I have put the priests in charge of all the holy gifts that are brought to Me by the people of Israel. I have given these offerings to you and your sons as your regular share.
Let my life be an offering!
You priests will receive no inheritance of land or share of property among the people of Israel. I am your inheritance and your share. As for the tribe of Levi, your relatives, I will pay them for their service in the Tabernacle with the tithes from the entire land of Israel.
Aaron surrendered to the Voice, listening, listening, drinking in the words like living water.
The Lord commanded that a red heifer without defect or blemish and that had never been under a yoke be given to Eleazar to be taken outside the camp and slaughtered. Aaron’s son would take some of the blood on his finger and sprinkle it seven times toward the front of the Tent of Meeting. The heifer was to be burned, the ashes collected and put into a ceremonially clean place outside the camp for use in the water of cleansing, for purification from sin.
So much to remember: the festivals, the sacrifices, the laws.
Aaron sat with Moses and looked out over the tents and flickering lights of thousands of campfires. “We are all that is left of the generation that left Egypt.” Thirty-eight years had passed from the time they left Kadesh-barnea until they crossed the Zered Valley. The entire generation of fighting men had perished from the camp, as the Lord had sworn would happen. “Just you and me and Miriam.”
Surely now, the Lord would turn them toward the Promised Land.
The cloud moved and the whole community traveled with the Lord until He stopped over the Desert of Zin. The people made camp at Kadesh.
While Aaron studied the scrolls, Miriam laid her hand on his shoulder. “I love you, Aaron. I have loved you like a son.”
His sister had spoken very little since the Lord had afflicted her with leprosy, healed her, and commanded her to spend the seven days of cleansing outside the camp. She had returned a different woman—tenderly patient, quiet. She served the family with her customary devotion, but kept her thoughts to herself. He was perplexed by her sudden need to say she loved him.
She went outside the tent and sat at the entrance.
Troubled, Aaron rose and went out to her. “Miriam?”
“It is our own pride that slays us, Aaron.”
Aaron searched her face. “Shall I send for Eleazar’s wife to tend you?” She looked so old and worn down, her dark eyes soft and moist.
“Come closer, Aaron.” She cupped his face and looked into his eyes. “I have made terrible mistakes.”
“I know. So have I.” Her hands were cool, her fingers trembling. He remembered when she was robust and full of fire. He had learned long ago not to argue with his sister. But she was different now. Humiliated before all Israel, humbled before God, she had become strangely content when God had stripped her of the one thing she could not conquer—her pride. “And the Lord forgave us both.”
“Yes.” She smiled and took her hands from him. She folded them in her lap. “We contend with God and He disciplines us. We repent and God forgives.” She looked up at the cloud moving in slow undulating circles overhead. “Only His love endures forever.”
Aaron felt a niggling fear grow inside him. Miriam was slipping away. Fear gripped him. She was dying. Surely the Lord would allow Miriam to enter Canaan. If she was not spared, would he also die before they reached the Jordan River? He could not imagine life without his sister. She had always been there for him, from the time he was a little boy. She had been like a second mother, scolding and disciplining him, guiding and teaching him. At eight, she had been bold enough to approach Pharaoh’s daughter. Her quick thinking had brought Moses home for a few years before he was taken into the palace.
He beckoned Ithamar. “Bring Moses.” Ithamar took one look at his aunt and ran. Aaron took Miriam’s hand and tried to warm it between his. “Moses will come.” She was just tired. She would be better soon. She would be refreshed after a rest and rise again.
“Moses cannot stop what God has ordained, Aaron. Have I not been just as disobedient as the others of our generation who have died? It is just that I go the way of all flesh here in the wilderness.”
And what about me?
The cloud changed from gray to gold and from gold to fiery orange and red as day became night. The Lord stood guard, giving them light and warmth by night, just as the Lord gave them shade during the heat of the day.
“I’m not afraid, Aaron. It’s time.”
“Don’t talk that way.” He rubbed her hand. “The forty years are nearly up. We are about to go into the Promised Land.”
“Oh, Aaron, don’t you understand yet?”
Moses hurried toward them, staff in hand. Aaron rose. “Moses. Help her. Please. She can’t die. We’re so close.”
“Miriam, my sister . . .” Moses knelt beside her. “Are you in pain?”
Her mouth curved. “Life is pain.”
The family gathered: Eleazar and Ithamar and their wives and children; Eliezer and Gershom sat with her. Moses’ Cushite wife approached. Smiling, Miriam lifted her hand. They had long since made their peace and become dear friends. Miriam spoke in a whisper, her strength ebbing. The Cushite woman wept and kissed Miriam’s hand.
Aaron was frantic with fear. This couldn’t be happening! Miriam couldn’t die yet. Hadn’t she been the one to lead the people with songs of deliverance, songs of praise to the Lord?
It was near dawn when Miriam sighed deeply. She died with her eyes still open and fixed on the pillar of fire that now became the swirling gray cloud. Spears of sunlight came from it, making spots of light on the desert ground.
With an anguished cry, Aaron reached toward her, only to be pulled back by Eleazar. “You can’t touch her now, Father.” A high priest could not allow himself to become unclean. He would be unfit to perform his duties for the people as their high priest! Sobbing, Aaron straightened with difficulty.
“Father?” Eleazar supported him.
“It is time for the morning sacrifices.” Aaron heard the harshness in his own voice and did not regret it. Is this the kindness of God, to allow his sister to live so long and then have her die so close to the borders of the Promised Land?
You never forget our sins, do You, Lord? Never.
Grieving and angry, he walked away as his sons’ wives and servants began the warbling scream of grief.
People nearby heard and came running. Soon the entire camp was wailing.
No sooner was Miriam buried than the people complained again. A crowd stood before the Tabernacle and quarreled with Moses. “Why did you bring the Lord’s community to this place?”
Aaron could not stop thinking about his sister. Every day he awakened with an aching heart. Every day he had to come here and serve the Lord, and every day these grown children turned out to be no better than their fathers and mothers!
“There’s no water here!”
“Why did you make us leave Egypt and bring us here to this terrible place?”
Aaron stepped forward. “What do you know of Egypt? You were not even born when we left that place!”
“We’ve heard!”
“We have come close enough to look back and see the green along the Nile.”
“What have we had in this desert?”
“There’s no grain!”
“And no figs!”
“No grapes or pomegranates.”
“And there is no water to drink!”
“We wish we had died in the Lord’s presence with our brothers!”
Aaron turned away, so angry he knew if he remained, he would say or do something he would later regret. He looked at Moses, hoping to draw wisdom and patience from him, but his brother too was red with anger. Moses fell on his face at the entrance of the Tabernacle and Aaron went down beside him. He wanted to pound his fists on the ground. How long would the Lord expect them to lead these people? Did they think he and Moses had water to drink? How many time
s did these people have to witness a miracle before they believed that he and Moses were appointed by the Lord to lead them?
You are the one who brought us to this place! They always blame us! Is it Your plan that my brother and I die at their hands? They are ready to kill us! Lord, give them water to drink.
You and Aaron must take the staff and assemble the entire community. As the people watch, command the rock over there to pour out its water. You will get enough water from the rock to satisfy all the people and their livestock.
Moses rose and went inside the Tabernacle. He came out with Aaron’s staff in his hand. “Gather those rebels!”
Aaron went out ahead of him and shouted at the people to gather together in front of the rock. “You want water? Come and see it pour from the rock!” They swarmed there, empty water bags in hand, still complaining.
Moses pushed Aaron to one side and stood in front of all of them, the staff in his hand. “Listen, you rebels! Must we bring you water from this rock?”
“Yes! Give us water!”
Moses took the staff with both hands and hit the rock.
“Water, Moses! Give us water, Moses!”
Face red, eyes blazing, Moses struck the rock again, harder this time. Water gushed forth. The people pressed forward, crying out, rejoicing, filling their cupped hands, filling their skin bags, laughing and cheering Moses and Aaron. Aaron laughed with them, exultant. See how water flowed when his staff was wielded.
“Blessings on you, Moses! May you be praised, Aaron!”
Moses stood apart from them, staff in hand, head high, watching.
Aaron cupped his hands and drank with the people. Aaron blushed with pleasure as people called out praise to him and Moses. The water continued to flow and the Israelites brought their flocks and herds to drink. And still the water came. Never had water tasted so good. He wiped the droplets from his beard and grinned at Moses. “They do not doubt us now, do they, my brother?”
Because you did not trust Me enough to demonstrate My holiness to the people of Israel, you will not lead them into the land I am giving them!
God spoke softly, but with a finality that made Aaron’s blood go cold. The curse of the Levites was on him. He had lost his temper and given in to pride. He had forgotten the Lord’s command. Command the rock. No, that wasn’t true. He hadn’t forgotten. He had wanted Moses to use his staff. He had cheered when water gushed from the rock. He had been proud and delighted when the people slapped him on the back.
How quickly he had fallen headlong into sin. And now, he would pay the consequences just like the rest of his generation, even Miriam who had repented and served others with gladness for almost forty years! He would not set foot in the land God had promised the Israelites either. Miriam had died, and now he would die, too.
Aaron sank down and sat on a boulder, shoulders slumped, hands limp between his knees. What hope had he of ever being any different than what he was: a sinner. Pride, Miriam had said. Pride slays men. Pride strips men of a future and a hope. He covered his face. “I have sinned against the Lord.”
“As have I.”
Aaron glanced up. His brother’s face was ashen. He was bent like an old man, leaning heavily on the staff. “Not as I have sinned, Moses. You have always praised the Lord and credited Him with all righteousness.”
“Not today. I allowed anger to rule me. Pride made me stumble. And now, I too will die on this side of the Jordan River. The Lord has told me that I will not enter the land He promised.”
“No.” Aaron wept. “I am more to blame than you, Moses. I cried out for you to give us water as loudly as any of them. It is right that I be denied a land of my own. I am a sinner.”
“Sin is sin, Aaron. Let’s not get into a quarrel over who has outdone the other in that regard. We are all sinners. It is but for the grace of God that we live and breathe at all.”
“You are the one God chose to deliver Israel!”
“Do not let your love for me blind you, my brother. God is our deliverer.”
Aaron held his head. “Let your one mistake be on my head. Wasn’t I the one who fashioned the molten calf and let the people run wild? Did I not try to steal some of your praise just now?”
“We both stole glory from God, who gave the water. All I had to do was speak to the rock. And what did I do but make a show for their benefit? And why else but to gain their attention, rather than remind them God is their provider.”
“You have been telling them that for years, Moses.”
“It needed to be said again.” Moses sat beside him on the boulder. “Aaron, are we not each responsible for our own sins? The Lord chastens me because I didn’t trust Him. The people need to trust in Him, only in Him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“The Lord called me to stand beside you, to help you. And what help have I been over the years? If I were a better man, a better priest, I would have realized the temptation. I would have warned you.”
Moses sighed. “I lost my temper, Aaron. I didn’t forget what the Lord commanded. I didn’t think speaking would be . . . impressive enough.” His fingers tightened on Aaron’s knee. “We must not be discouraged, Aaron. Doesn’t a father discipline a son in order to train him up in the way he should go?”
“And where will we go now, Moses? God has said we will never set foot in the Promised Land. What hope have we?”
“God is our hope.”
Aaron could not stop his tears. His throat ached. His chest heaved. Oh, God, I’ve failed You and my brother yet again. Was I destined to stumble through life? Oh, Lord, Lord, surely, of all men, Moses has been the most humble. Surely he deserves to cross the Jordan River and walk in the pastures of Canaan, even if only for a day.
I understand why You are keeping me out. I deserve to remain in the desert. I deserved death for making that detestable golden calf! Am I not reminded of it every time I sacrifice a bullock? But, oh, Lord, my brother has been Your faithful servant. He loves You. No man is more humble than my brother.
Let the blame fall on me for being such a fool and being so weak a priest that I failed to see sin when it crouched ready to kill our hopes and dreams.
Be silent, and know that I am God!
Aaron swallowed hard, fear coursing through him. It would do no good to beg or argue. And he knew the rest as though spoken into his heart. The people had to know the cost of sin. In the eyes of God, all men and women were equal. Aaron was without excuse. And so was Moses.
Only God is holy and to be praised.
They returned together to the Tabernacle. Moses went inside and Aaron stood outside the veil, his heart heavy. He could hear Moses speaking softly, his words indistinct, his anguish clear. Aaron bowed his head, the pain in his chest suffocating.
My fault, Lord. My fault. What kind of high priest am I who fails at every turn of life and cannot see sin when it stands before him? Forgive me, Lord. My sins are ever before me. I have done what is evil in Your sight. You have judged me justly. Oh, if only You would purify me so that I could be clean like a newborn child. If only You would wash me clean of my sins and make me hear with renewed joy the promise of Your salvation!
He wiped his tears away quickly lest they fall on the chestpiece of his priestly garment. I must be clean. I must be clean!
Oh, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. God of all creation. How will I ever be clean, Lord? I am clean on the outside, but inside I feel like a grave of old bones. I am full of sin. And it poured over today, as from a fouled pot. Even when I offer the atonement sacrifice, I feel the sin in me. I fight against it, Lord, but it is still there.
Aaron heard Moses weeping. God had not changed His mind. The Promised Land was lost to both of them. Aaron covered his face, heartbroken.
Moses! Poor Moses.
Oh, God, hear my prayer. If You see me weaken, don’t let me succumb to sin again or cause trouble for my brother. Don’t let me stand up in pride and lead the people astray. O
h, God, I would rather You took my life than I give in to sin again!
Moses sent messengers to the king of Edom requesting permission to cross his land in order to lessen the distance to Canaan. Moses promised that the Israelites would not go through any field or vineyard, or drink water from any well. They would turn neither to the right nor to the left until they reached the trade route called the King’s Highway.
The king of Edom answered that he would not give permission, and if the Israelites tried to cross his land, he would march out and attack them with the sword. Moses sent messengers again with assurances that they would only go along the main road and would pay for any water their animals might need. Again, the king of Edom denied them passage and came out with a large army to make sure no attempt was made to cross his land.
The cloud moved from Kadesh, and Moses followed the Angel of the Lord along the boundary of Edom toward Mount Hor. Aaron walked beside his brother, desolate. When they camped, he performed the evening sacrifice. Depressed, he returned to his tent and carefully removed his priestly garments. Then he sat in the doorway and stared out. All day, while walking, he had felt the barrenness of the land around him. And now, sitting here, he remembered the fields of wheat in Egypt, the barley, the green pasturelands of Goshen.
We were slaves, he reminded himself. He thought about the taskmasters. He tried to remember how many times he had felt the lash on his back, and the heat of the desert sun beating down on him.
And the green . . . the smell of water filled with silt washing along the banks of the Nile . . . the ibises tipping their beaks in and drawing out fish . . .
Raising his head weakly, he looked up at the pillar of fire. God, help me. Help me.
And he heard the Voice again, soft yet firm.
Aaron waited all night and then rose in the morning and put on his priestly garments. He went to the Tabernacle, washed, and performed the morning sacrifice as usual. And then Moses came to him, Eleazar at his side. Moses took a slow breath, but could not speak. Eleazar looked perplexed.
Aaron put his hand out and gripped his brother’s arm. “I know, Moses. The Lord spoke to me, too. Yesterday, at sunset.”
Sons of Encouragement Page 18
