Aaron watched them lift the charred bodies of his two elder sons and carry them away from the front of the Tabernacle. He faced the Tabernacle and didn’t look back. His chest ached, his throat burned. Would Nadab and Abihu be cast into the refuse for their sin?
The Voice spoke, still and quiet.
You and your descendants must never drink wine or any other alcoholic drink before going into the Tabernacle.
“Aaron.” Moses was speaking to him, and Aaron tried to absorb his instructions. “Aaron.” Aaron and his younger sons were to remain where they were and complete their duties. They were to eat the leftovers from the offerings of grain and the goat of the sin offering. Aaron did all Moses instructed, but neither he nor his two sons could eat. The smell of burning meat made Aaron’s gorge rise, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from vomiting.
Moses’ face was red with anger. “Why didn’t you eat the sin offering in the sanctuary area?” he demanded. “It is a holy offering! It was given to you for removing the guilt of the community and for making atonement for the people before the Lord. Since the animal’s blood was not taken into the Holy Place, you should have eaten the meat in the sanctuary area as I ordered you.”
Aaron groaned. “Today my sons presented both their sin offering and their burnt offering to the Lord.” He swallowed convulsively. “This kind of thing has also happened to me.” He fought his rising emotions, trembling under the strain. “Would the Lord have approved if I had eaten the sin offering today?” When sin lurked so close at hand, waiting to prey on his shattered family and sink its teeth into his weakened heart? My sons, he wanted to cry out. My sons! Have you forgotten my sons died today? He would have choked on the meat of the sin offering and defiled the sanctuary.
Nadab’s words had come back over and over to haunt him all day: “We will honor the Lord in our own way, Father. Just as you have.”
With a golden calf and a feast day of pagan celebration.
Even after the atoning sacrifices, Aaron still felt his sins heavy upon him. If only the Lord would erase them forever. If only . . .
Moses looked on Aaron with compassion and said no more.
Aaron was with Moses when Moses invited Hobab, Jethro’s son, to go with them to the Promised Land. “Stay with us, Hobab. Make your life with God’s chosen people, Israel.”
When Hobab left the camp, Aaron had a sick feeling in his stomach that they would meet Hobab again, under less than friendly circumstances. All the while the Midianite remained camped close by, Aaron had wondered if Hobab was merely watching for their weaknesses and how to make use of them.
“I hope we do not see him again.”
Moses looked at him and Aaron said no more. His brother had spent many years with the Midianites and had deep affection and respect for his father-in-law. Aaron could only hope Moses knew these people as well as he thought he did and no threat would come from them. For what would Moses do if he ever found himself torn between the Israelites and his wife’s family? For forty years, the Midianites had treated Moses with love and respect, even making him a member of their family. The Israelites had given Moses grief, rebellion, constant complaints, and work; then they made him a slave to them.
Worry seemed a constant companion these days. Aaron worried about Moses’ health, his stamina, his family. Zipporah was near death. The only good that had come of her illness was the softening in Miriam, who often tended her now. Aaron also worried about getting things right. So far, he had made one mistake after another. He studied the laws Moses wrote down, knowing they were straight from God. But sometimes, when he was tired, he would think of his dead sons and the tears would come up, quick and hot. He had loved them, even knowing their sins. And he could not help feeling he had failed them more than they had failed him.
The people were complaining again. They couldn’t seem to remember from one day to the next what the Lord had already done for them. They were like children, whining with every discomfort. It was the Egyptian rabble who traveled with them that caused the most trouble now.
“We’re sick of nothing at all to eat except this manna!”
“Oh, for some meat!”
“We remember all the fish we used to eat for free in Egypt.”
“And we had all the cucumbers and melons we wanted. They were so good.”
“And the leeks and onions and garlics.”
“But now our appetites are gone, and day after day we have nothing to eat but this manna!”
Aaron said nothing as he gathered his portion of manna for the day. He squatted and picked up the flakes, putting them into his container. Eleazar was scowling. Ithamar moved a little farther off.
Miriam was red-faced. “Maybe you should have stayed in Egypt!”
A woman glared. “Maybe we should have!”
“Fish and cucumbers,” Miriam muttered under her breath. “We were lucky to have enough to eat at all. Just enough to keep us working.”
“I am sick of eating the same thing every day.”
Miriam straightened. “You should be thankful. You don’t have to work for your food!”
“You don’t call this work? We’re down on our knees every morning, grubbing around for flakes of this stuff.”
“If only we had meat to eat!” An Israelite joined in the complaining.
“Oh, Mama, do we have to eat manna again?”
“Yes, poor baby, you do.”
The child began to whine and cry.
“Surely we were better off in Egypt!” The man spoke in a loud voice, knowing Aaron would hear.
Miriam glowered. “Aren’t you going to say something, Aaron? What are you going to do with these people?”
What did she want him to do? Call down fire from the mountain? He thought of his sons again, and his throat closed hot and dry. He knew Moses heard the people complaining. He saw what it was doing to his brother. “Don’t make more trouble than we already have, Miriam.” He was weary of all of them.
“I make trouble! If you’d listened to me about . . .”
He rose, staring at her. Did she realize how cruel and thoughtless she could be at times? The fire went out of her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She lowered her head. He loved his sister, but sometimes he could not abide her. He took his container and walked away.
Moses came outside the Tabernacle. Aaron went to him. “You look tired.”
“I am tired.” Moses shook his head. “So tired of trouble I asked the Lord to kill me and have done with it.”
“Do not speak so.” Did Moses think Aaron would do any better? God forbid Moses should die. Aaron never wanted to be left in charge again.
“You need not worry, my brother. God said no. The Lord has given instructions that seventy men be chosen, men known to us as leaders and officials among the people. They are to come here before the Tabernacle, and the Spirit of the Lord will fall on them and they will help lead God’s people. We need help.” He smiled. “You are older than I, my brother, and showing every day of your eighty-four years.”
Aaron laughed bleakly, and savored the relief. Two men could not bear the burden of six hundred thousand men on foot, not counting their wives and sons and daughters!
“And the Lord will send meat.”
“Meat?” How? From where?
“Meat for a whole month, until we gag and are sick of it, because the people have rejected the Lord.”
Sixty-eight men came to the Tabernacle. As Moses laid hands on each man, the Spirit of the Lord came on each new leader and he spoke the Word of the Lord as Moses did.
Joshua came running. “Eldad and Medad are prophesying in the camp! Moses, my master, make them stop!”
“Are you jealous for my sake? I wish that all the Lord’s people were prophets, and that the Lord would put His spirit upon them all!”
Aaron heard the sound of wind coming out from the cloud over the Tabernacle. He felt the warmth of it lift his beard and press his priestly robes close to his body. And then it moved above and away. A
aron returned to his duties in the Tabernacle, but kept apprehensive watch on the sky.
Quail flew in from the sea, thousands of them. The wind drove them in a flurry of feathers straight down into the camp until they were piled up three feet deep on the ground. All that day and night, the people gathered birds, ringing their necks and stripping them of feathers in their haste for meat. Some didn’t even wait to roast the quail before sinking their teeth into the flesh they craved.
Aaron heard the groans and feared he knew what was coming. Groans turned to wails as men and women sickened before the meat was even consumed. They fell to their knees, bent over, vomiting. Some died quickly. Others, as they suffered, cursed God for giving them the very thing they had demanded. Thousands repented, crying out to the Lord to forgive them. But the quail kept coming as the Lord had promised. Day after day, until the people were silent and filled with dread of the Lord.
After a month, the cloud lifted from the Tabernacle. Aaron entered the Most Holy Place and covered and packed the lampstand, table of the Bread of the Presence, and the incense altar. The Tent of Meeting and the Tabernacle were dismantled, packed, and the clans of Levites carried what the Lord had assigned to them. At Moses’ signal, two men blew trumpets. The people gathered.
“Rise up, O Lord!” Moses’ voice boomed. “May Your enemies be scattered; may Your foes flee before You!”
The Ark of the Covenant was lifted by four men. Moses walked ahead, his eyes on the Angel of the Lord who led him. The people left the place that had come to be called Graves of Craving. They traveled day and night until the cloud stopped at Hazeroth.
Moses held his arms up in praise. “Return, O Lord! To the countless thousands of Israel.”
The Ark of the Covenant was set down. The Tabernacle was set up around it. Aaron placed the holy items in their proper places, as his sons and the heads of the Gershon, Kohath, and Merari clans of Levites finished putting up the poles and curtains, the altar for the burnt offerings, and the bronze basin.
And the people rested.
Aaron wanted to close his eyes and not think about anything for a little while, but Miriam was upset and would not allow him any peace. “I’ve come to accept Zipporah.” She paced, agitated, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been the one taking care of her all this time. I’ve been the one seeing to her needs. Not that she has shown any particular appreciation. She has never tried to learn our language. She still relies on Eliezer to translate.”
Aaron knew why she was upset. He, too, had been surprised when Moses told him he was taking another wife, but he had not seen fit to comment on it. Miriam had never had such inhibitions, though Aaron doubted she had spoken to Moses yet.
“He needs a wife, Miriam, someone who can see to the needs of his household.”
“A wife? Why does Moses need a wife other than Zipporah when he has me? I saw to everything before that Cushite entered his tent. He welcomed my help in the beginning. So that I could take care of his wife! Zipporah couldn’t do anything without help. And now that she’s dying, he’s taken another wife! Why does he need a wife at his age? You should’ve talked him out of this marriage before he took that foreigner into his tent. You should’ve said something to keep him from sinning against the Lord!”
Had Moses sinned? “I too was surprised when Moses told me.”
“Just surprised?”
“He’s not so old he doesn’t need the comfort of a woman.” Aaron sometimes wished he could take another wife, but after mediating between the mother of his sons and Miriam for years, he decided it was wiser to remain chaste!
“Moses seldom spent time with Zipporah, and now he has this woman.” Miriam threw her hands in the air. “I wonder if he listens to what the Lord says. If he must have a wife—and I don’t see why he must at his age—he should have chosen a wife from among the women of the tribe of Levi. Hasn’t the Lord told us not to marry outside our tribes? Have you seen how foreign that Cushite is? She is black, Aaron, blacker than any Egyptian I ever saw.”
Aaron had been troubled about Moses’ marriage, but not for Miriam’s reasons. The woman had been a slave to one of the Egyptians who had come with the people out of Egypt. Her mistress had died during the festival of the golden calf, and the Cushite had continued to travel among the people. As far as Aaron knew, she bowed down before the Lord. But still . . .
“Why do you just sit and say nothing, Aaron? You are a servant of the Lord, aren’t you? You are His high priest. Has the Lord spoken only through Moses? Didn’t the Lord direct me when I spoke to Pharaoh’s daughter? Did the Lord not give me the words? And the Lord called you, Aaron. You have heard His voice and spoken His word to the people more often than Moses! I have never known Moses to show so little wisdom.”
Aaron hated when his sister was like this. He felt like a little boy again, ruled by his older sister, overpowered by her personality. She had a will of iron. “You should be pleased that you will have less work to do.”
“Pleased? Maybe I would be if he hadn’t married a Cushite! Don’t you care that Moses brings sin on all of us by this unwholesome marriage?”
“What is unwholesome about it?”
“You have to ask?” She pointed angrily. “Just go out to his tent and look at her! She should go back to her own people. She does not belong among us, let alone have the honor of being the wife of Israel’s deliverer!”
Aaron wondered if he should talk to Moses. Truly, he had been taken aback when Moses took a Cushite slave woman into his tent. Perhaps he should speak with some of the elders before he approached his brother. What did the people think of Moses’ marriage? Miriam would not keep her thoughts to herself for long.
Doubts filled Aaron. Miriam had tried to warn him about Nadab and Abihu, and he hadn’t listened to her. Was he making another mistake now by not listening to his sister and standing against Moses’ decision to marry again?
Go out to the Tabernacle, all three of you!
The hair rose on the back of Aaron’s neck. He raised his head, in fear of that Voice.
Miriam straightened and tilted her chin. Her eyes glowed. “The Lord has called me to the Tabernacle. And you as well, if I can tell by the look on your face.” She walked out of the tent. Standing in the sunlight, she looked back at him. “Well? Are you coming or not?”
Moses was waiting for them, perplexed. The cloud swirled overhead and compressed, descending.
Miriam looked up, her face flushed and tense with excitement. “You’ll see now, Aaron.”
He shook as the pillar of cloud stood at the entrance of the Tabernacle, and the Voice came from within the cloud.
Now listen to Me! Even with prophets, I the Lord communicate by visions and dreams. But that is not how I communicate with My servant Moses. He is entrusted with My entire house. I speak to him face to face, directly and not in riddles! He sees the Lord as He is. Should you not be afraid to criticize him?
The pillar of thick mist rose, and Aaron felt the deep anguish of his sin once more. He hung his head, ashamed.
Miriam drew in her breath in a soft shriek. Her face and hands were streaked white like a stillborn baby coming from its mother’s womb, her flesh half eaten away. She fell to her knees, screaming and throwing dirt over her head.
“Ohhhh!” Aaron wailed in terror. He turned to Moses, hands outstretched, shaking. “Oh, my lord! Please don’t punish us for this sin we have so foolishly committed.” Fear ran cold in his veins.
Horrified, Moses was already crying out to the Lord, begging for mercy on behalf of his older sister.
And the Voice came for all three to hear:
If her father had spit in her face, wouldn’t she have been defiled for seven days? Banish her from the camp for seven days, and after that she may return.
Sobbing, Miriam fell to her knees and prostrated herself before the Lord. Her outstretched sickly white hands became strong and brown again, worn from years of hard work. She put her hands near Moses’ feet, but did not touch him. Aaron bent
toward her, but Miriam drew back sharply. “You mustn’t touch me!” She rose clumsily and backed away. The leprosy was gone, but her dark eyes were awash with tears and her cheeks red with humiliation. She drew her veil across her face and bent toward Moses. “Forgive me, Brother. Please forgive me.”
“Oh, Miriam, my sister . . .”
Aaron felt her shame like a mantle on his own back. He should have told her to be silent, to stop gossiping about anyone, especially Moses, whom God had chosen to deliver Israel. Instead, he had allowed himself to be swayed by her words and had joined in her rebellion.
People had come out of their tents and stood staring. Some came closer to see what was going on. “Unclean!” Miriam cried out as she hurried toward the edge of the camp. “I’m unclean!” The people drew back from her as though she carried plague. Some wailed. Children fled for their mother’s tent. “Unclean!” Miriam ran, stumbling in her shame, but did not fall.
Aaron’s throat tightened. Was he destined to fail the Lord, to fail Moses in everything he did? When he didn’t listen, Abihu and Nadab died. When he did listen, his sister bore the leprosy of his lack of perception. He should be the one living outside the camp! He had known better than to heed her jealousy. Instead, he had given in to her. He had allowed her to fan his own unanswered dreams of leadership. Every time he tried to step out ahead, disaster fell not only on him, but on those he loved.
“Aaron.”
The tenderness in his brother’s voice made Aaron’s heart ache even more. “Why did God spare me when it was as much my sin as hers?”
“Would you have grieved as deeply if the discipline had fallen on you? Your heart is soft, Aaron.”
“And so is my head.” He looked at his brother. “I wanted her to sway me, Moses. I have struggled with my role as the older brother who must stand aside for his younger. I have not wanted to feel these things, Moses, but I’m just a man. Pride is my enemy.”
“I know.”
“I do love you, Moses.”
“I know.”
Aaron shut his eyes tightly. “And now, Miriam suffers while I go about my priestly duties.”