He’s led the Israelites through the desert for forty years, faced down Pharaoh, received the Torah at Sinai. And now, this.
And what does Moses do? He doesn't rage against God. He doesn't despair. He turns to his nephew, Eleazar, the son of Aaron.
"O my son," Moses says, "be mindful of the days when God was angry with thy father on account of the making of the Golden Calf, and I save him through my prayer. Pray now thou to God for me, and perhaps God will take pity upon me, and let me enter into the land of Israel."
He asks Eleazar to intercede, to plead with God on his behalf. He reminds Eleazar of a time when he, Moses, had pleaded for Aaron himself after the disastrous episode of the Golden Calf. Think about the humility here. Moses, the leader, asking for help.
But here's where the story takes a dark turn. When Eleazar begins to pray, a familiar adversary appears: Samael. We know Samael as the angel of death, the accuser, the embodiment of evil.
And what does Samael do? According to Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, he stops Eleazar's mouth, preventing him from praying. He says, "How canst thou think of disregarding God's command?"
Wow.
Samael, the force of opposition, reminding someone to obey God's command! It seems completely twisted, doesn't it? It highlights the idea that even negativity can masquerade as righteousness.
Eleazar, defeated, reports back to Moses that he couldn't pray for him. Can you imagine the weight of that moment? The disappointment, the feeling of helplessness?
The story, brief as it is, leaves us with so much to ponder. Is it about the limits of even the most powerful prayers? Is it about the unyielding nature of divine decrees? Or perhaps it's a reminder that even in our most desperate moments, forces beyond our control are at play, shaping our destiny in ways we can't always understand.