends of the Jews, God tells Moses, "He that watcheth the fig tree shall eat of its fruits, and he that waiteth upon his master will be promoted to honor, and thy sons shall not inherit the leadership because they concerned themselves little with the Torah [the teachings and laws]." Ouch. That’s a pretty direct assessment, isn’t it? The implication is clear: leadership isn't a birthright. It's earned through dedication and service.

So, who gets the nod? Joshua. Why? Because, as God explains, Joshua "served thee with devotion and showed thee great veneration, for at morn and eve he put up the benches in thy house of teaching and spread the carpets over them; he served thee as far as he was able." It wasn’t just about intellectual prowess or charisma. It was about the humble acts of service, the consistent dedication to learning and helping.

God instructs Moses to "take then Joshua, a man such as thou didst wish as a successor, whom thou hast proven, and who knows how to deal with people of every tendency, 'and lay thy hand upon him.'" This laying on of hands wasn’t just a symbolic gesture. It was about transferring authority, empowering Joshua to lead.

But here’s a crucial detail: God tells Moses to give Joshua "an opportunity, while thou art still alive, to speak in public and to pronounce the law, so that Israel may not after thy death contemptuously say of thy successor, 'As long as his teacher was alive, he dared not pronounce judgement, and now he wishes to do so!'" In other words, Moses needs to actively prepare Joshua, give him a platform, and allow him to find his own voice before the full weight of leadership falls upon him.

Even though Joshua wasn't a member of Moses’ family, God still honors the principle that "no inheritance shall remove from one tribe to another tribe." How does that work? Well that Joshua "shall stand even before Eleazar the priest, thy brother's son, who shall ask counsel for him according to the judgement of the Urim." The Urim were oracular objects used by the priests to discern God's will. So, while Joshua takes on the mantle of leadership, the priestly line maintains a role in guiding and advising him.

What can we take away from this story? It's a nuanced picture of leadership transition. It's not just about power, but about service, mentorship, and respecting tradition while embracing change. It acknowledges the importance of both competence and character, and it reminds us that true leaders aren't just born; they are cultivated, mentored, and given the opportunity to grow. And perhaps most importantly, it reminds us that even the greatest leaders, like Moses, need to make way for the next generation. What kind of leaders are we preparing for tomorrow?

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Legends of the Jews 6:86Legends of the Jews

Moses, our great leader, actually got a glimpse of that.

In Legends of the Jews, a collection of stories compiled by Rabbi Louis Ginzberg, Moses had a special request of God. He wanted to know who would follow him, who would lead the Israelites after he was gone.

God, in His infinite generosity, didn't just name Joshua as the successor. He showed Moses a panoramic view of the future – all the judges and prophets who would guide the Jewish people, all the way to the resurrection of the dead. Can you imagine the scope of that vision?

There was a catch, a profound and somewhat bittersweet revelation. God explained that each of these leaders, from Joshua to Othniel and beyond, would possess their own unique spirit and knowledge. They would be individuals, each gifted in their own way.

However, God added, "Of all these that I have shown thee, each will have his individual spirit and his individual knowledge, but such a man as thou now wishest for thy successor, whose spirit is to embrace in itself the spirits of sixty myriads of Israel, so that he may speak to each one of them according to his understanding, such a man as this will not arise until the end of time."

Moses was asking for a leader who could connect with every single Israelite, understand their individual needs, and speak to them on their level. A leader whose spirit encompassed the entire nation. And God’s answer? That kind of leader wouldn’t appear until the very end of days.

Think about the weight of that statement. It speaks to the immense challenge of leadership, of truly understanding and connecting with a diverse community. It highlights the limitations of even the most gifted individuals.

And then comes the promise, the glimmer of hope: "The Messiah will be inspired with a spirit that in itself will embrace the spirits of all mankind."

The Messiah, the ultimate leader, the one who will finally embody that all-encompassing spirit. A spirit capable of understanding and connecting with everyone. It's a powerful vision, isn't it?

This passage, found in Ginzberg’s Legends of the Jews, isn't just about prophecy. It's about the nature of leadership, the yearning for connection, and the ultimate hope for a future where understanding and empathy prevail. It leaves you pondering: what does it truly mean to connect with one another? And what kind of spirit do we need to cultivate within ourselves to bring that future closer?

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Yalkut Shimoni on Nach 2:1Yalkut Shimoni on Nach

"And the LORD said to Joshua" (Joshua 1:1). This is what Scripture says: "He who tends a fig tree shall eat its fruit" (Proverbs 27:18). Our rabbis taught: one who sees a fig tree in a dream, his learning is preserved for him, as it is said, "He who tends a fig tree shall eat its fruit."

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