Miriam HaNeviah is a study in contrasts, a striking paradox of leadership without fanfare. While she is known for her far-from-passive leadership and for her merit in sustaining the nation with water for forty years, she did not seek recognition. Indeed, it is under such tension – true leadership and devotion to truth – that her greatness emerged. Her most outstanding merit, which she manifested time and again, was her unyielding emunah, faith in Hashem. She did not wait for a miracle to buttress her faith. She anticipated it as if it were already a reality.
Let us peruse a few of the seminal moments of her life to develop a better understanding of her personality. As a young child, she prophesied that the person who would lead the nation out of Egypt would be born. Her father, Amram, was the gadol ha’dor, leader of the generation. When Pharaoh issued a decree calling for the deaths of all males to be born, he divorced Yocheved, his wife. Although she was only three years old, Miriam spoke up to challenge her father’s decision, “Pharaoh’s decree is only against the boys, while your decree – not to procreate – would affect girls as well.” Amram understood the profundity of his daughter’s accusation, and he remarried Yocheved, who subsequently conceived Moshe.
Now Miriam’s prophecy could be realized. When Moshe Rabbeinu was born, however, his parents realized that they had three months to protect him before the Egyptians — who knew Yocheved was pregnant — would come to execute Pharaoh’s decree. The family proceeded to “Plan B,” placing Moshe in the water. But what about Miriam’s prophecy? Apparently, the leader she saw in a vision would have serious obstacles preventing him from surviving past birth. Miriam, however, did not give up. She was certain Moshe would somehow be saved, but she did not know how. So she stood by the reeds, waiting and watching for her young brother’s salvation, which she was certain would occur.
Next we hear Miriam encouraging the women to sing Shirah, praise, to Hashem. To express themselves appropriately, they brought out their tambourines. Where did they obtain tambourines? These were not a commodity readily found in the wilderness. Miriam was so certain of Hashem’s salvation that she encouraged the women to take along tambourines when they left Egypt.
Miriam married Calev ben Yefuneh, the leader of shevet Yehudah. He, together with with Yehoshua, attempted to prevent the other meraglim, spies, from maligning Eretz Yisrael. They were not successful. Nonetheless, they made an effort. Calev and Miriam had a son, Chur, a saintly man and perfect successor to his extraordinary parents. Indeed, when the nation created the molten golden calf, he spoke up to attempt to prevent them. He was murdered for his efforts. His bereaved mother moved on, seeking solace in her great-grandson, Betzalel, who was to be the architect of the Mishkan.
I have always wondered how Betzalel, who was well aware that his grandfather had been murdered as a result of the eigel, golden calf, could build the Mishkan, which would serve as its atonement. Reflecting upon Miriam’s roots, it makes sense. One does what is right – even if it does not sit well with his emotions. He saw the image of his grandfather’s murder; yet, he was able to create a beautiful Mishkan. His great-grandmother taught him: we grieve, move on and do what is right. Our faith in Hashem supersedes whatever feelings and misgivings we might harbor.
Miriam felt that Moshe was not acting correctly when he moved out of his tent, separating from his wife, Tziporah. Hashem viewed this as lashon hora, for which He punished her. Nonetheless, out of respect for this tzadekes, the entire nation waited for her to complete her seven days of quarantine before moving on.
During the entire forty years of the nation’s sojourn in the wilderness, they were sustained by the well of Miriam, which provided them with water until the day that she died. It was only following her passing, as the water ceased to flow, that it became apparent in whose merit the water had been sustained.
Miriam had no one to recite Kaddish for her. Chur had predeceased her. When her two brothers sat shivah for her, Hashem interrupted them, saying, “The nation is in need of water. Your personal grief cannot be expressed at the expense of the nation.”
This was the life of an ordinary woman and mother. Horav S.R. Hirsch, zl, states that Miriam represents the paradigm of womanhood. She always maintained her private status, untouched unless it was critical for someone to act appropriately. She had no accolades and garnered no attention for her achievements, even as a witness to the murder of her son who would have been her Kaddish.
Miriam lived an incredible life of devotion to Klal Yisrael. What was her secret? Emunah – profound faith that, to her, was reality. The water that sustained the nation is a perfect metaphor for describing this unique tzadekes. Water nourishes quietly, seeping beneath the surface of the ground without drawing attention to itself. So, too, Miriam’s influence is constant, life-sustaining and often unnoticed. She taught us that the greatest builders of Klal Yisrael are often those who stand out of public view – quietly sustaining, quietly believing, quietly preparing the Shirah long before it is sung. This is what true emunah is. One who believes needs nothing more, because he is connected to the Source of all giving.
Horav Meir Shapiro, zl, Lubliner Rav, traveled the world to raise awareness about the holiness of Torah and its vital importance to the enduring future of Klal Yisrael. He established Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin, comprised of the finest, most dedicated Torah scholars, who would one day disseminate Torah to the greater Jewish community. This yeshivah, which had every amenity to provide its students with worry-free (from material needs) learning, could exist only if supported by the wider Jewish community. To this end, the Rosh Yeshivah, a prolific speaker and captivating personality, spoke all over the world, making urgent appeals to sustain the Yeshivah. Yet, despite his success as a Rav and Rosh Yeshivah, money was not pouring into the Yeshivah’s coffers.
At one such event, Rav Meir spoke about the passion for Torah which earlier generations had manifested. Men studied, while their wives devoted their lives to raising their children in the spirit of Torah. He spoke with great emotion, underscoring the urgency of the yeshivah’s financial challenges and how the Torah study would ultimately change the spiritual panorama of the world. Unfortunately, his powerful message, expressed so eloquently, did not impact the audience’s wallets. The men sat like stone listening, but giving no money.
At one such meeting, he finished his oration, sat down and waited, praying that this time the responses would be more promising. He had spoken and delivered a powerful message — sadly — to no avail. Not a single hand was raised to pledge a donation. An hour passed, and something extraordinary took place. A woman descended from the women’s section and walked slowly up to the bimah. She turned to Rav Meir and said, “Rebbe, you have presented the significance of supporting Torah study so eloquently. Yet, not one man was sufficiently motivated to walk up here with a donation. Please accept my jewelry in lieu of a monetary contribution.” With that, she removed her jewelry and placed it upon the bimah. Her actions kindled a spark in the hearts of the other women, who followed suit by donating their jewelry. Their heartfelt generosity transformed the evening into a successful event.
Rebetzin Malka Toba, the wife of Rav Meir, embodied this very strength. Raised in a home of luxury, she gave everything away to support the fledgling yeshivah. She and her husband opted to live frugally. Indeed, though she had no progeny of her own, she was the true mother of the yeshivah. Her life was the yeshivah, her nachas was the Torah study of its talmidim.
