And it plays out in a beautiful way in the story of Moses.
According to Ginzberg’s retelling in Legends of the Jews, Moses, ever humble, believed his work was done once the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, was built. He figured, "Okay, Israel now has a place to connect spiritually; they don't need me anymore." Can you imagine? After leading them out of Egypt, receiving the Torah, and guiding them through the desert!
But God, of course, had other plans. God says to Moses, in essence, "Hold on! You're not off the hook yet. I have an even greater task for you.” And what was this great task? To teach the Israelites about what is tahor (clean) and tamei (unclean), and how to bring offerings.
Now, the text says that God called Moses to the Tabernacle to reveal these laws. But Moses, in his immense humility, didn't even dare to enter! God actually had to summon him. Even then, Moses wouldn't go in while a cloud was hovering over it. Why? Because, according to the text, the cloud indicated that "the demons held sway." He waited patiently until the cloud dissipated. It’s a powerful image, isn’t it? This towering figure of leadership, still so deeply reverent and cautious.
The voice that called Moses, we're told, came from heaven like a tube of fire, settling over the two Cherubim (cherubic angels). And this voice? It was just as powerful as the revelation at Sinai! Imagine the sheer force of it – so intense that, as the text says, the souls of all Israel nearly escaped in terror! Yet, incredibly, only Moses could hear it. Not even the angels could perceive God's direct words; they were meant solely for Moses. Aaron, too, only received God's commands through Moses, except for three specific instances where God revealed Himself directly.
How did God address Moses? With tenderness and care. God would call Moses' name twice, caressingly, and when Moses responded with "Hineni – Here I am," then God's words were revealed, each commandment a special, individual revelation. And here’s another beautiful detail: God always allowed a pause between each law, so Moses could fully grasp what he was being told. It wasn't a rushed download of information, but a deliberate, thoughtful transmission.
What does this all tell us? Perhaps it’s a reminder that true leadership isn't about seeking power or recognition, but about humility, reverence, and a willingness to serve even when we think our work is done. And maybe, just maybe, it’s also a testament to the profound intimacy between God and Moses – a relationship built on trust, respect, and a shared commitment to guiding the Jewish people. It makes you wonder, doesn't it: what "greater task" might be waiting for us, just beyond our own perceived limits?