By Way of the Wilderness

by Gilbert, Morris

  “So many idols,” Moses interrupted. “Surely you can’t mean this.”

  Aaron was a perceptive individual and knew he had gone too far.

  “Well, of course we do not want idols. But there is nothing wrong with ceremony. It gives people something to cling to. Now, back to the question at hand. Go to your mother. Have her beg the pharaoh to lighten the load on our people.”

  “That is not what I want. I want them to be free.”

  “That will come. One step at a time, brother—one step at a time!”

  ****

  Moses was no longer sure of who he was. All his life he had known himself only as Moses, Prince of Egypt, but now another identity had suddenly arisen within him. Moses the Hebrew. Moses the servant, not of the gods of Egypt but of the formless god whose name could not even be spoken aloud but who had made all things.

  Moses struggled with this intently, and he found much relief while sitting at the feet of the oldest of the elders. Zuriel was older than anyone knew, more than a hundred. He was kept as a treasure of the Hebrew people, for he remembered sitting at his great-grandfather’s feet, and his great-grandfather could remember as a small child the Hebrews serving under the elderly Joseph’s benevolent reign.

  Day after day Moses went to Zuriel, soaking up the stories of his ancestors. Zuriel’s body was frail, but his mind was still alert, and he remembered the stories in great detail. His old eyes were faded, but they glowed as he spoke of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob.

  Moses sat still as a stone, listening intently as Zuriel spoke of Jacob’s death.

  “He was not as good a man as his grandfather Abraham,” old Zuriel said, nodding his head constantly. “But he was a crafty fellow. He had twelve sons, and his twelve sons became the twelve tribes of Israel.” He looked over at Moses and smiled toothlessly. “We know you are of the tribe of Levi, one of those sons.”

  “How do we know all this? It was so long ago.”

  “We are not a strong people in many ways, but we Hebrews are strong on tradition,” old Zuriel said. “We guard what we have heard and repeat these stories over and over to keep them firm in our memories. We pass these along to our sons, and they pass them to their sons. Our traditions are everything to us.”

  “Tell me about the other sons of Jacob out of which our tribes came.”

  “Reuben was the firstborn and would have been the leader of Israel’s sons, but he forfeited his birthright by sleeping with his father’s concubine. Had he become the leader of Israel, his tribe would have been the most significant, but that never happened.”

  “Which one of the sons did receive the birthright?” Moses asked.

  “Ah, you go right to the point. It was Judah.” The old man began to chant in a voice that was weak at first, but grew stronger as he recited the ancient prophecy:

  “Judah, your brothers will praise you; your hand will be on the neck of your enemies; your father’s sons will bow down to you.

  “You are a lion’s cub, O Judah; you return from the prey, my son.

  “Like a lion he crouches and lies down, like a lioness—who dares to rouse him?

  “The scepter will not depart from Judah, nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet, until he comes to whom it belongs and the obedience of the nations is his.”

  Moses straightened up, relieved to hear this. “Well, I do not have to worry about being the leader of Israel, for I am not of the tribe of Judah.”

  Zuriel’s old eyes blinked; then he leaned forward and whispered, “There is one coming who will be the Great Redeemer. He will be like no man we have ever known. But until the Great Redeemer comes, God will use men of flesh and blood to serve and to save His people.” Zuriel reached out his hand, and Moses took it in his strong hand. The old man’s hand felt as fragile as the bones of a tiny bird, but they suddenly tightened on Moses’ strong hand.

  “I think you are one whom God has chosen to be this kind of redeemer.”

  The words sent a tremor of fear through Moses. “I have no desire to be a leader.”

  “That has nothing to do with it. Abraham had no desire to leave his homeland, but God commanded him, and he had no choice but to go. Others of our family have also been chosen when they did not expect it. God has reached out and touched them and put them in directions they never dreamed. You, I think, will be one of these men, Moses of the tribe of Levi!”

  ****

  Princess Kali listened as Moses repeated the story of what he had been doing. She had already been warned by her spies that the high priest had given instructions that Moses would be followed and every word he said carefully scrutinized.

  Now she leaned forward and took both his hands in hers. “Oh, son, why must you pursue this?”

  “I must help my people.”

  “Perhaps we could work together. I will speak to Pharaoh. The burden of the slaves could be lightened with one word from him.”

  “That is what Aaron said, but I am not interested in lightening the load. The Hebrews came to Egypt as free men, and they have been enslaved by the pharaohs. They must be set free.”

  Fear came into Kali’s heart and was reflected in her eyes. “That can never be.”

  “Perhaps not, but I must go join my life to those of my brothers. If they suffer, I must suffer also.”

  Kali did all she could to persuade Moses not to follow this course. She felt frightened for him, but finally she saw there was no changing his mind.

  Moses put his arms around his foster mother and held her tightly. “I love you dearly, my mother, but something that I cannot explain is pulling at me. I must go and join the fate of my brothers.”

  Chapter 5

  Despite the miserable lives of the Hebrews, they maintained a reverence toward marriage unknown in Egypt. This irritated the Egyptian taskmasters.

  One of the most loving couples among the tribes were an older man called Yagil and his wife, Berione. Yagil was some years older than his wife and had been in declining health for years. Berione was an attractive woman, despite her hard life as a slave, and often had to fight off the attentions of the Egyptian taskmasters who sought to seduce all the attractive young Hebrew women.

  Yagil had awakened early and attempted to get out of bed, but when he sat up, he began to cough furiously. He grabbed for a cloth that he kept by his mat and put it over his face, his body racked by spasms.

  Berione was already up, and coming to her husband’s side, she knelt beside him waiting for the coughing to subside. She took the cloth and saw that it was spotted with blood. She put her arm around him and said, “You cannot work today, husband.”

  “I must. The taskmasters will not let me lie idle.”

  “But you can’t work if you are sick.”

  “What do the Egyptians care if a Hebrew is sick?” Yagil fought off the impulse to cough again and got to his feet. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I must go.”

  “Here. I have fixed your breakfast.”

  Yagil sat down cross-legged and took the bowl of soup that Berione had placed before him. He had little hunger, for the wasting disease that had struck his lungs had sapped his appetite. He ate what he could and got up, trying to hide his weakness from Berione. “I will go. If I do not, our whole group will be punished because I’m not there to help make up the count.”

  Berione put her arms around him and kissed him, then stood at the opening of their hut as he slowly walked out. She watched as he joined the group of men who trudged silently toward the brickyard, then turned back inside the hut, her heart filled with apprehension for her husband.

  “You don’t look like you can work today, Yagil,” one of the men said to him, but Yagil only shook his head. “You’re sick,” the man insisted. “You need to be in bed.”

  Yagil did not have the strength to answer. He only shook his head and continued walking, each step a misery for him. Several times he had coughing spasms, and the rag that he kept to wipe his face was now thoroughly soaked with his blood. />
  When they reached the brickyard, Yagil climbed down into the pit and began the endless treading of the clay.

  The day passed interminably for the old man, and by late afternoon he had lost all feeling in his lower body. He had coughed until his ribs were hurting, and finally he felt himself slipping down into the mud.

  But he did not fall, for strong arms held him up. Yagil’s body was racked with coughing, yet still he turned to see who had picked him up. He did not recognize the face, which was healthy and strong, not weak and bony and starved. The eyes of the man were what Yagil noticed most. They were almost like twin beams of light, and the voice was different from the voice of slaves.

  “Brother, you cannot do any more. I will help you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “A friend.”

  Twenty minutes later one of the guards came to check on the workers in the mixing pit. He looked down and saw Yagil being supported by a tall, muscular man. He did not recognize the slave and shouted, “Let that man go!”

  Instead the tall figure turned and said, “He is too weak. I will do his work for him.” Without another word he picked Yagil up as if he were a child, carried him out of the pit, and set him down in the shade of a scrub tree.

  The guard stared at him in astonishment. “I do not know you.”

  “You know that the work will be done, for you will watch me.”

  The guard lifted his whip, but suddenly the eyes of the strange slave burned, and the overseer took a step backward, his eyes filled with alarm.

  “What do you care who does the work as long as it gets done?”

  The guard watched as the strange slave slipped back into the pit. He looked out of place there, his limbs muscular and rounded, his neck wide and strong. The guard watched for a time, then shrugged. “Maybe he’s right. What do I care as long as the work’s done?” He walked over and looked at the frail body of Yagil and saw the blood mixed with mud on his chest. “He won’t last long anyway.”

  ****

  Berione looked up, shocked to see her husband being helped along by a stranger, a tall man who did not appear to be a slave, yet was dressed in a slave’s loincloth.

  “Husband,” she cried, rushing to his side, “what is it?”

  “He was too sick to work,” the man supporting him said. “I took his place.”

  “Put him down over here.”

  Moses put the limp form down on the mat and watched as the wife bathed his face and body with water. Yagil was panting, unable to get his breath, but he turned to the man and managed to ask in a weak voice, “What is your name?”

  “I am Moses … of the tribe of Levi.”

  “The tribe of Levi?”

  “Yes. I am the son of Amram and Jochebed.”

  Both Yagil and Berione stared unbelieving at Moses. They knew his story, as did all the Hebrews.

  “But you are not a slave. Why are you here?” Yagil asked in astonishment.

  “I am a Hebrew. I must join myself to my people.”

  Moses turned to leave, but Berione said, “Wait. Stay. I have food fixed.”

  Moses turned and smiled at her. “Thank you. I am hungry.”

  The meal that Moses sat down to was simple—a watery stew with little meat in it. He did not ask what it was. He watched as Berione urged more food upon her husband, but the man seemed uninterested in food.

  “I was surprised that the guards permitted you to work for me,” Yagil said.

  “Why did you do such a thing?” Berione asked.

  “Because my brother here was sick and I wanted to help.”

  “All of our people are sick,” Yagil said huskily. His voice was weak and reedy, and an unhealthy pallor discolored his complexion. “You cannot work for all of us—even as strong as you are.”

  “No, I cannot, but I will do what I can,” Moses said.

  Then he rose and nodded to the couple. “I will come back in the morning. I will find the guard to tell him that I am working in your place. You must rest, my brother, until you are well.”

  But Yagil was studying Moses with the eyes of one who knew his fate. “It is too late for me, but I will pray that the strong God we worship will help others who are stronger than I.”

  After Moses left, Berione said, “I’ve never seen anyone as strong as he is.”

  “Yes, strong in body but even stronger in spirit. When he put his eyes on the guard, I thought the guard would run away. He is the one sent to help us. Not just you and me, Berione, but our whole people.”

  ****

  After the day’s work had been completed and the evening meal consumed, Korah called a meeting of the elders to order. He stared at Moses, displeasure in his eyes.

  “Your brother has done a foolish thing,” Korah said bluntly, directing his words to Aaron. “You should have counseled him better.”

  “He did counsel me.” Moses spoke up, wearing a simple linen garment around his waist, the muscles of his arms and chest standing out in stark relief. He stood with his legs slightly apart and his arms crossed in the Egyptian manner.

  “That is right,” Aaron broke in. “I have tried to convince Moses that he could do more good in other ways.”

  “We all agree with that,” Korah said. “Do we need more slaves? There are enough of us as there are. Why have you done this thing, Moses?”

  “I have joined my people,” Moses said simply. “I should have done it years ago, but I was thoughtless.”

  “What good will your death do?” Jacob demanded. A tall man with thin features and an anxious look, he was second on the council next to Korah. “Sooner or later the Egyptians will recognize you. Then what will they think?”

  “That’s right,” Eli enjoined. “What will happen to us then?”

  “If anything happens, it will be to me,” Moses said calmly. He saw the resistance among the elders and asked abruptly, “Why are you so afraid for me to join you? I am of your own flesh and blood. It is true that I was raised in the court of Pharaoh, but I should have recognized my heritage. Indeed, I have been at fault, but I have come now to join you and must suffer along with my brothers.”

  Korah shook his head, and the fat of his jowls and neck quivered. “That is foolishness, man, absolute foolishness! You have a high position in Egypt. You can do much to alleviate our suffering.”

  “Exactly what I told him, Korah,” Aaron cried. “You must go back to the palace, Moses.”

  “I will not,” Moses said firmly, and his voice was like the closing of a stone door.

  Korah shouted in frustration, “You are a fool! What good will your death do to us? Be gone with you!” He rose to his feet and, with a gesture, scattered the council.

  As soon as they were outside and on their way back to their parents’ hut, Aaron began to remonstrate with Moses. “You should not have been so arrogant before the council.”

  Aaron’s words surprised Moses. “Me, arrogant? I did not think I was.”

  “Why, of course you were. You told the chief elder that he was wrong.”

  “Well, he is wrong.”

  “Who are you to say that? What do you know?” Aaron cried in despair. “You come among us for a few weeks, and you think you know more than the entire council of elders.”

  “The council has gotten used to slavery. They wear it like a garment,” Moses said. He was not an arrogant man, although he had developed a certain pride in his place. He was rapidly losing this, however, now that he knew his true nature and heritage. He was shocked at how Aaron and the council and many others could simply accept slavery as their fate. It was true that they expected freedom to come for their people someday, but they could not find it in themselves to rise up and resist the Egyptians now.

  When Moses and Aaron reached their parents’ house, they listened to Amram and Jochebed argue on the side of the council.

  “You should pay heed to the council, Moses,” Amram insisted. “They are wise men.”

  “I’m sure they are, but they have for
gotten what it’s like to be free,” Moses said. “Or more to the point, they have never known freedom.” He suddenly realized that this was the truth. He was talking to people who had never known freedom. That was why they were willing to bargain for an extra benefit or two, another extra morsel of food, or half a day off from time to time—they had no concept of trying to free themselves from their captors. Moses, on the other hand, had known nothing but freedom, and he knew in his heart what it was like never to have to answer to the lash of the taskmasters.

  “Leave him alone,” Miriam said suddenly, and her parents and Aaron turned to stare at her in shock. Her eyes were open wide and fixed on Moses. “My brother Moses is right. What good will it do us if the Egyptians give us a little more food or a little time off? We will still all die in Egypt as slaves. Do not listen to them, Moses.”

  Moses smiled and moved over to put his arm around Miriam. “You have followed me all of my life to see this day, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. I knew when I saw the princess pick you out of the water that you were going to redeem Israel from slavery.”

  Jochebed suddenly began to cry. “I remember how very hard it was to give you up that day.”

  “But now,” Moses said, “God has given me back to you.” He stood tall and strong, and his parents saw the burning light of strength in the eyes of their broad-shouldered son. “God will deliver our people.”

  ****

  When Moses stopped by the hut of Yagil and Berione early the next morning, he saw a guard named Magon, one of the cruelest of the taskmasters, outside the hut taunting Berione. He was holding her by the shoulders and laughing as she protested. Yagil came out of the hut and said, “I will go to work today. Leave her alone.”

  Magon reached out and struck the old man a terrible blow in the chest. It drove Yagil backward, and he began gagging and choking.

  Berione tore herself loose and went to her husband. She fell down and put her arms around him, calling his name. Moses moved forward, and as he did, he heard her cry, “He’s dead! He’s dead!”