We often invoke the Hebrew phrase “l’dor v’dor,” from generation to generation, within Jewish life. This expression of continuity suggests that a smooth transition from one generation to the next is only one Hebrew consonant away.
But anyone who studies or practices leadership, however, knows that succession is tricky. Sometimes it’s even treacherous. Veteran leaders may hesitate to hand over the reins, believing they have the most wisdom and experience. Experience alone does not create trust. Experience can also be a liability.
The succession from older to younger leaders raises deep anxieties about an organization’s identity and its governance. New policies can alienate traditional supporters. Such turns can also destabilize a political party or an organization for months, if not longer. Yet implementing change is critical and essential. It signals to stakeholders that new energy and ideas are valued. Emerging talent will be nurtured and grown.
Leadership transitions have been at the center of U.S. politics this week as President Joe Biden decided to end his reelection run and throw his support behind Vice President Kamala Harris. So it is a fitting coincidence that this week’s Torah portion offers numerous examples of next-generation leadership, culminating in Moses’ ceding his role as the leader of the Israelites as our peripatetic nation inches closer to a homeland.
In the portion, Pinhas fills a role that Moses could not. Eleazer, the High Priest, stands next to Moses, his uncle, to occupy the former role of his late father Aaron. On the steppes of Moab, the two enumerate the clans then name the main descendants associated with each tribe, offering a glimpse of future leadership on the precipice of the Jordan River.
These examples are followed by Moses’ astounding support for the transfer of power from the very being with the most at stake: “Let the Lord, Source of the breath of all flesh, appoint someone over the community who shall go out before them and come in before them, and who shall take them out and bring them in, so that the Lord’s community may not be like sheep that have no shepherd” (Num 27: 16-17).
The medieval French commentator Rashi notes that Moses, once forbidden to enter the Promised Land, asks only that his replacement have merit. There is a darker midrashic take on this request: “I ask that You should not do to him, as You have done to me since I may not bring them into the Land.” Moses seeks to correct the way he had been treated.
God immediately grants Moses’ request. Joshua is chosen. Moses’ own sons are not deemed worthy. The needs of the nation come first. Joshua earned his place through loyalty and hard work, and, according to interpretations in Jewish tradition, deserved his new status because he straightened out the chairs in the study hall and carried buckets of water. Leadership is ultimately about serving rather than being served.
Moses lays his lands upon Joshua’s head in a gesture of affection and authority and secures his replacement in front of the entire congregation publicly. “Invest him with some of your authority, so that the whole Israelite community may obey” (Num. 27:20). This biblical equivalent of an endorsement told others that Joshua had God’s approval rating.
As we live longer and healthier lives, many deserving leaders wait in the wings for established leaders to cede power. They rarely go willingly, as we’ve seen with many political and corporate leaders today. They hang on too long and make little room for fresh blood when they should have left the world stage gracefully. When they do, as we’ve seen this past week, they are rightfully celebrated and praised for the wisdom. They create space for praise and appreciation. Their service is feted.
The transfer of power takes place within families and companies, within for-profit and nonprofit structures. Our own Jewish organizations — schools, synagogues, communal institutions — would benefit from taking a page out of Moses’ playbook. How old are those who are leading? Who is waiting to lead and for how long?
There are better ways of leaving. In my forthcoming book, “The Torah of Leadership,” I cite Bill George’s Harvard Business Review article, “The CEO’s Guide to Retirement.” The self-worth of a leader, he writes, is profoundly connected to his or her public self-image. It is understandable to want to stay in the game and remain relevant and vital. But it is not fair to put personal concerns above the well-being of an organization.
George’s advice: finish strong. Leave before you are asked to leave. Prepare a year earlier by charting a next chapter. Make a clean break to give space for successors to grow. Create a pause of 6-12 months before taking on new leadership commitments to recover rather than rebound.
Moses’ death is told in Deuteronomy 34. His lasting contribution is burnished: “Never again did there arise in Israel a prophet like Moses” (Deut. 34:10). The entire Torah ends, not with Israel’s arrival in Canaan, but with Moses’ legacy. Moses leaves only after anointing his successor, his decades of service a crowning achievement.
The story of every nation is the story of its leaders, when they were born, how they lived — and also how they leave.
