I don’t usually write fiction.
But sometimes the best way to tell the truth is to make something up. So, here’s what happened when the biblical brothers Aaron and Moses bumped into each other at a modern synagogue on Yom Kippur. If you’ve ever held a grudge against a sibling, this one’s for you.
Aaron, Moses’ older brother, showed up at synagogue on Yom Kippur and sat in the back row. He saw Moses sitting near the front. “Of course,” he thought.
The Rabbi spoke: “For transgressions against God, the Day of Atonement atones; for transgressions of one human against another, the Day of Atonement does not atone until they have made peace with one another.
“Kill me,” Aaron thought. “Two minutes down, two hours to go.”
Aaron counted the number of chandeliers hanging in the synagogue, the number of men in hats. He counted whenever he was bored. He once counted the number of times he was mentioned in the Torah—266, which was terrific until he saw how many times Moses was mentioned. 830.
“You counted how many times your brother was mentioned in Torah?” Aaron’s wife asked. “Are you crazy?” She accused him of being jealous, but she didn’t get it. He wasn’t jealous of his stuttering little brother.
It was the calf. The stupid golden calf. The calf that the Israelites prayed to while Moses was doing God knows what up in the mountain. Moses and God threw a fit when they saw the people dancing around it. One little mistake and suddenly you’re an idol worshipper.
The brothers had rarely spoken since. To make matters worse, neither of them made it to the promised land, and each brother blamed the other.
The rabbi went on. “We have all committed offenses, together we confess these human sins.” The congregation read the list in alphabetical order: Arrogance and bigotry, cynicism and deceit—”
Aaron rolled his eyes and got up to stretch his legs.
“Egoism, flattery and greed—”
and he walked downstairs to the bathroom.
“Injustice and jealousy and keeping grudges—”
Aaron walked into the men’s room and saw Moses standing at the sink. He searched for something to say. “Hey” he managed.
“Hey” Moses replied.
Aaron watched his brother wash his hands, and suddenly he was three years old again, standing on the riverbank as their mother placed baby Moses in a basket and set him afloat. Looking at him now, Aaron saw not the prophet, not the rival—just his little brother.
Moses looked up at him, “Aaron, you know—” his voice faltered.
Aaron smiled. “I know, Moses. I know. Me too.”