The Feast of Miriam

The Story of Miriam and the Last Day of Pesah

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Seudat Miriam is a festive meal honoring the prophetess Miriam of the generation of the exodus from Egypt. Together with her two siblings, she led the people of Israel out of Egypt. As the story is told by the prophet Micah – “I brought you up from the land of Egypt, I redeemed you from the house of bondage, And I sent before you Moses, Aaron, and Miriam” (Micah 6:4). While the entire holiday of Pesah is time to celebrate these siblings and offer our gratitude, I have been part of a developing practice to dedicate a festive meal to Miriam on the final night of Pesah. For about ten years I joined my colleague Jane Kanarek in celebrating this meal in her home. While I no longer remember the precise reasons we first engaged in this practice, this essay describes the meaning it came to hold for me over the years. There are of course as many possible meanings as there are people who celebrate this seudah (festive meal), a number that will hopefully continue to grow.

The rituals of this seudah as we practiced it were simple. It is a gathering of friends over good food. In honor of the tradition that identifies Miriam as the source of the power that brought forth water for the people in their wanderings through the desert (Tosephta, Sotah 11:8) we drank clear water and clear alcoholic beverages that have the appearance of water. The people around the table offerred teachings, stories, poems and songs about and in honor of Miriam. And the more one tells about Miriam, the better.

Kos Miriam - Miriam’s Cup

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Some background:

Many hasidic communities dedicate the last meal on the last day of Pesah to the Ba’al Shem Tov (Besht). This is presented as continuation of the Besht’s annual celebration of the day he was miraculously saved from drowning in the ocean. This is a complicated salvation story (see a Breslav version of the story here) as while the Besht’s life is saved, this story also marks the definitive end of his dream to reach the land of Israel. In most versions of the story, the Besht’s journey has a clear messianic intent (see for example the Komarno’s version in Netiv Mitzvotekha, Netiv Emunah 1:9) so the celebration of the Besht’s life is intertwined with the acknowledgment (or even celebration?) of the termination of his attempt to realize a messianic dream.

Interestingly there is a late Habad tradition of referring to this meal as “Seudat Mashi’aḥ” - the Besht’s messiah meal (the earliest written reference I could find is in a 1941 teaching by the sixth rebbe, R Yitzhak Yosef, describing a celebration in 1906, Sefer HaSihot 5701). The association of mashi’aḥ with the last day of Pesah is distinctively diasporic. In Israel, the last day of Pesah is known as Shevi’ie shel Pesaḥ – the seventh day of Pesah. The diaspora however, has an additional day following the seventh, commonly known as Aḥaron shel Pesaḥ- the last day of Pesah. The moniker Aḥaron creates the connection to mashi’aḥ who is also identified in rabbinic literature as Go’el Aḥaron – the last or final redeemer, in contrast to Go’el Rishon - the first redeemer, who is our teacher, Moshe. (see for example Bamidbar Rabbah, 11:2)

Having the future redemption as part of Pesah is as old as the rabbinic Seder. It is a reflection of understanding the exodus story as an archetype of redemption rather than as history. As an archetype, the story of exodus is present in the redemption experience of every person as well as in the individual and collective longing for redemption. From this perspective, we cannot tell the story of the exodus from Egypt without the story of mashi’aḥ within it. However, by creating a focus on mashia’ḥ at the end of Pesah, Ḥabad creates an arc for the holiday which begins by focusing on the redemption story in the past and ends looking towards the redemption story of the future.

The redemption story of the future is also where Miriam enters the story.

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As mentioned above, in rabbinic tradition the well that supplied the Israelites with water in the desert, traveled with them by the merit of Miriam.

The well was provided through the merit of Miriam, as is derived from the verse (Bamidbar 20:1-2) “Miriam died there and was buried there, and the congregation had no water.” What was this well like? It was like a kind of rock, made like a hive, ball-shaped. It rolled along with them on their journeys. When the standard-bearers camped and the tabernacle was constructed, the rock would come and settle down in the court of the Tent of Meeting. The chieftains would stand beside it and chant (in the words of Bamidbar 21:17), “Rise up, O well”, and the waters of the well would rise.

(Tanhuma, Bamidbar 2)

This “traveling spring” as it is called in the gemara (Bavli, Shabbat 35a), has a long history in rabbinic literature, in some versions beginning as early as the “opening of the well” created on the sixth day of creation, just before Shabbat (Mishnah, Avot 5:5). In one tradition, when the people of Israel entered the land, the well too found a place of rest:

Rabbi Hiyya bar (Ab)ba said: If you climb the wilderness (yeshimon) mountain, you will see something like sieve in the sea of Tiberias – that is Miriam’s well. Rabbi Yohanan said: the rabbis estimated that its location [in the sea] is opposite the middle gate of the ancient synagogue of Serongin.

(Yerushalmi, Kilayim 9:3)

Other traditions have the well continuing to travel, even later:

This happened in Siḥin: A blind man entered a cave to immerse in its waters. He happened upon Miriam’s well, and when he immersed, his blindness was cured.

(Tanhuma, Hukat 1. Other sources have a similar story happening in the Sea of Kinneret, Vayikra Rabbah 22:4)

This traveling-well tradition continued into medieval times:

There is a women’s custom to draw water when Shabbat ends, as soon as they hear “Barkhu” [of the evening prayer]. This is because we find in aggadah that Miriam’s well rests in the sea of Tiberias. But every Saturday night it travels through all the world’s springs and wells, and if a sick person happens upon its waters and drinks them, even if their entire body is covered with boils, they will immediately be healed. There is a story of a person whose body was covered with boils, and one Saturday night his wife went to draw water. She was delayed on her way more than usual, and she happened upon Miriam’s well when she filled her jug [from her usual well]. When she came home to her husband, he was angry at her [for being delayed] and his anger was so harsh that the jug fell from her arms and shattered. A few drops of water splattered on the man’s body, and the few places where a drop of water splashed were healed. Of this the wise say – All an angry person is left with, is his anger. This is why women draw water every Saturday night.

(The Kolbo, 41. R Aaron bar Ya’akov of Narbonne, 13-14 century)

“And his sister stood from afar” - Moshe in the basket, gifted by my father, c. 2005

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Physical healing was not the only quality of Miriam’s well. The waters of the well also allowed access to the inner teachings of Torah.

When the master, R Hayyim [Vital] first came to the master [the Ari] to learn this wisdom, he would forget everything he was taught, and he could not understand anything. This continued, until they went together to Tiberias, and the master of blessed memory [the Ari] took the master R Hayyim into the sea of Tiberias in a little boat that they found there. When they were in the sea, opposite the pillars of the old synagogue, the master of blessed memory filled a vessel with water, from a place facing the space between the pillars. He then gave this to the master R Hayyim of blessed memory to drink. He said to him – Now you will acquire great wisdom, because the water you drank came from Miriam’s well. That was when [R Hayyim] began entering this wisdom.

(Pri Etz Hayyim, Hanhagat Halimud)

R Hayyim Vital (16^th century, Tzfat) did not suffer from memory issues with any of his other studies. It was the specific inner teachings of Torah offered by the Ari that were closed to him until drinking from the well of Miriam allowed him an entryway. Seen through the prism of this story, the flow of water issuing from Miriam’s well, either holds or facilitates the flow of divine inspiration referred to as “a river flows from Eden” from which the masters of the Zohar derived their wisdom and creativity. (for a detailed explanation of this image see Melilah Helner-Eshed’s book, A River Flows From Eden) Miriam herself can now be seen as an embodiment of the Great Mother, the Sefirah of Binah, from which this divine flow comes.

The Zohar has a tradition (See for example Zohar 1:26b, 3:6b, Tikunei Zohar 91a and others) that that the two sets of tablets brought down from Sinai were of two different natures. The first set of tablets, which were shattered when Moshe witnessed the golden calf, held a Torah of complete freedom, flowing from the unblemished union of the highest sefirot, Ḥokhmah and Binah, a torah of divine presence manifest in love, the Torah of the Tree of Life, the Torah of redemption. It is only after the first tablets were shattered that Moshe brought down the second tablets which held the Torah we know – A Torah of matters prohibited and allowed, of divine anger and love, of reward and punishment. It is a Torah reflected in the world we live in, a world containing destruction and exile, the Torah of the Tree of Good and Evil.

Through Moshe’s hands the first tablets were shattered, and all we received were the second tablets. But through, Miriam the Torah of the first Tablets is still accessible.

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“And the enlightened will shine like the radiance (zohar) of the heavens” (Daniel 12:3)

They will shine with your composition, with this book of Zohar (radiance), which derives from the glow of the Great Mother, teshuvah (re-turn).

These people need no testing.

And once the people of Israel taste of the Tree of Life, which is this book of Zohar, it will take them out of exile with love, and they will experience “HVYH alone shall lead them, and no other God will join” (Devarim 32:12)

The Tree of Good and Evil which manifests as prohibition and permission, purity and impurity will no longer rule over Israel.

They will be sustained only by the side of the Tree of Life, where there is no difficulty raised by evil, nor challenges posed by the spirit of impurity.

(Zohar 3:124b, Raya Mehemna)

This text (in which Elijah the prophet is addressing R Shimeon bar Yoḥai) could be read as describing a future time, in which through dedication to the study of the book Zohar, the world will be transformed, and evil will cease to be. But it could also be read as a description of the individual’s immersion in the book of Zohar, the book itself functioning as an alternative universe within which the devotee can experience total divine love with no boundaries, allowing them to leave, even if just for a limited time, the world of exile and alienation.

(The difference between the two readings turns on the translation of the Aramaic phrase – yafkun beih min galuta. It could be translated either “by means of this book they will leave exile”, or “in this book they will leave exile”)

Or both readings could be true, different articulations of the same longing… We live in a world of boundaries that are important to keep. These are the boundaries and distinctions between self and other, between right and wrong, between real and fantasy, truth and falsehood, and more. When we lose track of those boundaries, we most often cause pain and suffering, to ourselves and to others. At the same time, one of the key insights of mystical consciousness is that all is one, that we exist within a flow of Being much greater than our sense of self, greater even than time and space. That our individuality, all of our experiences and thoughts and judgements, are no more than a drop of water splashing off a wave in the heart of the ocean, imagining separateness for a split second before merging back into the ocean which we never really left. The challenge of mystical life is to live with both the consciousness of that split second and the consciousness of eternity. As the Zohar declares time and again, its wisdom is only for those who know how to enter and how to leave. The practitioner of the Zohar is one who can enter the flow of eternity where self and judgment disappear, and who longs for that experience because it is true at the deepest levels of truth and because it is home. But they can leave that experience to re-turn to the split moment of distinction and morality, because it is also true and real and a place to live in the presence of God. The danger of Kabbalah, as discussed for many generations, is the danger of losing the ability to move between these two modes of consciousness. Mostly, it is the fear of a person living their life as if only the flow of eternity is true, the fear of a person who knows how to enter but not how to leave. But the practitioner is not called to choose between these two ways of being. Instead, they aspire to find ways in which they enhance rather than undermine each other. Sometimes these two ways of being are represented as the world that is and the world to come. Sometimes, as is the Zohar’s tendency, they are the world that is and the world that is be-coming in every moment.

Moshe brought us a second pair of tablets after the first tablets were shattered. Miriam kept us connected to those first tablets. Moshe gave us the Torah that grounds us in the world that is. Miriam gives us the Torah that allows us to connect to the eternal flow of becoming. Moshe gave us the written Torah. Miriam’s Torah is not dependent on a specific book, but rather as we go through our written Torah, it may appear suddenly in any word or sentence. We learn this from the women who go to draw water from any well or spring but know that at the right moment they may find the waters of Miriam’s well flowing there. If you dedicate yourself to the Torah of Moshe you can make it your own. The Torah of Miriam is always a gift.

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The seven days of Pesah encompass an entire week, the cycle of time within which we tell the story, and experience the creation of our world. The last day of Pesah, the eighth, takes one step beyond our worldly experience. It is the day of connecting to the eternal flow of the Great Mother, the day we drink from the well of Miriam. It is the day of the final redeemer, the day of mashi’aḥ.

The Hebrew words “Miriam the Prophetess” (Miriam Hanevi’ah) have the same numerical value as the word “the messiah” (Hamashi’aḥ – 363)

Or perhaps the “Heh” at the beginning of the word really belongs at the end – Meshiḥah, for she is the female messiah…