Miriam (34 page)

During the night Pharaoh summoned Moses and Aaron and said, “Up! Leave my people, you and the Israelites! Go, worship the
L
ORD
as you have requested. Take your flocks and herds, as you have said, and go. And also bless me.”

—
E
XODUS 12:31–32

M
iriam's wedding had truly been a celebration. Her whole family surrounded her, laughing and chatting as the night grew dark and the stars grew bright. Everyone took a turn spinning the lamb on the spit, the large cook fire nearly baking them all. The pungent aromas of herbs, bread, and lamb ripened their hunger to sweet expectancy.

Moses went to the window and searched the sky. “The moon is too high to see from the window, which means the plague should be—” A neighbor's scream pierced the night air, and Moses bowed his head. “Yahweh, pass over us.”

Every eye turned to Nadab, whose face went pale. Elisheba squeezed his hand and pushed herself to her feet, weeping and moving her lips without a sound. It was the first time Miriam had seen her sister-in-law pray.

Miriam used Hur's shoulder to push herself to stand. The others rose to their feet as well, following Yahweh's commands. More shrieks echoed outside as those in Miriam's home donned their sandals and tucked their robes into their belts. The men grabbed their walking sticks, while Miriam and Elisheba hurried to set out the food they'd been waiting to serve.

Elisheba's forehead was beaded with sweat. “I don't know if the lamb is cooked through.”

An Egyptian mother's wail tore at Miriam's heart. She closed her eyes and placed a calming hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. “Yahweh said we would eat in haste. He knew how much time we'd have to cook the lamb.” Elisheba nodded and began carving the meat onto a platter to cool while Miriam distributed clay cups and plates to everyone. Baskets of bread and bitter herbs filled every space of Miriam's sleeping mat, used tonight for the family's meal.

Miriam pulled out the wineskin Hur contributed. “A gift from my son for our wedding,” Hur announced, emotion clipping his words. “Yahweh, pass over my boy Uri.” Tears blurred Miriam's vision as she filled everyone's cup. She squeezed the last drops of wine into Hur's cup, leaving her own cup empty.

“Here, beloved, take mine.” Hur reached for her empty cup, but she stilled his hand.

“Please, no. I'll drink water.” She took her place between him and Taliah. “I drank my cup of joy when I became your wife.”

Elisheba hurried from where she stood between Nadab and Abihu and retrieved a water pitcher to fill Miriam's cup. Surprised, but grateful, Miriam nodded her thanks.

Moses lifted his cup and the others followed. “Yahweh has said, ‘I will bring My people out.' ”

They echoed his words, “I will bring My people out.”

As the men tipped their cups, Miriam noted the dried lamb's blood still caked around their nails. “Wait, I'll get a bowl of water to wash our hands.” She hurried to the task and draped a towel over her shoulder, waiting before each person as they dipped their hands in the water and dried them.

Miriam washed her hands last. Plunging her hands into the water, she thought of the many bloody bowls she'd dipped her hands into—the thousands of wounded slaves she'd tended.
Freedom, Yahweh. What will it be like?

Moses leaned over to retrieve three small loaves of bread from a basket and lifted the middle loaf. “These three signify Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The middle of anything signifies the heart.” He broke the middle loaf into two pieces. “When Abraham was willing to sacrifice Isaac, it broke Isaac's heart—but both father and son were willing and obedient to follow Yahweh.” Moses let silence massage his message into their souls. “Obedience to Yahweh is seldom an easy path, but it is ultimately the only path to freedom.” He passed the bread around the circle, and each one took a piece, devouring both the bread and its significance.

Moses lifted his wine cup again. “Yahweh said to Abraham, ‘Your descendants will be strangers in a foreign land for four hundred years, enslaved and mistreated, but I, Yahweh, will free My people.' ”

His words sent a shiver down Miriam's spine, and the cool drink of water chilled her insides. She tasted salty tears as they ran down her cheeks and tried to imagine what tomorrow might be like.

Moses reached for the bitter herbs from the basket and stuffed several leaves into his mouth. He chewed, grimaced, and everyone chuckled. Miriam and the others followed his lead. The pungent greens typically accompanied a meal, made palatable by sweet fruits or roasted nuts. But when eaten alone, their bitterness couldn't be diminished, ignored, or masked. The tongue must endure the assault as Israel had borne slavery all these years.

A father's cry joined the wailing, and Miriam squeezed her eyes shut. Indeed, the bitterness of slavery had set Israel's teeth on edge for four hundred years.
Yahweh, pass over us.
She opened her eyes as Elisheba offered the platter of lamb in one hand and the basket of her honeyed bread in the other. Miriam thanked her for serving and Yahweh for His provision.

They stood ready to flee, as Yahweh commanded, eating solemnly, listening to the cries outside their door. Earlier this night, they'd celebrated each other, marriage, and freedom, but there would be no laughter or teasing now. Their deliverance was at hand—but at a great price.

Hur's arm circled Miriam's waist and he kissed the top of her head. “Freedom means a new life for us all—wherever Yahweh leads.”

The reminder of their uncertain path turned every eye to Moses. Did he know where Yahweh would lead? Miriam saw his discomfort but asked the question on everyone's mind. “Has Yahweh revealed the next step, Brother?”

Another Egyptian father joined the wailing, and Moses's eyes slid shut. He sighed before opening his eyes to speak. “Yahweh said Pharaoh would drive us out of Egypt, but how and when still hasn't been made clear.” The answer did little to reassure them. The wailing seemed louder. More shrieks filled the air. Moses's countenance remained calm. “Yahweh will protect us through this night.” He raised his wine once more. “Yahweh said, ‘I will redeem My people.' ”

Cries of mourning surrounded them. How could they endure it all night? Just then, Miriam remembered a special treasure one of the Egyptian families had given her. She quietly slipped from Hur's embrace and dug through a basket for the timbrels and found three. She gave one to Elisheba and one to Taliah and kept the last for herself.

With a single clap, Miriam began the familiar chorus she'd sung since childhood. “El Shaddai, You—” Realizing she'd used the name for God she'd used all her life, she hesitated.

Moses grinned and lifted his wine cup to her. “
Yahweh
will make us His treasured possession. He said, ‘I will take you as My very own people.' ” Moses drank and lifted his deep, baritone voice, beginning the chorus again with God's most intimate name. “Yahweh, You have been our dwelling place throughout all generations.”

Everyone joined in, the women clapping their timbrels and singing in the presence of Yahweh while He moved through the land judging the Egyptians and their gods. Occasionally, they'd stop, eat more bread, herbs, and meat until the wailing overcame them. Then they'd lift their voices and timbrels in song again, losing all sense of time. Miriam closed her eyes as she sang, allowing the music to lift her into Yahweh's presence. Her Yahweh. Israel's Yahweh.

Suddenly, Taliah shushed the group. “I think I hear horses coming.” Wide eyed, everyone stilled, waiting.

Moments later, the clanging of a chariot harness drew near, and a loud voice shouted over the mourning, “Pharaoh Ramesses summons Moses and Aaron. Show yourselves!” Repeatedly, the crier shouted the message as the chariot rolled down the first alley of Goshen's long houses.

Moses hurried through the curtained doorway. “I am Moses.” He ducked back inside the long house, baiting them.

Miriam snuggled close to Hur, while Eleazar laid Taliah against the wall behind him and covered her with a blanket.

An Egyptian prince sliced the curtain with his sword. “My father summons you to—” He nearly stumbled over his tongue when he saw Eleazar. “What are you…” Rattled, he paused, trying to gather his wits. The poor boy's eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and his bald head was exposed. He hadn't even taken time to don his wig. He wasn't much older than Hoshea. Settling his gaze on Miriam's brothers, he barked, “Are you Moses and Aaron?”

Moses nodded. “And which son are you?”

The question seemed to unsettle him further. “I am Prince Khaemwaset, second born of Isetneferet.” His cheeks quaked, and he pointed an accusing finger at Eleazar. “My brother Ram is dead because you let his wound fester.”

Eleazar stepped toward him. “Is that what Pharaoh told you, Khaem?”

“Yes, and it's true.” The prince stepped back and lifted his sword.

Moses lifted both hands, trying to settle the boy. “Did your father lie about all the firstborn deaths in Egypt? Surely, you realize Ram's death wasn't a result of Eleazar's negligence—but Yahweh's wrath.”

Like a caged beast, Khaem glanced from one Hebrew to another. “Pharaoh says the double portions of Canaanite grain given to firstborns must have been tainted.”

Miriam could stand it no longer. “Psshh, that's nonsense!” She waved her hand and stepped around Eleazar. “You are a grown man and can think for yourself, young Khaem. Check your slaves, your livestock. I'm sure the firstborns are dead, and they ate no Canaanite grain.”

Grinding his teeth, he spoke with barely controlled rage. “I need only check my newborn son's crib, woman. He ate no grain either.” He lifted his hand to strike her but hesitated, growled, and stormed out.

Moses spoke quickly. “Eleazar will escort Aaron and me to the palace. Nadab must stay inside the house to be safe, but Hur, Abihu, and Ithamar must get word to the elders. Our deliverance is at hand. Israel should be ready to depart by sunrise. We mustn't give Pharaoh a chance to change his mind again.”

Moses gave Hoshea son of Nun the name Joshua.

—
N
UMBERS 13:16

T
he journey to Pharaoh's palace was torture. Prince Khaem drove his chariot in front of the three Hebrews, kicking up dirt and sand in their faces, while his three guards followed behind them, pressing their pace beyond what Abba Aaron could manage.

Finally, they arrived at the palace, Eleazar nearly carrying Abba Aaron, who was panting from the harried journey. Prince Khaem led them directly to the throne hall, his sandals clapping on the marble tiles. The moment the grand ebony doors opened, Pharaoh's fury erupted.

“Dead! How could you take every firstborn from me?” He slammed his flail on the armrest and stood to await their arrival at the dais. “You've taken my strength, my life, my legacy!” Pharaoh may have publicly blamed firstborn deaths on tainted grain, but he knew the true source of Egypt's mourning.

Prince Khaem mounted the dais and took his new place at Ramesses's right shoulder. Two new Nubians guarded Pharaoh—evidently his previous guards had been firstborns. Standing utterly still, their eyes darted from the Hebrews to the sky as if expecting an attack from above.

Abba Aaron removed his arm from Eleazar's shoulder and stood at Moses's side. Eleazar stood behind and between them. The Hebrews offered no answer to Pharaoh's accusation.

No matter. Ramesses didn't expect one. “Leave my people, Moses. You and the Israelites, go worship Yahweh as you've requested. Take your flocks and herds, your wives and children.” He leaned forward and gritted his teeth. “But pray your god's blessing on me before you leave.”

Pharaoh's echo faded into the empty throne hall before Moses replied. “Every Israelite must leave Egypt—even the slaves in the armory.” He nodded to the key hanging around Prince Khaem's neck.

The prince stiffened as Pharaoh sat down on his throne, rubbing his chin violently while considering the request. Sweat formed on Eleazar's upper lip. Had Moses pushed too far? Would Pharaoh refuse again?

“Take everyone, and get out.” Ramesses waved his hand at Khaem. “Give him the key.”

Moses held out his hand, and Khaem, shaking with rage, unlatched his necklace and dropped the key into Moses's hand. “My brothers' blood is on your head.”

Moses stared at him unflinching. “Four hundred years of slavery cancelled that debt.” The Hebrews turned their backs on Egypt's king and left the throne hall in quiet victory.

No one dared speak until they reached the palace gates. Eyes followed them everywhere. Guards were posted at every door and atop the complex wall. When they reached the palace gate, Abba Aaron stumbled and nearly fell. Eleazar caught him and then checked the guards' reaction. No bows were drawn, only empty stares from a beaten people.

Abba braced his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “Please, I must rest a moment. My old legs can't run back to Goshen.”

Eleazar exchanged a grin with Moses. “We aren't going to Goshen. The armory is much closer.”

Abba Aaron's lips curved into a wry smile. “My legs are suddenly stronger.”

“That's because you're a free man.” Moses patted Abba's back. “Let's go.”

Moses began jogging to the armory.

“Wait for me!” Eleazar chuckled, surprised at his uncle's stamina.

“I'll catch up.” Abba Aaron hurried at his own pace.

Eleazar arrived at Moses's side, and his uncle teased, “I'm a shepherd, son. You Hebrew soldiers are soft.” His smile dimmed, and he checked the waning moon. “Everyone will be pushed beyond their strength to leave by sunrise, and that's only the beginning. Sinai will test us all.”

“Sinai.” Eleazar shook his head, thinking of Taliah. She could never climb Sinai's bluffs and plateaus in her condition. “The Hebrews have no idea what kind of terrain we're facing. Most of the slave soldiers that marched with Pharaoh's army are dead at Kopshef's hand.”

“That's why we're borrowing the wagons and tents. The elders have already assigned the tribal order of march and know where to meet at daybreak.” He cocked his head and winked. “What do you think we've been doing while you've been getting those weapons?”

Eleazar shook his head, newly amazed at the man Yahweh had chosen to deliver Israel. When Moses had mentioned the need for weapons, Eleazar's only concern had been the immediate hurdle of wrestling the key from Ram, but Moses had already been planning to defend against the desert tribes in the wilderness. That was the difference between wavering doubt and steadfast faith.

As they neared the armory, they passed a dead Egyptian guard on the path—then another. Eleazar recognized some of them as those who'd helped sacrifice lambs yesterday. He halted Moses before they reached the gate, assessing the Egyptians still guarding it. “Will they attack us in retaliation?”

One of the guards spotted them while he spoke and fell to his knees. “Take your people and go,” he shouted. “Leave us, or all of Egypt will die.” Other guards rushed toward Eleazar and Moses, begging them to leave.

Moses showed them the gate key, and they eagerly escorted them. Hands shaking, Moses nearly dropped the key in the dust.

Impatient, Eleazar shouted through the gates. “Hoshea? Are you there? Hoshea?”

No answer. They heard only wailing from inside.

Moses finally unlatched the heavy iron lock, and the Egyptians helped swing open the gates. The sparring arena was strewn with dead slaves and others who mourned them, but torchlight glowed in all four guardhouses.

“Hoshea!” Moses shouted, hurrying toward the nearest shelter. The curtain rustled, and Hoshea appeared in the doorway.

“Are we free?” Hoshea hesitated.

Tears burned Eleazar's eyes. “We're free.”

Hoshea ran from the guardhouse into Eleazar's embrace. Others poured from the shelters in numbers far exceeding his expectations. Hebrews first, and then foreign slaves walking gingerly. Eleazar held him at arm's length. “How many agreed to be circumcised?”

“Not many at first, but I told the Hebrews in each house to recite the ancient stories—Creation, Noah, and Abraham's journey—and the foreign soldiers listened from outside. Before midnight, many believed and filled the guardhouses.” Hoshea's wide-eyed wonder was infectious.

Moses shook Hoshea, eyes glistening. “You're no longer
Hoshea,
my boy, because you weren't merely
saved
as the name implies.” Wrapping his arm around the boy, he declared to the gathering crowd, “This man is now called
Yehoshua
—
Joshua
—because
Yahweh saved
all of you through his faithfulness.” A great roar rose among the soldiers, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Eleazar joined the victory cry, energy pumping through his weary body.

Moses shouted at Eleazar over the noise. “It's up to you to get weapons to every household in Goshen by the time we leave at dawn.”

“Not me,” Eleazar said, gripping Hoshea's shoulder. “The men have a new commander—Joshua.”

Joshua's eyes looked as big as the moon. “But you're the slave commander.”

“True, but I see no slaves here.” Eleazar spread his hands over the sea of rejoicing soldiers. “You rallied the men, and Yahweh saved their lives. It's you who will assign their defensive positions as Israel marches out of Egypt.”

Abba Aaron arrived then, covering his ears against the ruckus. “What did I miss?”

Eleazar patted Joshua's chest. “Abba, meet Israel's new military commander, Joshua.”

Abba's eyes sparkled, and he opened his arms, welcoming the young man who'd escorted him safely across the Sinai. “I can think of no one better to lead us—except perhaps my son.” He released Joshua and studied Eleazar. “What will you do now?”

“I'll return to Goshen with you. Those who have been too afraid to ask their Egyptian neighbors for gold, silver, and clothing should have no problem doing so now.”