The Burial (Deuteronomy 34:1-)

 

Photo: Feri & Tasos (on unsplash.com)

The land he has been coming to these forty years is spread before him like a woman waiting for his touch. He doesn’t feel his age, almost forgets the trials and the dust along the long way home. So many buried by the roadside where they fell, so many born along the roadside--now princes and priests, drawers of water, hewers of wood. They never heard the Great Ventriloquist but through his mouth, yet they will cross the river and possess the land. And then they will forget, cavort with godlets, and be taught regret.

If he could go, he would remind them every day, and if they went astray he’d plead their case before The One Above! Please let me cross.

He’s seen the Lord, he’s heard his voice, he never asked for chosenness, but there it was: the stutterer pushed front and centre, made to slay Pharao’s children with his tongue. Did it mean nothing?!

No one is perfect, and he struck the rock and spoke too harshly to God’s children, and he killed a man. He’s learned his lesson, he will be a shining star, a better leader, faithful and humble and true. Please let me cross.

Shhh! Look how beautiful it is. Let go, your people have to make their own mistakes. See how the sun plays in the river, how the green hills flow toward the sea, how the Willow bends to kiss the soil.

Please.

Die, Moses. I have loved you much.

Gently He takes the body, like a mother her dead child. Sings it a lullaby, His still small voice made smaller by His grief. Buries His kindele under a bush.