“Aaron and Hur” by Alexis Fuentes
29th Sunday in Ordinary Time
The first time I heard this story of Moses, Aaron and Hur, it wasn’t in Mass. It was on the phone with a man broken down in tears. His name was John and he had just lost his 1 month old son.
Baby Francis was born beautiful and healthy to two wonderfully faithful Catholic parents, John and Rachel. He was the fifth child to be welcomed into this adoring home, and his family was captivated by his gentle spirit. No one suspected that this child would suffer a rare condition that would end his life here on earth just a few weeks after he was born.
I listened to my friend grieve over his baby as he relayed the story to me on the phone. I was overcome by sadness, anger, and of course, ambition. I wanted to do something. “What do you need? What can I do?” I remember asking emphatically over and over. Do you need money? What about food? Can I arrange the funeral? Who can I call? I went into action mode, trying to find a way to stop their suffering. All I wanted to do was take their pain away, but I couldn’t. It was their pain. It was their suffering. This trial belonged to them.
And John, even in his brokenness, knew this well. In great humility, he said to me, “Alexis, this burden is mine. No one can do this for me. This battle has been entrusted to me. But I will need you to stand beside me, as I do what I can for Rachel and the kids. I need Aaron. I need Hur. Please be that for me now.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. Which Aaron? Which ‘her’? It took me a few moments to realize that the Aaron he was talking about was the great Biblical figure, and onto Google I went. When I found this story, which is the First Reading from this weekend’s Mass, I was stunned. “As long as Moses kept his hands raised up, Israel had the better of the fight…[therefore] Aaron and Hur supported his hands, one on one side and one on the other…” (Exodus 17)
He wasn’t asking me to do the work of this trial. He was asking me to stand beside him, lest he become weak and fall. He wasn’t asking for the battle to be over, he was asking us to lend him our strength so that he could keep fighting for his beloved, for his Israel.
And so we did. We, their friends, prayed for him and his family. We cried for them, listened to them. We organized for them. We wrote thank-you cards for them. When all the “fuss was over” we checked in on them. As time passed, we remembered to remember Francis for them.
Moses raised his hands to the sky so that he could strengthen Joshua and win the battle for Israel. He knew his only hope was to reach for the Lord. In the same way, John raised his hands to the sky so that he could carry his wife and children in their darkest hour. His Hope remained faithfully in Him for who he reached. He didn’t stop to despair. He couldn’t afford to pause, to ask why, even to rest. Turning away from the Lord –lowering his hands—was simply not an option. But in his humility, he knew he didn’t have the strength to do it alone. He invited us to be Aaron and Hur, and it was our privilege and our joy to say, “Yes.”
How truly alive the Word of God is! And what an honor it was to be asked to play a part in the story—to hold up the mighty arms of Moses when even he could no longer fight alone. This is our Catholic faith. This is our family crest: to honor each other’s unique path to holiness, bearing each other’s burdens for the glory of God. In this way we carry on the great traditions of Aaron and Hur, of Naomi and Ruth, of Paul and Barnabas, and even of Simon of Cyrene, who assisted Jesus as He carried the heaviest burden of all.
Of course, you and I both know the story doesn’t end there. There may be many battles to be fought in this life, but as Catholics, we know that the victory has already been won! This week was a week of great celebration as John and Rachel welcomed their sixth child, Benjamin, into their home. Their story is a testament to all of us. Do not despair! Fix your eyes on Heaven! For although “weeping may tarry for the night, joy comes with the morning.”
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