By Way of the Wilderness (24 page)

Moses bowed his head and made a covenant with his God, knowing that God would forgive His people. But he also realized that the way to the promised land of milk and honey was going to be much longer than he had ever imagined.

“Miriam, what's wrong with Bezalel?” Shani asked one day.

Miriam looked up from the goatskins filled with milk that were attached to two small saplings. She swung them back and forth, making butter, and kept up the rhythm while studying the young girl's face. “I didn't know anything was wrong with him.”

“He's so quiet, and he doesn't tell me stories very much anymore.”

Miriam continued the rhythm, pushing the goatskin with one hand. With the other she tucked a loose curl up under the scarf she wore. She wanted to put the girl off, for she was always full of questions, but she felt this was too important to ignore. Ever since Bezalel had saved her from death, she had clung to him closely, which both troubled and pleased Miriam.

Finally she answered, “He's troubled about himself, Shani.”

“Why?”

“Because he thinks he's not a good man.”

Shani's oddly colored green eyes shone with anger. “He is
too
a good man!”

“I didn't say he wasn't. I said he doesn't
think
he is.”

“Why would he think that? He's good to me.”

Miriam laughed, reached over, and pulled the girl closer. She still seemed to be nothing but skin and bones, but Miriam knew that soon she would grow out of her awkwardness, blossom and fill out, and one day be a tall and beautiful woman. “He's worried about that golden calf that nearly brought us all to disaster.”

“Why's he worried about that?”

“Well … Aaron was wrong to build that idol, but at first he asked Bezalel to make it.”

“But he didn't do it.”

“No, he didn't, but he
almost
did, and that's what's been bothering him, I think.”

Shani's face assumed a stubborn set. “You can't blame yourself for something you
almost
did. It's what you
do
that matters.”

“Well, our people have very strong feelings about idols. The father of all of us, Abraham, was once an idolater. He lived in a land called Ur of the Chaldees, but when the Lord spoke to him, he gave up his idols to follow the one God. Even though Abraham showed us the truth we are to follow, our people have always had a weakness about turning back to idols whenever things get bad.”

Shani listened as Miriam spoke at length concerning the history of the Hebrews and their struggle against idolatry.

When Miriam finally stopped talking, Shani said, “I'm going to tell him that he hasn't done anything wrong.”

“No, don't bother him, Shani. Some things a person just has to work out alone. What he's trying to find out,” she said, her face growing sober and troubled, “is what kind of a man he's going to be. And God will help him to make the right choices!”

****

Bezalel had wandered away from the camp. He had taken his bow and a quiver of arrows with him on the off chance of seeing a deer or a coney that he might bring back for the pot. So far he had seen nothing except one bear that he was rather glad was far off in the distance. It occurred to him that he might pursue the beast and bring him down, but bears were bad business, especially a wounded one. Bezalel knew he was not the greatest archer in the world.
If Joshua or Caleb had been with me, we would have taken that beast,
he thought.

He shrugged his shoulders and headed eastward, his eyes on the far-distant mountains. The sky looked brittle enough to scratch with a stone, and there was not a single cloud in it except for the cloud that continually hung over the camp. It was a daily miracle to Bezalel that a cloud would lead such a multitude of people to their destination. He glanced at it now and saw the towering column rising high into the sky. It was stirred slightly by the wind but immediately resumed its shape.

As Bezalel walked along, he tried to push bad thoughts out of his mind—-thoughts that had troubled him ever since the incident of the golden calf. He could not understand why he was so shaken. He had, after all, made many idols for his Egyptian master. That had not troubled him in the least. He had known that no matter what the Egyptians said, the idols he made had nothing to do with human existence. He could not understand how anyone could be so stupid as to think that something a man made with his hands could control his life. He had laughed secretly with Oholiab behind the backs of the Egyptians, the two of them seeing a ridiculous situation in all of it.

Bezalel grew thirsty and started hunting for a spring or a little pool of water trapped in a rock. He finally found a tiny spring no bigger than his hand. He lay on his stomach and drank from it, finding it deliciously cool.

He rolled over on his back and lay with his eyes half closed, trying to put aside the memory of how he had almost agreed to Aaron's request to make the golden calf. A shiver ran over him, and he remembered the fear that had touched him and how confused he had felt. He could not understand how Aaron could do such a thing! And then, of course, he remembered the terrible and depraved behavior of the people as they worshiped the idol, and the wrath of Moses and the massacre of so many by the tribe of Levi.

I could have been one of them!
Bezalel thought, realizing that he had come very close to death.

For a long time he lay there and had almost dozed off when something touched his shoulder and brought him out of his half-sleep with a start. His first thought was that the bear had found him, and he let out a cry and leaped to his feet. But when he whirled, he saw Shani standing there looking up at him.

“Don't sneak up on a man like that, Shani! You scared me to death!”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I thought maybe you might want some company.”

Bezalel could not help grinning. “You always think I want your company.” He sat down and drew his feet up under him, and Shani sat down beside him. “How did you find me out here?”

“I saw you take your bow and arrow, and I've been following you,” she said simply.

Bezalel could only shake his head. “Why don't you go play with the other children?”

“No, I don't want to.”

“Well, it can't be much fun for you sitting out here with me in the desert.”

“I don't like to see you sad.”

Surprised, Bezalel turned to face the girl. As always he was rather shocked by her enormous green eyes. They were well-shaped, and one day, he reasoned, they would be the eyes of an attractive woman. He studied her, thinking of how she clung to him like a burr, and said, “I'm not sad.”

“Yes, you are. I can tell. Besides, Miriam told me why you're sad.”

“Didn't she have anything to do but talk about me?”

Shani reached out and took his hand and held it. She stroked the back of it with one of hers and said, “You cut your hand on something.”

“It was a chisel. What did she tell you?”

“She said you were sad because you almost did a bad thing.” She looked up and nodded confidently. “You shouldn't be sad about that. You didn't make that gold calf.”

“I almost did.”

“But you didn't. You're not a bad man. You're the best man in all of Israel.”

Bezalel suddenly laughed. He reached out with his free hand and tousled her auburn hair. It was clean now, thanks to Miriam, and reached down her back almost to her waist. “I'm not the best man in Israel, Shani.”

“You could be if you wanted to be. You could be anything you want to be, Bezalel.”

Bezalel was touched by the child's faith in him. He put his arm around her and hugged her and left it there. She sagged against him, and he said, “I wish I were as good a man as you think I am.”

As for Shani, she was content. He was holding her, and she was leaning against him, and no matter what he said, he
was
the best man in all of Israel!

****

Bezalel could not forget Shani's words:
“You could be anything you want to be.”
She had spoken them without thought, but he knew that her faith in him was as boundless as the sky above. It pleased him, yet troubled him at the same time. Again and again he seemed to hear her small voice, saying,
“You could be anything you want to be.”

For days he would go for long walks in the desert, trying to forget the golden calf incident, but it would not go away from him. He could not sleep well at night, and his work was poorly executed so that Oholiab said more than once, “What's the matter with you, Bezalel? You can't do anything right these days.”

“Nothing's wrong with me.”

“Sure there is,” Oholiab said. “Any time you make a mess like you just have with this job, something's wrong with you. What you need is a woman. You want me to find you one?”

This caused Bezalel to laugh, because Oholiab could not even find a woman for himself. Yet he was still convinced that he was the desire of the young women of the tribe. “No, thanks, Oholiab. Someday I'll find one of my own.”

Almost every evening, when the sun had set and the desert air was growing cool, Bezalel would wander off to be alone. It took some doing to escape Shani's notice, but he managed to do it one evening as the sun was going down. He had come back to the very spring where he had taken a drink and where Shani had uttered the words that still haunted him. He stood beside the spring, thoughtful and troubled, wishing he could do something to erase the memory.

A sound caught his ear, and he whirled quickly to find a man standing there watching him. Bezalel had never seen him before, and he nodded. “Hello. I didn't know anyone was here.”

“I thought I might talk with you,” the man said.

Bezalel stared at him. He did not look exactly like a Hebrew. His eyes were a bright grayish color and very intent. He was smoothly shaven, which was unusual for Hebrews or for any of the other tribesmen. His age was indeterminate. He seemed neither young nor old, but there was something in his strange eyes that troubled Bezalel. “I don't know you, do I?”

“We've never spoken, Bezalel.”

“You know my name?”

“Yes, I do, and I know your trouble. I'd like to help you.”

Bezalel instantly grew suspicious. “I'm not troubled, and I don't do business with people I don't know.”

The visitor smiled suddenly, his teeth showing very white against his bronze skin. “You're not being very honest.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You
are
troubled—more so than you've ever been in your life. It doesn't take a very wise man to see that in your expression.”

Bezalel could not think of a reply for a moment. He did not trust strangers and knew many of the wild desert tribes still lingered on the outskirts of the Hebrew camp. “I'm no more troubled than anyone else.”

“Sometimes it helps to share what's on your mind and your heart with someone else.”

“With you?”

“Well, since I'm here, I'd be glad to listen.”

Bezalel was tempted. There was something about the stranger that attracted him. He had a light smile on his lips, and there was a quality about him that made Bezalel feel he was trustworthy. Having been a slave, Bezalel had learned not to trust anyone, but without knowing why, he had an impulse to open his heart to this man. “Well, to tell the truth, I
have
been a little upset.”

“About what?”

And then it all came out. Without understanding why he was trusting a total stranger, Bezalel told the whole story about the golden calf. When he got to his part of it, he said haltingly and with effort, “Aaron asked me to make the calf, and … well … I almost did.”

“Why didn't you, Bezalel?”

“Because it was
wrong
! I knew it was wrong and Aaron knew it was wrong. So did Miriam.”

“So you almost made the idol?”

“Yes. It would have been a challenge. I like to make new things.”

“Yes, you make very beautiful things, but you didn't do it.”

“No, I didn't, but I'm ashamed that I was even tempted to do such a thing!”

“You can't dwell on that. You chose not to and that's what's important.”

“I don't know why I'm telling you all this,” Bezalel said with a shrug. “There's nothing you can do about it. But ever since it happened, I've been wondering what kind of a man I am and what kind of a man I'll turn out to be.”

“You'll turn out to be the kind of man you choose to be.”

Bezalel smiled. “I have a young friend who has said about the same thing.”

“Yes. She said you could be anything you wanted to be.”

Bezalel grew stiff and stared at the man now in fear. “How could you know that? We were alone.”