“Caleb!”
At the sound of Jerahmeel’s annoyed voice, Caleb lowered the omer and held it against his chest, eyes closed, teeth clenched.
“We’re on the move again! Though who but Moses can guess where we’re going this time. As if there’s a better place than this to rest . . .” Jerahmeel’s complaining faded as he stalked away.
The cloud was moving now. In its changing shape, Caleb imagined its folds like an eagle with outspread wings, floating, head down watching them, not as prey but as sheltered offspring.
“Caleb! Are you going to just stand there? They’re moving!”
And will You please change a few others as well?
The people rose up in anger when they reached Rephidim, for there was no water. Caleb and his wife had given their water to their sons, and were as thirsty as everyone else. His relatives gave him no rest.
“It was your idea to follow this God. . . .”
“Where’s the better life you promised?”
“I’m thirsty, Abba.”
“How long before we get there?”
“Ask your abba where there is.”
Caleb left them and sat among the rocks at the base of the high mountain. If he was going to die, he wanted to do it in peace and not surrounded by grumbling Israelites or relatives blaming him for every discomfort. Still, he heard the multitude crying out in the distance. Pressing his hands over his ears, he tried to shut out the angry shouting. His own wrath mounted, his heart pounding fast, his blood rushing hot and heavy.
How soon they all forget what You can do! You made the Nile run with blood. You brought forth plagues; You killed Egypt’s livestock with pestilence. You covered the people with boils, destroyed the land with hail and fire, and killed the firstborn from Pharaoh on down, all the while sparing the animals and lives of those who belong to You. And still that madman Pharaoh changed his mind and came after us!
But You opened the sea, made a dry pathway across, then closed it again over Pharaoh’s army, washing them away like dust before a windstorm. The sea. The Nile. The river of life . . . no. No! Who but a fool would long for that place of slavery and death?
Water, Lord. Please. Water is a small thing, but we will die without it. Oh, hear us, God who commands the heavens and the earth. Help us!
Tongue parched, throat closing, his skin so dry he felt his body shrinking, he closed his eyes. If not for the cloud overhead, Caleb knew he would have perished already, baked in the heat, dried out like a Nile fish on a rack.
Why am I still alive? What is the purpose in all this suffering? I don’t understand You. Did You set us free only to allow us to die of thirst? It makes no sense. Water, Lord. Oh, God of might and mercy, please, give us water. I don’t believe You brought us out here to die. I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it!
The cries of the mob suddenly changed to screams of excitement and exultation. Trembling from weakness, Caleb stood and took a few steps so he could see what was happening. Water gushed from a rock in the side of the mountain, forming a stream that raced down and pooled. Thousands sank to their knees and fell forward onto their hands to thrust their faces into the water and drink like animals. Another miracle! Another, just when they needed it most.
Stumbling, Caleb made his way down the rocky slope. Pressing his way through the celebrants, his gaze never leaving the rock that flowed water, he squatted, cupped his hands, and drank. The Rock itself was the well of life-giving water. The stream flowed straight from the stone, fresh and clear and cool. As Caleb drank deeply, he felt his body renewed, strengthened, revitalized. Closing his eyes, he held the precious water and washed his face, longing to immerse himself in it.
As the people were quenching their thirst, Caleb heard shouting.
“The Amalekites are attacking! They are killing the stragglers!”
Moses called for Joshua. People cried out again, frightened this time.
“They’ll soon be upon us!”
“We have no army to fight against the Amalekites!”
Caleb rose, dripping, and ran to his camp. He rummaged through the possessions he had brought from Egypt until he found his scythe. “Come on.” He raised his farm implement and called to his brothers. “Fight for our brothers!”
“We’re not soldiers.” Jerahmeel stood back. “We’re farmers.”
Caleb faced him, angry. “Should not a farmer fight for his neighbors?”
“Who is my neighbor?”
There was no time to stand and argue. People were dying! Turning his back on his father and brothers, Caleb ran after Joshua. Others had gathered with Moses’ young servant. Moses had already given instructions and now climbed the mountain, his brother, Aaron, on one side and his friend Hur on the other.
Caleb peered through the crowd to the man in its center. Joshua looked so young and nervous. The men around him were tense, shifting, uncertain. Caleb felt uneasy. What did he know about fighting against a trained enemy?
He remembered what God had done for them already. The Lord, He would protect them. The Lord, He would give them victory. I will believe that. I will set my mind upon Him. I will proclaim my faith before these men loud enough that they will all hear and know I am for the Lord!
“Let me through!” Lowering his head, Caleb shoved his way through the crowd until he stood before Joshua. “We are God’s to command, Joshua. And the Lord has designated you to lead.” Caleb looked around and raised his voice. “God will fight for us! He did not bring us out into this desert to be picked off by cowardly marauders who kill the weak and helpless, nor by any who bow down to false gods!” Baring his teeth in a grin, Caleb stared Joshua in the eye. “Command us as God commands you. The battle is the Lord’s!”
Joshua’s eyes shone with sudden fierceness. He let out a shout and the others joined with him.
And so they went out into battle armed with farm implements and threshing tools, while three old men stood on the mountain praying.
And God gave them victory.
After the triumph came the lingering stillness. Caleb waited along with thousands of others camped at the base of the mountain while Moses went up to meet with the Lord. Days passed, and long nights of quiet and question.
Waiting proved a greater test than taking up arms against the enemy.
TWO
Caleb sat in misery, staring up at the mountain. Here I sit, coward that I am, an outsider again. He hung his head.
Washed, adorned in clean garments, consecrated, he had stood with the multitude, eager to hear the Lord. He had heard God blow the shofar blast. The sound of it, long and heavy, had rattled his chest. A consuming fire had flared from the mountaintop, along with a thunderous roar. He had fled in terror. Like stampeding sheep, thousands had run. And like the others, he had cowered at a distance. Let Moses listen to God and tell them what He said.
Moses was on the mountain again, but this time he had taken the elders with him, including Zimri from the tribe of Judah. Joshua, too, had been summoned.
Mortified by his own cowardice, Caleb spoke to no one. He knew he had missed his chance to be close to God. Covering his face, he wept.
When Aaron and the elders returned, Caleb went to hear what Zimri had to tell the sons of Judah.
“We saw the God of Israel; under His feet there was a pavement of sapphire, as clear as the sky itself.” Zimri shook with excitement, his eyes shining. “And He did not stretch out His hand against us. We ate and drank in praise of Him. And then the Lord called Moses up the mountain. God will give him the laws we are to live by.”
“Where is Joshua? What happened to him?”
“Joshua went up the mountain with Moses. We could see them both as they went up. Then they stopped and waited for six days. On the seventh, the mountain caught fire and Moses went into the cloud and disappeared. Joshua is still up there waiting for him.”
“Are Moses and Joshua alive?”
“God only knows.”
“Before Moses went up, he told us
to wait, and we did wait.”
“Did they take anything up with them? Food? Water?”
“Nothing.”
Days passed, then weeks. The people grew restless. Moses was surely dead. Why were they still camped in this desolate place? Why didn’t they return to Egypt? They need not fear going back now. Surely, after all the plagues, the Egyptians would be in fear of them?
“Why should they fear us?” Caleb remonstrated with his family. “We did not bring the plagues. God did!”
“We should get out of here before he decides to kill us the way he’s killed Moses.”
“We don’t know that Moses is dead.”
Jerahmeel stood. “He’s been gone a month, Caleb! He’s an old man, and he went up that mountain without food and water. What do you think has happened to him?”
“He lived in Midian forty years before he returned to Egypt. That old man knows how to survive in the desert.”
Hezron stood between them. “Kelubai, you were right in leading us to Goshen. We are free from slavery. But now, it is time to go back to Egypt or go on to Canaan. We cannot stay here forever.”
Caleb clenched his hands. “Why not? We have water. We have manna.”
“What sort of a life is this?” Jerahmeel raged. “I’m sick of manna. The sweetness of it sticks in my throat.”
“In Egypt, you never knew from one day to the next if you would have bread to eat!”
Jerahmeel turned to the others. “We should go back to Egypt. They fear us. Even the gods fear us. We can fashion gods and show that we have returned as brothers.”
Caleb sneered. “Return to gods who had no power to protect themselves?”
“And what good is this god doing for us now? We sit and wait. Weeks we have waited. Are we to live the rest of our lives at the base of this mountain?”
“Go then, and see how far you get without His protection.”
“We won’t be going alone, Caleb. Everywhere I turn, others are saying the same thing I am saying. Even that old man you follow around, Zimri, has gone with others to speak to Aaron.”
“And what does Aaron say?”
“At first he said to wait. Now he says nothing.”
Caleb went outside. He couldn’t abide the air inside the tent any longer. He looked up at the mountain. Nothing had changed. The cloud remained, surges of light flashing from within. Why would God kill Moses? What sense did that make? And yet, if the old man hadn’t died, why did he linger up there? And where was Joshua?
He clenched his fist. “I will not believe You brought us out here only to abandon us. I won’t believe it.”
“Kelubai?”
Azubah stood at the doorway. She came to him hesitantly, her gaze troubled. “Why are you so determined to believe in this God?”
“What is the alternative?”
“Return to Egypt.”
“Yes, and I would rather my sons die here than go back to that place of death.”
“It will be different this time, Kelubai.”
“Woman, you speak of things you do not understand.”
Her chin jutted. “Ah, yes, as you understand this God. As you understand why we must remain here, day after day, waiting for no one knows what.”
“You would do better to listen to me rather than my brother.”
“I listen to you, but you would do better to listen to your father.” She went back into the tent.
Frustrated, Caleb walked away into the night. How he longed to climb that mountain and find out for himself what had happened to Moses. But there was a boundary set; the mountain was sacred ground. He would not set foot upon it.
Wandering among the clustered camps, Caleb heard others talking. Jerahmeel had spoken the truth. He was not the only man counseling a return to Egypt. It was near dawn when he returned to his tent, exhausted and disheartened, and went to bed.
Azubah awakened him. “Messengers came through camp, my husband. Aaron has called for the men to bring him a pair of gold earrings from each wife, son, and daughter.” She had already collected the earrings in a cloth.
“What for?”
“Does it matter? Your father and brothers wait outside.”
“Hurry!” Jerahmeel appeared at the entrance to the tent. “Baskets are set outside Aaron’s tent, and they are overflowing with gold earrings. Some put in necklaces and bracelets.”
“Give whatever you want.” Angry, Caleb turned over on his pallet. He was too tired and despondent to care why Aaron had asked for gold.
He found out soon enough. Word spread. All were to come and worship before the Lord. Caleb went eagerly, his family with him. Shocked, he found himself standing before a golden calf much like those he had seen in Egypt. This one was far from the svelte beasts set upon pedestals in Egypt. “Where did it come from?”
“Aaron made it for us.”
“Aaron?” He couldn’t believe Moses’ brother would make such a thing. But there he was, standing before the gathering, presiding over it, calling for offerings to the God who had brought them out of Egypt.
This cannot be! Confused, Caleb drew back.
The people bowed down and presented offerings. Azubah and Caleb’s sons, his brothers and father went forward. No one trembled and shook before this god. Instead, they rose up to laugh and dance and celebrate. Aaron proclaimed a feast. Caleb didn’t know what to do. Sick and confused, he returned to his tent.
Music filled the camp. Then shrieking and laughter. Azubah came in and lay down beside him, her eyes dark. She smelled of incense and tasted of wine. “This is better, isn’t it?” She moved over him, wanton, eager.
Caleb caught his breath. Maybe it was better not to think about a God he couldn’t understand. But, somehow, this didn’t feel right. He wanted to push her away, but she kissed him. His senses swam. She was his wife, after all. Surely, there was nothing wrong in this. Maybe it was better not to trouble himself with inexplicable feelings of shame and guilt. “Azubah . . .”
“Love me.”
Why should he feel guilty? Maybe it was better to live and not think at all. God, God. No. He would not think of God right now. Not now. Grasping Azubah’s flowing hair, he took what she offered, surrendering himself to the fire in his belly. Passion rose, crested, and evaporated, leaving in its wake a sense of shame and bewilderment. Caleb lay in the darkness, with Azubah, sated, asleep beside him. Never had he felt so unclean.
The camp was in an uproar. “What’s going on now?” His wife slept on, the effects of the wine deadening her to sound and light. She would have a headache when she awakened. Caleb dressed and went outside.
Moses had returned! He strode through the camp, shouting.
“He destroyed the stone tablets!”
Caleb caught hold of a man running away. “What stone tablets?”
“The ones on which God wrote the laws we were to follow!”
Caleb ran toward the screaming. Moses climbed onto the platform and pushed the calf off its stand. “Burn it.” His face was red, his eyes filled with wrath. “Grind it into powder. Spread it over the drinking water.”
The people were out of control, some drunk and unwilling to give up their pleasure taking, others screaming defiance.
Caleb felt the gathering storm. Aaron was running. He shouted, and others from his tribe of Levi raced to stand behind Moses. Some had swords and drew them.
With sudden understanding, Caleb cried out. He saw his sons among the crowd gathering against Moses.
“Mesha! Mareshah! Jesher! Come out from among those people. Shobab! Ardon! Come to me. Hurry!” His sons wove their way through the crowd, eyes wide. He ran to meet them, grabbed them, and dove to the ground. When they cried out in panic and tried to rise and run, he yanked them down. “Bow down before the Lord. Bow down!”
Screams of rage and death came all around him. Someone stepped over him. Metal struck metal, words exchanged, a gurgling cry, a thud. His heart pounded. Reason kept him on his face. “Forgive us, Lord. Forgive us. God, for
give us.”
If this was Moses’ fury vented, what could God in His wrath do?
When a man fell dead beside them, Ardon screamed and tried to rise. Caleb yanked him down again, sliding half over him to hold him to the ground. “Mercy, Lord! Mercy!” His sons sobbed in terror. “Pray for forgiveness! Pray!” Caleb ordered them.
“God, forgive us . . .”
“God, forgive . . .”
Would the Lord hear such soft cries amidst the chaos of terror surging all around them?
The battle was soon over. Sobs and wailing rose.
Jerahmeel lay dead near his tent. So, too, another brother. Their wives lay dead nearby. Hezron sat at the opening of his tent, rocking back and forth, face ashen, his garments torn in grieving. When Azubah came outside, bleary-eyed, and saw what had happened, she wailed and threw dust into the air. Silent, Caleb commanded his sons to help him carry the bodies outside the camp for burial.
Would his family blame him for the deaths? Would they cry out against him because he had fought so hard to come with the Israelites and follow after their God? Would they want to turn back now?
When he returned to his tent, he found everyone silent. No one looked at him, not even his wife and sons. “You blame me for their deaths, don’t you?”
“We should have turned back when we had the chance.”
“Turned back to what, Father? Slavery?”
“My sons are dead!”
My brothers, Caleb wanted to add, but he hunkered down and spoke gently. “We must give honor only to the God who delivered us.”
“Should we not have choice in which god we worship?”
He looked at Azubah. “Will my own wife turn against me? Not one, not all of the gods of Egypt could stand against the Lord God of Israel.” She disgusted him. He disgusted himself.
“Aaron made the golden calf and Aaron still lives.”
“Yes, Father, because he ran to Moses when asked where he stood. Had my brothers bowed down before the Lord, they would still be alive. But instead, they chose to defy God and Moses. They chose death over life.”
Sons of Encouragement Page 24
