The Shadow of a Flying Bird
Yizkor Sermon 5785, Rabbi Sam Cohon, Congregation Beit Simcha, Tucson, AZ
In the Deuteronomy Project class in our Adult Education Academy we are nearing the very end of the Torah. When we finish in a week or two or three we will begin a close reading of the next book of the Tanakh, Joshua—hence, The Joshua Project will be our next new class offering. But first we must finish the Torah.
So, too, in our Torah reading cycle we are now just at the end of Devarim, final book of the Torah, and on Simchat Torah we will complete that reading with Zot HaBrachah, the final portion that concludes the greatest text of our tradition. The Torah ends with the death of Moses, who climbs Mt. Nebo, just outside the border of the Promised Land, and dies at the symbolically powerful age of 120.
In Deuteronomy, God emphatically tells Moses that he cannot enter Canaan, the Promised Land, soon to become Israel, because he has transgressed against God’s direct order in the events at the waters of the Rock of Meribah. In that traumatic incident, Moses was ordered to speak to the rock to cause water to emerge and quench the Israelites’ thirst; but, frustrated and angry and, to be honest, well past his prime, Moses instead struck the rock and harshed on the fractious Israelites, calling them “rebels.” And so, after 40 years of devoted and talented leadership, in this concluding section of the Torah, Moses dies, just short of his ultimate objective. He has led the people of Israel to the Promised Land but will not be allowed to enter it.
Our Deuteronomy Project Class is a wonderful and quite vocal group, and several members of the class, especially the estimable Phillis Gold, rather vehemently objected to what they perceive to be this unjust punishment of Moses. After all that Moses has done to bring the Israelites to liberation, to help them become a covenant people and a true nation, his bringing down the Ten Commandments and establishing the foundations of Biblical law, after organizing them into a competent nation, after creating the structure for the worship of the One God, after Moses’ remarkable leadership brought them through trial and tribulation through forty years in the wilderness, now, just at the point of ultimate success, he must relinquish his position and his life and pass from the scene.
There is plenty of pathos in the Torah about this tragic end of our greatest leader. Moses complains frequently, in Deuteronomy and in the Book of Numbers, about not being allowed to enter the Promised Land, of ending his days on the wrong side of the Jordan River. But Midrashim, rabbinic interpretive legends, amplify this story considerably. Perhaps the most moving version of the midrash on the death of Moses comes from the Jews of Kurdistan.
In the Midrashic version of this ancient tale, the 120-year-old Moses, told by God that the time has come for him to die across the Jordan without entering the Promised Land, begs for a reprieve. So mighty are his prayers that God orders the gates of heaven shut against them; so desperate is Moses to remain alive and come into the land that will be Israel that he pleads with God to be allowed to do so as an animal or even a bird; according to the Yalkut Shimoni, Moses, begs God again to let him enter: “If You will not allow me to enter the Land, allow me to [enter] as a bird that flies in the air to all four corners of the earth to collect its feed, and in the evening returns to its nest—let my soul be as one of those!” But still God refuses.
Moses is so unwilling to take no for an answer that he enlists the earth, the mountains, the sea, even the sun and stars to intercede for him — all to no avail, for each confesses that they, too, will eventually disappear. God is adamant. God has given word Moses must die, and God intends to keep it.
Finally, Moses gives in and accepts his fate. Now, however, God finds that there is another problem, because none of the angels summoned to take Moses’ soul is willing to do it. Even Samael, the angel of death, is so frightened by Moses’ awesome presence that at first he trembles with fright; then, plucking up his courage, he draws his sword and advances, only to have Moses strike it from his hands and blind him with a single radiant look. “I beg you,” Moses says, turning to God, “do not hand me over to the angel of death!”
God answers, “Fear not, Moses, I will do it myself.” And in William Braude’s translation of Chaim Nachman Bialik and Yehoshua Ravnitzky’s classic Sefer ha-Aggadah, The Book of Legends, based on Deuteronomy Rabbah, it says:
“Then, from the highest heaven of heavens, the Holy One came down to take the soul of Moses, and with God the three ministering angels, Michael, Gabriel, and Zagzagel. Michael laid out his bier, Gabriel spread a fine linen cloth at his head, while Zagzagel spread it at his feet. Michael stood at one side and Gabriel at the other. Then the Holy One said to Moses, ‘Moses, close your eyes,’ and he closed his eyes. ‘Put your arms over your breast,’ and he put his arms over his breast. ‘Bring your legs together,’ and he brought his legs together. Then the Holy One summoned Moses’ soul, saying, ‘I had fixed the time of your sojourn in the body of Moses at 120 years. Now your time has come to depart. Delay not!’
“But Moses soul replied, ‘Master of the Universe, I know that You are God of all spirits and of all souls. You created me and placed me in the body of Moses 120 years ago. Is there a body in the world more pure than the body of Moses? I love him, and I do not wish to depart from him.’
“The Holy One exclaimed, ‘Depart, and I will take you up to the highest heaven of heavens, and will set you under the throne of glory, next to the cherubim and seraphim.’
“In that instant, the Holy One kissed Moses and took his soul with that kiss.” This is “death by a kiss,” mitat neshika.
But now, according to the Midrash, God also wept, saying "Who will oppose evildoers? Who will speak for me and love me as Moses did? And whom will I love as well?'" Then the angels and souls in heaven comforted God, asserting that "in death as in life, Moses is yours.'"
The Kurdistani version of this beautiful legend says that Moses soul departed his body like “the shadow of a flying bird”; it soared high, high up above, until it disappeared, reaching into the heavenly sphere, the olam elyon, and then ascending to unite with the Divine Shechinah.
And so, finally, Moses soul departs his body, at the ripe old age of 120. With all of our medical and technological advances, we know of no one who has lived much longer than that on this earth, to this day. That is why our blessing is always, “biz a hundert un tzvantzik, ad mei’ah v’esrim, may you live and be well to the age of 120.” For we wish to live like Moses did, although perhaps with less tzoris from those we try to lead…
But this image of his death also remains with us: Moses’ soul, liberated with a Divine kiss, soaring off to heaven like the shadow of a flying bird. It is a beautiful vision; if there is such a thing as a good death, surely this is it.
My friends, I don’t know who you personally mourn today, in our Yizkor service. For many it is a father or mother, a sister or brother, a wife or a husband; for many it is a grandparent, a zaidie or a bubbie, an uncle or aunt or cousin. For some, tragically, it is a child or grandchild, taken before their time. For others, a close, beloved friend or teacher. This year, we all mourn those murdered in Israel, and who have died in the war those murders created.
We mourn, and in our El Malei Rachamim prayer we ask that their souls be filled with eternal life. We do know that when we die, our souls depart our bodies.
Ah, but my friends, we don’t truly know how our souls leave our bodies. We don’t know if God takes them with a kiss, if they fly on wings of the breath of being to the heights of heaven. We don’t know if they have the appearance of the shadow of a flying bird. But we do feel that something continues, forever, of the lives they lived, the love they gave and received, the memories and the goodness they brought to our own souls.
In this Yizkor service, may we each be comforted, as the prayer has it, under the wind of the wings of the Shechinah, with this image of their souls flying free, unfettered, untroubled by pain or conflict or struggle. May we find comfort in these images; and may their memories bring only blessing.