This is the complex and very human story bubbling beneath the surface of Numbers 27:17, "that the congregation of the Lord will not be like a flock that has no shepherd." It's a verse that speaks to leadership, succession, and the burdens of responsibility. But Bamidbar Rabbah, specifically section 21, unpacks it with an unexpected analogy.

The Midrash presents a king who relentlessly pursues a humble orphan woman to be his wife. She refuses, again and again, feeling unworthy. But he persists, proposing seven times! Finally, she relents and marries him. Later, the king, in a fit of anger, decides to divorce her. Her plea? "I didn't seek this marriage; you sought me. If you divorce me and take another, please, don't treat her as you've treated me."

What does this have to do with Moses and Joshua? Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥmani tells us that for seven days, God essentially courted Moses, urging him to take on his world-changing mission. But Moses resisted, famously saying, "Please send by means of whom You will send" (Exodus 4:13). He even stated, "I am not a man of words, neither yesterday nor the day before, [nor since You have spoken to Your servant]" (Exodus 4:10). Those words, "yesterday nor the day before," are interpreted as representing those seven days of reluctance.

Eventually, Moses relented. He led the Israelites, performed miracles, and became the iconic figure we know. But then came the devastating decree: "You will not bring [this assembly into the land]" (Numbers 20:12).

Moses’ response, according to the Midrash, echoes the orphan woman’s plea. "Master of the universe," he says, "I didn't ask for this! 'You began to show Your servant…' (Deuteronomy 3:24). Since this is Your decree, whoever enters in my place, don't treat him as You treated me. Rather, [appoint one] 'who will take them out, and who will bring them in.'"

It’s a powerful moment of vulnerability and a plea for his successor.

God's response? “Take you Joshua, the son of Nun, a man in whom there is spirit, and lay your hand upon him” (Numbers 27:18). The Midrash highlights Moses' generosity in this transfer of power. God instructs Moses to lay "your hand" – singular – upon Joshua. But Moses, being the generous soul that he is, lays both hands on Joshua, bestowing even more of his spirit and authority. The text cleverly ties this to Proverbs 22:9, "The generous man will be blessed."

This act of generosity is further illustrated by the analogy of the king who instructs his servant to give one se'ah (a unit of measurement) of wheat to someone, but the servant gives two – one from the king and one from himself. It’s a beautiful image of exceeding expectations and giving beyond what’s required.

The Midrash then asks, why is Torah likened to a fig tree? Because unlike olive, grape or date harvests that happen all at once, figs ripen gradually. Similarly, Torah learning is a slow, continuous process – "one studies a bit today and a lot tomorrow, because it is not learned in one year and not in two years." You’ve got to keep at it.

The text also emphasizes Joshua's unique qualifications. He's "a man in whom there is spirit." Because Moses had acknowledged God as “God of the spirits” (Numbers 27:16), he sought a leader who understood how to relate to each individual according to their unique disposition. "And lay your hand upon him" is likened to kindling one lamp from another, and "You shall confer from your grandeur [upon him]" (Numbers 27:20) is like pouring from one vessel to another. The idea is that Moses isn't just handing over a title, but a piece of himself.

However, there's a crucial caveat. Even with all this transferred authority, Joshua will still "stand before Elazar the priest" (Numbers 27:21). This ensures that authority remains within the established lineage, and that no single individual becomes too powerful. As it says, "An inheritance shall not pass from one tribe to another tribe" (Numbers 36:9) – meaning the ultimate honor will always remain connected to Moses’s lineage.

So, what do we take away from this rich tapestry of stories and interpretations? Perhaps it's a reminder that leadership is a complex blend of divine calling, personal resistance, and the responsibility to nurture those who follow. It is a reminder to be generous in our own passing of the torch. And, maybe most importantly, it’s a reminder that even the greatest leaders are human, grappling with doubt, vulnerability, and the weight of expectations. Just like that reluctant orphan woman, and the leader who never asked for the job in the first place.