We are informed in this week’s parasha: “And the man Moses was very humble, more than any person on the face of the Earth” (Numbers 12:3). The sentence could have read, “And Moses was very humble,” but rather it states, “And the man Moses was very humble.” Why the need for the epithet “the man”?
Robert Adler notes that it is used in reference to Moses a number of other times (Exodus 11:3; 32:1), indicating that Moses is no ordinary person but operates on a different plane.
Yeshayahu Leibowitz asks: Of all the many attributes of Moses – wisdom, righteousness, might, etc. – why does the Torah focus only on his humility? Often the greater a person’s physical strength, knowledge, wisdom, or political power, the harder it is to hold on to the attribute of humility.
The Talmud says, “All of the prophets observed their prophecies through an obscure looking glass; Moses our master observed his prophecies through a clear looking glass” (Yevamot 39b). That is to say, his comprehension of God was unparalleled, placing him above all others – an easy place to lose one’s humility.
And yet, in that exalted state Moses also learned a profound lesson in humility. As Leibowitz points out, quoting Rashi commenting on our Talmudic text, “All the prophets looked through a dark glass, and thought they saw; Moses looked through a clear glass and knew he had not seen God’s face.”
In that pinnacle of moments, described as seeing God “face to face” (Exodus 33:11), Moses is reminded of a great existential limitation in life – our finiteness can never completely comprehend the infinite. If true for Moses, then even more so for us. It is a lesson that has implications beyond theology, an instruction cautioning us on the attainment, the illusion, of absolutes as represented in the quest for the infinite.
The humility of Abraham
THIS INVITES Abraham into our discussion. We find in the Talmud (Chullin 89a), “I granted greatness to Abraham, he said before God: ‘And I am but dust and ashes’ [Genesis 18:27]. I granted greatness to Moses and Aaron, yet Moses said of the two of them: ‘And what are we’” (Exodus 16:7).
Here we see the humility of Abraham compared to the humility of Moses and Aaron. In the view of the Talmud, Moses and Aaron have deeper humility than Abraham by virtue of Moses’ response. Nonetheless, the humility of Abraham is recognized. Like Moses, he had a uniquely close relationship with God.
Rav Eli Hadad of Herzog College points out, “There is no question that Maimonides greatly revered the patriarch Abraham, seeing him as the second most perfect human being in human history, after Moses.”
Moses learned in his encounters with God that he had really not seen God “face to face.” Abraham was also open to a different message than what he had prepared himself for: “They arrived at the place of which God had told him. Abraham built an altar there; he laid out the wood; he bound his son Isaac; he laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. And Abraham picked up the knife to slay his son” (Genesis 22:9-10).
And then we are told (Genesis 22:11): “Then an angel of the Lord called to him from heaven: ‘Abraham! Abraham!’”
Why does the angel need to call out twice? Because the first time, Abraham is so sure he knows what God wants from him that he has shut the rest of the world off. And so the angel must call again, and this time Abraham hears and responds, “Here I am.”
If there is a test, as we are told this is in the first sentence of this story (Genesis 22:1), then Abraham passes the test – but not when he listens to God and is ready to kill his son.
Rather, it is in that moment of fanaticism when he is so sure he knows what God wants from him and the knife is raised, ready to come down on Isaac and kill in the name of God, and Abraham is able to hear a different voice, a voice of an angel, that says, “Do not raise your hand against the boy or do anything to him” (Genesis 22:12). That is the test of humility that Abraham passes. Only by passing that test is the lineage and the future of the Jewish people preserved.
VERMONT SENATOR Kesha Ram Hinsdale, of Jewish and Hindu ancestry, talks about the need to have what she calls “cultural humility.” Meaning, our identities are extremely important to who we are and how we understand ourselves and our place in society and the world; but that vital aspect of being who we are should also be about being open to the diversity of this world, including different opinions, viewpoints, and understandings, and the pain and suffering of others.
We are all entitled to even the strongest of our beliefs and opinions. And yet, we should never be so sure of what we think that we are not open to a different voice, a different opinion, as Abraham models for us. We need passion wedded to humility.
Even the Talmud (Megillah 31a) attributes humility to God. “Rabbi Yochanan said: Wherever you find the might of the Holy One, blessed be God, you also find a reference to God’s humility adjacent to it.” We note here that God’s humility is tethered to God’s might, God’s strength.
Lord Acton famously said, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” An antidote to help mitigate that very human tendency is humility. Absolutes are a form of infinite thinking, with no room for questioning, allowing dogma, closed-mindedness, and rigidity to prevail. We are desperate these days for leaders around the world to incorporate humility with their political power.
As the prophet Micah teaches, “It was told to you, human, what is good and what the Lord demands of you – only doing justice and lovingkindness and walking humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). ■
The writer is a Reconstructionist rabbi emeritus of the Israel Congregation in Manchester Center, Vermont. He teaches at the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies at Kibbutz Ketura and at Bennington College.