That’s the impossible situation Moses found himself in, according to Legends of the Jews.
But how do you even begin that conversation? How do you break such devastating news to someone you love?
The text tells us that Moses struggled, searching for the right words, the gentle approach. He couldn't just blurt it out. He needed to prepare his brother, Aaron.
So, Moses starts with a question, a seemingly innocent one: "Aaron, my brother, hath God given anything into thy keeping?" It's a roundabout way of getting to the point, a delicate probe into Aaron's understanding of his own mortality.
Aaron, ever the faithful servant, replies, "Yes."
"What, pray?" asks Moses, carefully.
Aaron answers, "The altar and the table upon which is the shewbread hath He given into my charge." The shewbread, or "bread of the presence," was a special offering, a symbol of God's constant provision. Aaron saw his role as a caretaker of these sacred objects.
Moses presses on, "It may be that He will now demand back from thee all that He hath given into thy keeping." He's getting closer, hinting at the impermanence of things, the temporary nature of earthly possessions.
Aaron, still not understanding, asks, "What, pray?"
Moses tries a different tack. "Hath He not entrusted a light to thee?"
Aaron, thinking literally, responds, "Not one light only but all seven of the candlestick that now burn in the sanctuary." He’s referring to the menorah, the seven-branched candelabra, a powerful symbol of divine light and presence. He sees himself as the guardian of these physical lights.
What Moses was really trying to get at, of course, was the soul. "The light of the Lord," which God had given into Aaron's keeping, and which He was now demanding back. Moses was trying to lead Aaron to understand that God was calling his soul back to Him.
But Aaron, in his "simplicity," as the text puts it, doesn’t catch the allusion. He doesn't grasp the deeper meaning behind Moses' words.
So, Moses, perhaps realizing that Aaron wasn’t going to understand the veiled message, doesn't go into further particulars. Instead, he simply remarks, "God hath with justice called thee an innocent, simple-hearted man."
It's a poignant moment, isn't it? Moses, burdened with the knowledge of his brother's impending death, and Aaron, serene in his faith, unaware of what awaits him. It leaves us wondering, is it better to know, or to remain in innocent simplicity? And what does it say about the nature of communication, especially when the stakes are so incredibly high?