Yahrzeit of Aaron HaCohen z"l on Rosh Chodesh Av

 

"Let Aharon be gathered to his kin"

(Numbers 20:24)

Tammuz 4, 5786/June 19, 2026

"Let Aharon be gathered to his kin." (Numbers 20:24) So begins 

one of the Torah's most poignant descriptions: the final moments of Aharon's life on earth. 

He is brought up to Mount Hor by Moshe and Elazar, his son. HaShem tells Moshe, "Strip Aharon of his vestments and put them on his son Eleazar. There Aharon shall be gathered unto the dead. Moshe did as HaShem had commanded. They ascended Mount Hor in the sight of the whole community. Moshe stripped Aharon of his vestments and put them on his son Eleazar, and Aharon died there on the summit of the mountain. When Moshe and Eleazar came down from the mountain, the whole community knew that Aharon had breathed his last. All the house of Israel bewailed Aharon thirty days." (ibid 20:26-29)

Aharon's death is not the first of the deaths of the three siblings 

who led Israel out of Egypt. 

Miriam's death is recorded earlier in the parasha, albeit the description of her passing was quite succinct: "The children of Israel arrived in a body at the wilderness of Tzin on the first new moon, and the people stayed at Kadesh. Miriam died there and was buried there." (ibid 20:1) 

The announcement of Miriam's death comes as a shock. The brevity of the Torah's announcement of her demise reflects the brevity of life itself. We are here today, and, literally, gone tomorrow. The lesson imparted in the account of Aharon's death teaches us a more comforting lesson. Aharon dies, but his legacy lives on in his children. 

Elazar  inherits Aharon's garments and replaces Aharon as the Kohen Gadol. Want to live forever? Have children. Teach them well. 

While Miriam's death comes as a shock, the same cannot be said about the death Aharon and Moshe.  Although Moshe's death will not be described by the Torah until the conclusion of the book of Deuteronomy, both he and Aharon received their death sentence at the precise same moment:  
  
"But HaShem said to Moshe and Aharon, “Because you did not trust Me enough to affirm My sanctity in the sight of the children of Israel, therefore you shall not lead this congregation into the land that I have given them.” (ibid 20:12) While it is true that we have been forewarned about the deaths of Moshe and Aharon, the reason for HaShem's thunderously swift decision to end their time on earth does come as a shock. Yes, Moshe erred, striking the rock when he was instructed to talk to it. 

Yes, Moshe was wrong to so severely castigate the children of Israel, calling them "rebels." (ibid 20:10) But after all that Moshe has done for Israel, how can HaShem, who called Moshe "My servant Moshe; most trusted throughout My household," (ibid12:7) so summarily call it a day for Moshe? And Aharon? How was he implicated in Moshe's misstep?

Our sages have struggled with all these questions and every attempted explanation, while insightful and meaningful, ultimately come up short. We mortals simply can't see things as HaShem sees things. And as troubling as that might be at times, ultimately, it is a comfort. We live our lives, we do our best and we accept our fates. 

Perhaps the greatest comfort is what we are taught at the beginning of this week's parasha, Chukat: the commandment of the red heifer, whose ashes remove the impurity of death from the living. Every bit as incomprehensible as death itself, and quite possibly intentionally so, the carefully prepared ashes of the red heifer guarantee, not only purity for  the living, but also transmit the message that death itself is not an end. 

There is life after death. And though we do not know what awaits us in the world to come, and we are even forbidden, Maimonides teaches us, to speculate on what might await us, we nevertheless are allowed a glimmer of that divine promise through the ashes of a simple, uncomprehending cow, whose hairs happen to be red, (edom, in Hebrew), like the earth, (adamah) of which we are formed. 

If it all seems bewildering, perhaps it is meant to. Death, as is life, is G-d's decision. He decides at what moment we enter the world and He decides what moment we exit. What is up to us, and this is the most important thing in G-d's eyes, is how we live our lives, to what purpose do we dedicate our days on earth. 

By the merit of Miriam Israel was provided with fresh water all throughout her desert sojournings. When she died the well disappeared, but tradition holds that Miriam's well's final resting place is beneath the Sea of Galilee (the Kinneret), where it continues to provide life for Israel. When Aharon died, we are told that the clouds of glory which hovered over Israel and protected Israel from harm, also vanished. But those clouds of glory are most certainly found today in the skies over Israel, guarding over HaShem's children. 

And Aharon's children, to this day bless every morning the children of Israel with the priestly blessing first uttered by Aharon, as they anxiously await the moment they will be called once again to serve haShem in the Holy Temple. And every aspect of our lives, indeed, of our civilization, is imbued with the teachings of Moshe, who died with his one greatest wish, to enter into the land promised by G-d, the land to whose border he led Israel, unfulfilled. Take comfort, Moshe. We are here today by your merit.

Life, like the red heifer, is full of contradictions, of puzzles, of unanswered questions. We are told that King Solomon,the wisest man on earth, sought to understand the statute of the red heifer and threw himself into its study, only to come up empty handed. But at the end of his search Solomon did come up with this sage advice: "The end of the matter, everything having been heard, fear G-d and keep His commandments, for this is the entire man." (Ecclesiastes 12:13) And that, truly, is the answer to all our questions.