The weight of that moment, the sheer magnitude of the loss... it's almost unbearable to contemplate.
According to Legends of the Jews, when Joshua heard the words of Moses, words etched in the Holy Scriptures themselves, he was utterly devastated. He tore his clothes – a traditional sign of mourning – and fell at Moses' feet. Can you picture the scene? Moses, though surely heavy with his own sorrow, tries to comfort his protégé.
But what comfort could there be? Joshua's grief pours out in a torrent of questions, a raw, visceral lament. "How canst thou comfort me," he cries, "concerning the bitter word that thou hast spoken... that thou are to depart from thy people?" It’s a powerful, heart-wrenching moment.
Think about it from Joshua's perspective. He asks, "What place will receive thee? What monument will point to thy grave? Who will dare to remove thy corpse...?" He understood that Moses' greatness transcended earthly limitations. His grave wouldn't be a simple plot of land, but the entire world. "All dying men receive a grave upon earth according to their rank, but thy grave extends from sunrise to sunset, from South to North; all the world is thy tomb."
Beyond personal grief, Joshua grapples with the daunting responsibility that now falls upon him. He pleads, "Who not, O master, shall care for this people? Who shall take pity upon them and be a guide upon their way?" He knows the enormity of leading the Israelites, providing for them, guiding them with wisdom and understanding. He knows he will now have to lead them into the land of their fathers.
He worries about practical things – providing food and water for the massive Israelite population. "How shall I provide food for them according to their wish, or drink according to their desire?" But more than that, he fears the loss of Moses' spiritual guidance. He remembers that "from the beginning they numbered sixty myriads, and now, thanks to thy prayers, they have greatly multiplied."
Joshua fears the enemies that surround them. He imagines the Amorites, emboldened by Moses' absence, plotting their attack. "Let us not set out against them," he envisions them saying, "for there is now no longer among them the many-sided, incomprehensible and sacred spirit, worthy of the Lord... the Divine prophet of all the world." They would see Moses' departure as a sign of weakness, an opportunity to strike.
And what if the Israelites themselves falter? Who will intercede on their behalf now? "If now our enemies once more transgress before the Lord," Joshua despairs, "they will have no defender to offer up prayers for them before God, as Moses had done." Moses, the great messenger, the one who constantly reminded God of His covenant with the Patriarchs.
Ultimately, Joshua's plea boils down to a single, desperate question: "But what then, O my lord Moses, will become of this people?" It's a question that echoes through the ages, a testament to Moses' irreplaceable role and the immense burden of leadership that Joshua now inherits. It’s a reminder that even the greatest leaders leave a void, and those left behind must find the strength to carry on.