The Torah tells us about Aaron, the High Priest, and it paints a pretty clear picture. It wasn't just his position, but his character that earned him such profound respect and affection.
When Aaron died, the Israelites mourned him deeply—even more than they mourned for Moses later on. According to Legends of the Jews, when Israel saw the funeral rites prepared by God and the angels themselves for Aaron, they instituted a thirty-day period of mourning. All of Israel participated: men, women, adults, and children. But why such an outpouring of grief? It wasn't just because they were copying the Divine mourning, or because Moses and Eleazar had arranged ceremonies. No, it was something far more profound.
You see, the people genuinely loved Aaron. They felt his loss keenly. But why more than Moses? After all, Moses was the leader, the lawgiver! The difference, it seems, lay in how they interacted with the people. Moses, as a judge, had to administer justice. He had to make difficult decisions, and inevitably, that created enemies. As Ginzberg recounts in Legends of the Jews, some people couldn't forgive Moses for judgments against them. Moreover, sometimes Moses was severe when confronting Israel with their sins.
But Aaron? Aaron was different. Pirkei Avot (1:12) tells us that he "loved peace and pursued peace, loved men and brought them near to the Torah.” He was a peacemaker, a unifier. He was approachable. He didn't let his status get in the way of connecting with people, even the lowliest.
In fact, he made it a point to greet everyone first, even those he knew were wicked or godless. Think about that for a moment. How many of us would go out of our way to be kind to someone we knew was behaving badly? The angels lamented Aaron, as noted in Legends of the Jews, as one "who did turn many away from iniquity," and with good reason.
Aaron understood his role as a peacemaker in a very practical way. The Midrash Rabbah elaborates on this. If he heard of a dispute between two men, he would visit each of them separately. He'd paint a picture of the other man's remorse, saying things like, "My son, do you not know what he is doing? He beats his heart, rends his garments in grief, and says, 'Woe is me! How can I ever again look upon my companion against whom I have acted so?'" He would continue until they would forgive each other and greet each other as friends.
And if Aaron heard that a husband and wife were fighting, he'd go to the husband and say something like, "I hear you're having trouble. Before you divorce your wife, consider this: will your next wife be as good? She might throw your past failures in your face." Through his gentle persuasion, Aaron saved countless marriages from falling apart.
The impact of Aaron's kindness was so profound that many couples named their sons after him, acknowledging that his intervention had made their existence possible. According to Legends of the Jews, no less than eighty thousand youths bearing his name participated in the mourning for Aaron. Eighty thousand!
It’s a powerful reminder, isn’t it? That true leadership isn't just about power or authority, but about empathy, kindness, and a genuine desire to bring people together. Aaron's legacy isn't just as a High Priest, but as a role model for how we can all strive to be better humans, to be peacemakers in our own lives, and to leave the world a little bit brighter than we found it. What kind of legacy will we leave behind?