¹Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses about the Cushite woman he had married, for he had married a Cushite woman. ²They said, “Has God spoken only through Moses? Has God not spoken through us as well?” God heard it. ³Now Moses was a very humble man, more so than any other man on earth.

⁴Suddenly God called to Moses, Aaron, and Miriam, “Come out, you three, to the Tent of Meeting.” So the three of them went out. ⁵God came down in a pillar of cloud, stopped at the entrance of the Tent, and called out, “Aaron and Miriam!” The two of them came forward; ⁶and God said, “Hear these My words: When a prophet of God arises among you, I make Myself known to him in a vision, I speak with him in a dream. ⁷Not so with My servant Moses; he is trusted throughout My household. ⁸With him I speak mouth to mouth, plainly and not in riddles, and he beholds the likeness of God. How then did you not shrink from speaking against My servant Moses!” ⁹Still incensed with them, God departed. ¹⁰As the cloud withdrew from the Tent, there was Miriam stricken with snow-white scales! When Aaron turned toward Miriam, he saw that she was stricken with scales. ¹¹And Aaron said to Moses, “O my lord, account not to us the sin which we committed in our folly. ¹²Let her not be as one dead, who emerges from his mother’s womb with half his flesh eaten away.” ¹³So Moses cried out to God, saying, “O God, pray heal her!”

¹⁴But God said to Moses, “If her father spat in her face, would she not bear her shame for seven days? Let her be shut out of camp for seven days, and then let her be readmitted.” ¹⁵So Miriam was shut out of camp seven days; and the people did not march on until Miriam was readmitted.

Translation: JPS, edited

במדבר יב

¹וַתְּדַבֵּר מִרְיָם וְאַהֲרֹן בְּמֹשֶׁה עַל־אֹדוֹת הָאִשָּׁה הַכֻּשִׁית אֲשֶׁר לָקָח כִּי־אִשָּׁה כֻשִׁית לָקָח׃ ²וַיֹּאמְרוּ הֲרַק אַךְ־בְּמֹשֶׁה דִּבֶּר יְהוָה הֲלֹא גַּם־בָּנוּ דִבֵּר וַיִּשְׁמַע יְהוָה׃ ³וְהָאִישׁ מֹשֶׁה ענו [עָנָיו] מְאֹד מִכֹּל הָאָדָם אֲשֶׁר עַל־פְּנֵי הָאֲדָמָה׃

⁴וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה פִּתְאֹם אֶל־מֹשֶׁה וְאֶל־אַהֲרֹן וְאֶל־מִרְיָם צְאוּ שְׁלָשְׁתְּכֶם אֶל־אֹהֶל מוֹעֵד וַיֵּצְאוּ שְׁלָשְׁתָּם׃ ⁵וַיֵּרֶד יְהוָה בְּעַמּוּד עָנָן וַיַּעֲמֹד פֶּתַח הָאֹהֶל וַיִּקְרָא אַהֲרֹן וּמִרְיָם וַיֵּצְאוּ שְׁנֵיהֶם׃ ⁶וַיֹּאמֶר שִׁמְעוּ־נָא דְבָרָי אִם־יִהְיֶה נְבִיאֲכֶם יְהוָה בַּמַּרְאָה אֵלָיו אֶתְוַדָּע בַּחֲלוֹם אֲדַבֶּר־בּוֹ׃ ⁷לֹא־כֵן עַבְדִּי מֹשֶׁה בְּכָל־בֵּיתִי נֶאֱמָן הוּא׃ ⁸פֶּה אֶל־פֶּה אֲדַבֶּר־בּוֹ וּמַרְאֶה וְלֹא בְחִידֹת וּתְמֻנַת יְהוָה יַבִּיט וּמַדּוּעַ לֹא יְרֵאתֶם לְדַבֵּר בְּעַבְדִּי בְמֹשֶׁה׃ ⁹וַיִּחַר אַף יְהוָה בָּם וַיֵּלַךְ׃ ¹⁰וְהֶעָנָן סָר מֵעַל הָאֹהֶל וְהִנֵּה מִרְיָם מְצֹרַעַת כַּשָּׁלֶג וַיִּפֶן אַהֲרֹן אֶל־מִרְיָם וְהִנֵּה מְצֹרָעַת׃ ¹¹וַיֹּאמֶר אַהֲרֹן אֶל־מֹשֶׁה בִּי אֲדֹנִי אַל־נָא תָשֵׁת עָלֵינוּ חַטָּאת אֲשֶׁר נוֹאַלְנוּ וַאֲשֶׁר חָטָאנוּ׃ ¹²אַל־נָא תְהִי כַּמֵּת אֲשֶׁר בְּצֵאתוֹ מֵרֶחֶם אִמּוֹ וַיֵּאָכֵל חֲצִי בְשָׂרוֹ׃ ¹³וַיִּצְעַק מֹשֶׁה אֶל־יְהוָה לֵאמֹר אֵל נָא רְפָא נָא לָהּ׃

¹⁴וַיֹּאמֶר יְהוָה אֶל־מֹשֶׁה וְאָבִיהָ יָרֹק יָרַק בְּפָנֶיהָ הֲלֹא תִכָּלֵם שִׁבְעַת יָמִים תִּסָּגֵר שִׁבְעַת יָמִים מִחוּץ לַמַּחֲנֶה וְאַחַר תֵּאָסֵף׃ ¹⁵וַתִּסָּגֵר מִרְיָם מִחוּץ לַמַּחֲנֶה שִׁבְעַת יָמִים וְהָעָם לֹא נָסַע עַד־הֵאָסֵף מִרְיָם׃

1. What are the most compelling questions that arise as you read this text?
2. Can you think of a modern story (from your life, or from film or literature) where a contemporary person’s experience echoes Miriam’s in some way?
3. How might Miriam’s experience of being “shut out of the camp seven days” impact her sense of self? How might it affect her relationship to God, Moses, and her community?

Well my mother named me bitter
Although as a child I was so kind
Hiding myself in the trees to watch over my brother

But still my name was bitter
Bitter the taste of the sea
Bitter the cries of the horses drowning behind us

If anybody had asked me
I might not have chosen to go
But everyone knows
Sometimes you don't have a choice

So when he said You’re banished, Seven days in the desert alone
I just started walking
I knew there was nothing to say

The scorpions and the spiders
Crawled up to me and stopped in my shade
Together in silence we watched
As the sun crossed the sky

And if your father spit in your face
Wouldn’t you want to leave that place
And if your skin should turn to snow
Wouldn’t you have to go
And if your God should turn from you wouldn’t you turn too.

Still I don’t regret a minute
And I don’t regret an hour
of the week that I lived all alone
at the top of the mountain

Though no voice came down from heaven
and I never saw words written in fire
I did see the birds of prey pick all the carcasses clean

If anybody had asked me
I might not have chosen to go
But everyone knows
Sometimes you don’t have a choice

And if your father spit in your face
Wouldn’t you want to leave that place
And if your skin should turn to snow
Wouldn’t you have to go
And if your God should turn from you
wouldn’t you turn too.

1. Apart from the words, what does the artist convey about the emotional experience of Miriam through the music? (listen once more if that would be helpful.)
2. “If anybody had asked me / I might not have chosen to go / But everyone knows / Sometimes you don’t have a choice.” The Miriam of this interpretation is resigned; how would your Miriam respond to her leprosy and exile?

Well my mother named me bitter¹
Although as a child I was so kind
Hiding myself in the trees to watch over my brother²

But still my name was bitter
Bitter the taste of the sea³
Bitter the cries of the horses drowning behind us⁴

If anybody had asked me
I might not have chosen to go
But everyone knows
Sometimes you don't have a choice

So when he said You’re banished, Seven days in the desert alone
I just started walking
I knew there was nothing to say

The scorpions and the spiders⁵
Crawled up to me and stopped in my shade⁶
Together in silence we watched
As the sun crossed the sky

And if your father spit in your face⁷
Wouldn’t you want to leave that place⁸
And if your skin should turn to snow⁹
Wouldn’t you have to go
And if your God should turn from you wouldn’t you turn too.

Still I don’t regret a minute
And I don’t regret an hour
of the week that I lived all alone¹⁰
at the top of the mountain¹¹

Though no voice came down from heaven
and I never saw words written in fire¹²
I did see the birds of prey pick all the carcasses clean¹³

If anybody had asked me
I might not have chosen to go
But everyone knows
Sometimes you don’t have a choice (cont’d)

And if your father spit in your face
Wouldn’t you want to leave that place
And if your skin should turn to snow
Wouldn’t you have to go
And if your God should turn from you
wouldn’t you turn too.

1 The Hebrew etymology of “Miriam” can be read in various ways. One common way to interpret her name is “bitter waters,” since the first two letters, mem-resh, mean bitter (“mar”), and the last two, yud-mem, mean ocean or sea (“yam”).

2 In Exodus 2:1-10, the Torah describes Miriam, as a girl, watching over her baby brother Moses as he floats down the Nile in a basket of reeds. (Their mother has disobeyed Pharaoh’s commandment to kill all Israelite boys, but eventually can hide him no longer and sends him off down the river.) Miriam watches Pharaoh’s daughter draw Moses from the water, offers to find a Hebrew nurse for the baby, and brings him back to their mother to be nursed.

3 See #1.

4 This detail is a midrashic note of my own—building on the Torah’s description of the Israelites passing through the Sea of Reeds, and then the waters closing over Pharaoh’s army in their horse-drawn chariots of war. I couldn’t help but imagine the cries of those horses and how terrifying they must have been.

This line is partially inspired by the famous midrash in which God rebukes the angels for rejoicing in the Israelites’ safe crossing, since Egyptians were dying at that very moment:

As the Egyptians started to drown in the Red Sea, the heavenly hosts began to sing praises, but God silenced the angels, saying, “The works of my hands are drowning in the sea, and you wish to sing praises!” (Talmud, Tractate Megillah 10b)

5 People often ask me where these scorpions and spiders came from. The truth is I once met a spider in the desert who made quite an impression on me. When I was in my early twenties and studying in yeshiva in Jerusalem, I made a solo pilgrimage to the desert in the south of Israel to spend the night alone. I had no tent, just a sleeping bag. So I slept under the stars. In the middle of the night, I awoke to find myself staring at a very large black spider a couple feet from my head.

My heart was racing, but there was nothing I could do unless I wanted to keep vigil all night long. I ended up drawing a circle around my sleeping bag in hopes of some vague protection and going back to sleep. In the morning I awoke – no trace of the spider, who (since hadn’t bitten me or crawled into bed with me) now seemed like a friendly visitor instead of an antagonist.

But there are some other cool scorpion and spider sources in Judaism, too. It seems to me that these insects represent the parts of life that seem ugly, that we wish would go away. These parts actually may be the thing to save us one day. The following story is a good illustration of this idea.

The midrash tells the story of King David, one of the most intelligent men in Jewish history who as a young boy once asked for what purpose G-d created spiders on this earth. G-d answered that there would come a day when King David would need a spider and then he would thank G-d for creating the spider. Many years later, when David incurred the wrath of King Saul, and was on the run from Saul’s soldiers, David escaped into a cave to hide. He heard the soldiers near the cave and knew they would find him.

Suddenly a big spider appeared in front of the cave, and spun a web across the opening. When the soldiers came they did not look in David’s cave, because they assumed that he would have torn the web when he entered the cave. David’s life was saved by a spider, and on that day, David understood that G-d was wise, and thanked G-d for creating all creatures. Ben Sira 23B, Otzar Midrashim 47

Source: http://www.jewcology.com/resource/Parshat-Emor-Our- relationship-to-Other-Creatures

6 I liked the idea of Miriam, in her banishment, being able to provide safety and shade to these desert creatures in a way she never could have from the relative comfort of her normal life.

7 People often assume I made this up, but as you know if you just read the text, this “spitting” metaphor is straight from the Torah story, Numbers 12:14! I’m fascinated by how God uses this harsh language to describe God’s own actions, rather than making apologies or excuses.

8 Perhaps the exile, from Miriam’s perspective, was welcome—perhaps she couldn’t have just gone on as if nothing happened, and she herself needed to recover from this event as much as G-d “needed” to punish her.

9 Snow-white scales on a person’s skin is the Torah’s classic description of Biblical leprosy (which, by the way, is totally different from medical leprosy.) in this case, Numbers 12:10.

10 Numbers 12:17

11 This, and the following two lines, implicitly compare Miriam’s experience to Moses’. I find it interesting to think about them side by side: this brother-sister pair of leaders, with their shared histories, similarities and differences. Earlier in the Torah, God invites moses up to receive the Ten Commandments alone on a mountain; here, God sends Miriam away for a seven-day exile in the wilderness.

Both of them are singled out and experience isolation from the community; but Moses is invited up a mountain, drawn closer to God during that time, and given a sacred text, while Miriam is sent further away, out into the desert. What does she learn out there? Is there a Torah out there, too, a different kind of wisdom that comes from being excluded rather than invited in?

12 The Zohar, perhaps the most important book in Jewish mysticism, famously describes the letters of Torah as “black fire on white fire.”

13 I am interested in what Miriam might have learned out there in the wilderness. Sometimes I imagine her desert week as the ancient equivalent of a seven-day silent meditation retreat. As opposed to the Torah Moses received on Sinai, her wisdom would not be increased through words or specific instructions, but through observing the natural world around herself—the cycles of day and night, life and death, perhaps even sadness and joy. I like to think Miriam returned with her own Torah of solitude and maybe was able to pass that on to some of her disciples, as Moses passed down the scrolls he received on Mount Sinai. Maybe some of that wisdom can comfort us in our own times of personal moments of exile or isolation.

• Write a journal entry by Miriam during her time in the desert
• Write a letter from Miriam to someone in the story (God, Moses, Aaron, the Israelites)
• Does this story remind you of any experiences in your own life, or the lives of people you know?
• Sketch what you think Miriam looked like before, during, or after this experience
• Write a dialogue between Miriam and God, Moses or Aaron at any point during this story
• If you’re a dancer, choreograph a dance about the moment Miriam is struck with leprosy
• Write a traditional-style midrash solving one of the difficulties you found in the text
• Summarize Miriam’s story in six words