When his sister Miriam was struck with leprosy, Moses turned and cried out, “G-d, please heal her, please.” The Hebrew word “Naw” is a cry from deep within. It is said twice in the five words used by Moses. It is Moses at his most vulnerable and most human.

When I read this phrase, I see Moses with tears streaming down his face and his body trembling

with fear. Will his plea be answered in the affirmative? What if it is not? What else can he do, being powerless before The Almighty.

His reaction is one of a brother who loves his sister. She enabled him to be raised by his mother, convincing Pharaoh’s daughter to let a Hebrew woman be the au pair for the baby the princess saved from the Nile. His reaction is one of a brother whose sister is a partner in leading the Jewish people. Both personal and professional ties come together in an anguished scream.

What I see in this response is not only pain, but also gratitude. His sister saved him 80 years ago. Yet, part of his anguish was not from any immediate response to her friendship and counsel now, but probably also his recognition of her caring many decades ago.

There are people in our lives who have been around us for a long time. The question, “What have you done for me lately,” is a valid one. Long time friends can’t just sit on ceremony and hearken back to something they did many decades ago. If they have ignored you, or worse, wronged you, your affection will certainly not be as intense as it once was. It may also dissipate.

What Moses teaches us is to constantly remember and appreciate all that someone has done for us, no matter when. Although that will make us vulnerable to tears and sadness, perhaps vulnerable to our most human self, it also makes us open to the joy of gratitude.