The italicized text below was extracted from Wiesel’s articles at BAR. Go to those articles using the links in the titles below.
Elie Wiesel is a world-renowned author, Nobel laureate and frequent Bible Review contributor. He is most well known for his writing of his Holocaust experiences in Night (1960).
Korah
This is not the first time that the people, only recently freed from the Egyptian yoke, have manifested their impatience and their ingratitude. In the midst of the most grandiose adventure of all time, they have not yet succeeded in detaching themselves from their old habits, their narrowness, their petty concerns. They complain: The water is too bitter, the food too little, the walk in the desert too strenuous. And the sad affair of the “scouts” (Numbers 13). And that of the golden calf (Exodus 32). In what way, then, does this episode differ, given that it is no worse than so many others? In the other cases, Moses intercedes with the Lord and begs him to pardon his people, who have gone astray. Here, too, Moses steps in, but not in the same manner. All he and his older brother, Aaron, can say is, “If an individual commits a sin, is this reason to become angry with the whole community?” (Numbers 16:22). That is all. No supplication or false threats, as elsewhere. In fact, Moses accepts the divine verdict. The reason? Is it because this time, unlike the others, the insurrection is led against him personally? Possibly. But there is something else. Before, the recriminations came mostly from the populace. Now, it is the elite that leads the attack. And Korah is at its head.
Seth
Suddenly, without minding the non sequitur, the text informs us that Adam returned to his wife, knew her, and she gave birth to a son whom she named Seth: “because God has granted me a new future in place of Abel, killed by Cain” (Genesis 4:25). Then, in the next verse, the text tells us, “To Seth also, a son is born, and he named him Enosh. At that time people began to evoke the name of the Lord.” There it is, almost everything that we know of Seth: Contrary to biblical custom, it is he and not his spouse who gives the name Enosh to their son.
The Israelites
Forty-nine days after the Exodus from Egypt, the Hebrews reach the Sinai Desert. The former slaves are exhausted and, especially, restless: They are going to finally meet God, the God of Israel. The setting is dramatic. Moses watches over every detail. The tension mounts hour by hour. Exhortations are filled with grandeur, even mystery. At the foot of Mount Sinai—neither too high nor too wild a mountain—the people strain to collect themselves and their thoughts. Moses climbs up to receive the last instructions; he comes down carrying the divine words.
Eldad and Medad
Those two—we know their names, but who are they? From what family? From what tribe? Are they brothers, accomplices? We imagine them always set apart, alone—and young. Audacious and lucky. The old men’s prophecies addressed only the next day, while those of Eldad and Medad foresaw the distant future. The midrash is specific on that. According to one source, they foresaw the battle of Gog and Magog (see Ezekiel 38–39); according to others, the death of Moses and the entry of his successor, Joshua, into the Holy Land. Better: The midrash states that contrary to the prophecy of the other elders, which was temporary, of short duration and received from Moses, that of Eldad and Medad was permanent and issued from God Himself.
It is not surprising that they aroused envy. A certain zealous man (the midrash identifies him as Gershom, Moses’ son) came to alert the leader in person: “Eldad and Medad are going around prophesying in the camp!” The immediate reaction from Joshua, the nearest and most faithful of Moses’ servants: “Lock them up!”
And there we find a new dimension to Moses’ greatness. The denunciation of Eldad and Medad does not faze him. On the contrary, it seems to please him. “What,” he says to Joshua, “do you wish to protect my position? Would that the entire nation were prophets.” Moses has no fear of competition.
Joshua
Joshua, the perfect disciple. Obedient and humble. The man whose devotion to his master can serve as an example to all. God’s chosen, just as Moses had been. The servant become leader, whom God and Moses do not cease to encourage—so much so that we wonder why he had such a need. Is it because, in his humility, Joshua felt so inferior to Moses that he believed himself inadequate, unqualified and even unworthy to complete a task that only his master was capable of completing satisfactorily? Joshua will inherit political and religious authority from Moses but not his prophetic style.
Aaron – The teflon kid
He is a man of peace. He succeeds at everything. Everyone admires, even loves him. Whether great or small, they need him, his understanding and his mediation. Whatever he does, he is well regarded. But is it possible that Aaron is without fault? Like all biblical characters, he must be imperfect. He too has his moments of weakness and his crises. But in those he is forgiven. His younger brother Moses must overcome obstacles and dangers. More than once, Moses’ life has been threatened and his reputation questioned. But not Aaron, who passes through difficulties unscathed.
Aaron’s balance sheet is not completely clean. At least two disconcerting episodes cast a shadow over his life. If the first arises out of his public persona, the second is strictly personal.
The first is linked to the golden calf. That Aaron played an important role in this episode is clearly indicated in the text. True, the idea of making the golden calf comes from the people, but it is Aaron who gives it life. It is Aaron who collects the golden jewelry; it is he who builds the altar and lights the flame; it is he who makes the idol. Aaron even goes so far as to invite the idolatrous masses to a feast the next day. To celebrate what? The birth of a new god? Or a new faith? “Chag la adoshem machar,” he cries. “Tomorrow is a feast unto the Lord.” Has he forgotten the Law that the Lord gave to the people of Israel gathered at the foot of Mount Sinai? Has he forgotten his brother, who ascended to the heavens to receive it in the name of this very people? … God condemns the entire people of Israel, but silently passes over the fact that it is the high priest himself who has fashioned—with his own hands—this idol.
The second episode is no less troubling. It concerns the malicious words Aaron and his sister Miriam direct against Moses. They seem to reproach him for his superiority over them—and also for his marriage to a black woman, a non-Jew, a “Cushite” (Numbers 12). God judged it necessary to reprimand them, and to punish Miriam—her skin becomes white with leprosy (Numbers 12:10). There again, we cannot understand the divine attitude toward this “first family” of the Jewish people: If Miriam was guilty, so was Aaron. But he was not punished. Here again, the Midrash moves heaven and earth to explain this divine inequity.
Jethro
On first reading the biblical text, Jethro seems a simple person, almost monolithic, someone who impresses us most as a family man. When he meets a young refugee, Moses, whom he believes to be Egyptian, he thinks immediately of his daughter Zipporah, who is not yet married (Exodus 2:20–21). Later, when Moses, who is now Jethro’s son-in-law, returns from Egypt at the head of his freed people, Jethro brings to him his wife, Zipporah, and their two children (Exodus 18:5).
Moses has in the meantime become powerful and famous, and Jethro gives him useful advice on how to govern (Exodus 18:17ff). Invited by Moses to join the newly created nation, Jethro gracefully declines by invoking his obligations to his own family and tribe in the land of Midian (Numbers 10:29–30).
One can see Jethro clearly: His demeanor is surely elegant, sincere, irreproachable. He is present only when needed. He speaks only when asked. Everything he does, he does without guile. He never thinks of taking advantage of his position as first counselor to the great leader Moses. No one would ever accuse him of nepotism.
Esau
At the risk of shocking my reader, I feel compelled to reveal my sympathy for a character that the Bible seems to treat rather badly. I am talking about Esau, the elder brother of Jacob. I feel sorry for him. I imagine him alone, always alone, bitter and unhappy. Except for his old father, blind and powerless, no one loves him. And his mother less than the rest of the world. Her mistrust of him is mixed with dislike. We can imagine her plotting against him. It is not surprising that Esau is rarely at home; perhaps he feels like an intruder there. The fields and forests are his kingdom.
Cain & Abel
Cain and Abel: The first two brothers of the first family in history. The only brothers in the world. The saddest, the most tragic. Why do they hold such an important place in our collective memory, which the Bible represents for so many of us? Mean, ugly, immoral, oppressive—their story disturbs and frightens. It haunted mankind then and still does, working its way into our nightmares.
At first we become attached to Cain. He shares with his younger brother, Abel, the generous idea of offering gifts to the Lord. But for this, Abel might never have felt the need to do the same. For reasons the text does not bother to explain, however, God accepts the gift from Abel after refusing the gift from Cain.
An unjust Creator of the World? Already? How can we understand this favoritism? What did Abel do so great, beautiful or praiseworthy as to merit the divine sympathy denied to his brother? Cain, innocent victim of unprecedented heavenly discrimination—how can we not wonder about his fate?
The Serpent
In the story of creation, the Serpent stands out because of his talent to deceive. He is talkative. And active. His role is unquestionably significant. If he were not there to fulfill his seductive mission, the human adventure would have stopped with the first couple. So why was he punished?
Let’s look at the tale. Adam and Eve are in Paradise, where God Himself is their guide. He shows them the rivers, the gardens: They have everything they need to be happy. Furthermore, he gives them a particular privilege that makes them human. They have freedom of choice when faced with the forbidden. The two trees—the one that gives life and the one that gives knowledge—are there to intrigue them. And to force them into making choices: They can obey His wishes and live forever—or disobey and die.
