According to Jewish tradition, the consequences can be…well, let's just say they can be pretty intense.
We’re diving into a story from Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg, a masterful compilation of rabbinic lore. It centers on Miriam, Moses' sister, and her brother Aaron, the High Priest. They found themselves in hot water after speaking critically of Moses. The Torah tells us (Numbers 12) that Miriam and Aaron questioned Moses’ marriage to a Cushite woman. But the Legends offer a deeper, more nuanced understanding.
Here’s the thing: God doesn't immediately unleash divine wrath. Instead, He gently rebukes Aaron and Miriam, showing them the error of their ways. Ginzberg points out that this serves as a profound lesson: never show anger before first explaining the reason for it. A good reminder for all of us, right?
The effects of God's displeasure manifest swiftly after His presence departs. While He was with them, His mercy tempered His anger. But the moment He left, punishment arrived: both Aaron and Miriam were afflicted with tzara'at, often translated as leprosy. According to tradition, this was the ordained punishment for speaking ill of others. Ouch.
But here’s where it gets interesting. Aaron's leprosy was fleeting, lasting only a moment. Why? Because his sin wasn't as great as Miriam's; she was considered the instigator of the criticism against Moses. His disease vanished as soon as he looked upon his own affliction.
Miriam's situation was different. Aaron, in his distress, tried to use his own experience to heal her, attempting to direct his gaze upon her leprosy. But instead of healing, it only worsened her condition. The text tells us that looking at her leprosy increased it. Imagine the horror and helplessness.
Now, completely humbled, Aaron turns to Moses, pleading for his sister. His words are incredibly moving: "Think not that the leprosy is on Miriam's body only, it is as if it were on the body of our father Amram, of whose flesh and blood she is." He doesn't try to excuse their behavior or diminish their sin. He admits they acted unnaturally towards their brother, forgetting themselves for a moment.
Aaron then launches into a heartfelt appeal. "Have we, Miriam and I, ever done harm to a human being?" When Moses answers no, he continues, "If we have done evil to no strange people, how then canst thou believe that we wished to harm thee?"
He lays bare the potential consequences of Miriam's affliction. He reminds Moses that only a priest unrelated to the leper by blood can declare them clean. But all the priests, including Aaron and his sons, are Miriam's relatives. If her leprosy doesn't vanish, she's doomed to spend her life as an outcast. He describes the life of a leper as being akin to death itself, for as a corpse makes unclean all that it touches, so too does the leper.
And then, the final, heart-wrenching plea: "Shall our sister, who was with us in Egypt, who with us intoned the song at the Red Sea, who took upon herself the instruction of the women while we instructed the men, shall she now, while we are about to leave the desert and enter the promised land, sit shut out from the camp?"
Think about the weight of that question. Miriam, a leader, a prophetess, a vital part of their journey since the very beginning, now facing isolation and exclusion. It's a powerful image. Moses, of course, responds to Aaron's plea and intercedes with God on Miriam's behalf.
This story, found within the larger narrative of the Exodus, offers us more than just a cautionary tale about gossip. It's a story about the consequences of our words, the importance of empathy, and the power of forgiveness. It reminds us that even those closest to us can stumble, and that compassion and understanding are essential, especially when dealing with those who have erred. It also speaks to the vital role women played in early Jewish history. Miriam wasn't just Moses' sister; she was a leader in her own right. This narrative, while highlighting her mistake, also implicitly acknowledges her importance and contributions.
So, the next time you feel the urge to speak critically of someone, remember Miriam. Remember the power of words, and the potential for both harm and healing that they hold.