Eldad and Medad: two dreamers who make us dream. They are among the “seventy elders,” but they alone are referred to by name. The others remain anonymous. All seventy are called upon to help Moses in his sacred duties.
The fact is that Moses has had enough of the people in his charge. They push him to despair. Notwithstanding the miracle of their liberation and the crossing of the Red Sea, they do not stop bickering and complaining. Notwithstanding the manna that falls from heaven to alleviate their hunger, they yearn for the “good old days” in Egypt. Yet the heavenly manna is a gift unequaled in memory: It costs nothing and satisfies all tastes. They are ungrateful, our ancestors the Hebrews. Naturally, God is angry. As is his emissary. Moses wishes to resign. I can’t take it anymore, he says to the Lord. Too heavy the task. “If You really care about me,” he says to God, “make me die” (Numbers 11:15).
It is then that God instructs Moses to gather around him a group of elders. They will be there when He speaks to him. And the divine spirit will rest upon them. And no longer will Moses be alone to bear the heavy burden of command.
Moses complies with the divine will and assembles seventy old men and overseers, whom he names to high positions. As judges? As advisers? As executives? What distinguishes them from the rest of the population is that they have authority. They are old and know how to get people to listen and how to get things done. Scripture clearly says so.
But how and by what criteria did Moses choose them? Does age alone merit such honor? How does one determine the time at which a man becomes old? In the midrasha Moses poses the question to the Lord: “What should I do? If I take five of each of the twelve tribes, I shall have only sixty. If I take six of them, I shall have seventy-two. If I take six of some and five of others, I shall arouse jealousy among them.”
Rabbi Yehuda said: Moses put into a pouch seventy bits of paper bearing the word zaken (old man) and seventy bits of paper with nothing written on them. Thus, one had to draw an inscribed paper in order to be chosen. In other words: Chance played a role in this exercise.
Rabbi Nehemiah answered: That does not resolve the problem of jealousy, because the loser could argue that all were blank. This is how Moses put into practice the divine order, says Rabbi Nehemiah: He put into the pouch seventy bits of paper with the word zaken. And two that were blank. And if someone protested, he would be shown an inscribed one.
Now, says the midrash, there were two who protested this procedure: Eldad and Medad.
But their protest testified not to their pride, but to their humility. Instead of saying, “Why not us?” they asked “Why us?” But hema biktoubim, says the text: “They were of them that were recorded.” In other words, they were legally elected. They had inscribed papers.
But they are different because they separate themselves from the others. When the others are with Moses before the Tent of Meeting, they remain behind in camp and they prophesy. And it is because of their humility that they surpass their peers as prophets.
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.
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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. Is it because he is sure of himself and his role? Because he is so humble? The fact is that he gives the “youths” Eldad and Medad the space to assert themselves, to flourish.
But Eldad and Medad? Do they continue to prophesy? Are they criticized by their peers? The biblical text leaves us in the dark. By contrast, the midrash, more generous, describes their future for us: Of the seventy elders, they alone entered the Land of Canaan.
Without Moses.
With Joshua.
Translated from French by Martha Lipzin Hauptman.
Of the 0 elders who advised Moses, why are these two the only ones mentioned by name?
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Midrash (plural midrashim, from Hebrew for “searching for”) is a genre of rabbinic literature that includes nonliteral elaborations on the biblical text.
