That's the situation Moses faced after the death of his sister, Miriam.
The grief was immense. The text tells us that Miriam's death plunged everyone into mourning. Moses and Aaron wept in their private spaces, while the people mourned in the streets. But something else happened – something deeply unsettling. According to Legends of the Jews, for six hours, Moses remained unaware that Miriam's well, a miraculous source of water that had sustained them in the desert, vanished with her passing.
Can you imagine the Israelites' panic? They approached Moses, their patience wearing thin. "How long will you sit here and weep?" they asked, their voices laced with desperation. Moses, understandably, responded, "Shall I not weep for my sister, who has died?" But their reply revealed a deeper crisis: "While you are weeping for one soul, weep at the same time for us all.” They were without water.
Moses, still reeling from grief, went to investigate. He found the well completely dry. A wave of frustration washed over him, and he lashed out. "Have I not told you, 'I am not able to bear you myself alone'?" he demanded, reminding them of the structure he’d put in place: "You have rulers of thousands, rulers of hundreds, rulers of fifties, and rulers of tens, princes, chiefs, elders, and magnates, let these attend to your needs!"
But the people weren't having it. As we find in Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, they insisted that the responsibility rested solely with Moses. "All rests with thee," they argued, "for it is thou who didst lead us out of Egypt and brought us unto this evil place; it is no place of seed or of figs, or of vines, or of pomegranates; neither is there any water to drink. If thou wilt give us water, it is well, if not, we shall stone thee."
Stoning. The ultimate rejection of leadership.
Overwhelmed and perhaps terrified, Moses fled to the Mishkan, the Tabernacle – that portable sanctuary that served as the dwelling place of God. He cried out, "O Lord of the world! Thy children want to stone me, and had I not escaped, they would have stoned me by now."
God's response is fascinating. "Moses, how much longer wilt thou continue to calumniate My children?" God asks, reminding him of a previous incident at Horeb. "Is it not enough that at Horeb thou didst say, 'They be ready to stone me,' whereupon I answered thee, 'Go up before them and I will see whether they stone thee or not!'" God then instructs him: "Take the rod and assemble the congregation, thou and Aaron thy brother, and speak ye unto the rock before their eyes, that it give forth its water."
What does this all mean? It's easy to focus on the miraculous elements – the well, the water from the rock. But perhaps the true miracle lies in the enduring, albeit strained, relationship between Moses and his people. It's a reminder that leadership is often a thankless task, fraught with challenges and misunderstandings. It shows us that even the greatest of leaders, like Moses, can falter, can feel overwhelmed, and can even despair. And yet, despite the accusations, despite the threat of violence, Moses remains committed to his people, and God remains committed to both. The story highlights the delicate balance between divine intervention, human agency, and the enduring need for faith, even in the face of profound loss and uncertainty. How often do we forget that even our leaders are human beings, and that we are all in this together?