Moses led the Chosen People into the desert wilderness, a story familiar to us of 40 years of wandering in a fairly small space as they traveled to Canaan. I wonder, what they expected when they would get there and how they would know they had arrived?
The Israelites in Egypt had no personal memories of Canaan. It was generations before that their forefathers had left. My ancestors left England in the early 1700’s to sail to the American Colonies. 300 years later, my daughter and I visited England. I felt slight twinges of nostalgia in England but in reality, it wasn’t my home and I didn’t feel drawn to the land as if I were a native. How did the Israelites feel?
They had heard stories passed from grandparents to grandchildren. I am sure the stories grew more impressive with each successive generation. “A land of milk and honey…the best of everything…the sweetest water…the bluest sky…the greenest landscape.” They married, had babies, died. They kept their traditions alive. They worshipped one God, but He was silent. His covenant with Abraham was, perhaps, forgotten.
Then, the word came…we’re leaving. We’re going back…we’re going home. But where was home? What did it look like? What did it feel like? What will we do when we get there?
They gathered all they could carry. People who had lived in homes, in a neighborhood…people who had forgotten what it was to live in a tent and follow the herds. They left…whole families, friends, whole neighborhoods. This was no solitary camping vacation. For most of them, everyone they knew joined the parade. A grand adventure! We’re off to the Land of our Forefathers!
Wandering in the desert…are you sure this is the right way? Why, in God’s name, did we ever leave our homes? At least we’re all in this together.
They left behind what they couldn’t carry. They left behind their ancestors to go to the Land of their Ancestors, to reclaim the Covenant of their Ancestors. They brought with them only what they could carry…their memories, their stories, their family, their friends, their neighbors, their tradition, their God.
When we wander through the desert times, we feel so alone. It’s so easy to lose track of where we are and who we are and whose we are. We forget about family and friends and neighbors. We forget traditions, stories, memories. Like the Israelites, we rail at God, we wander away from Him, we question, we sin, we wander back. All the while, we forget about His promises and what lies ahead. And, like the Israelites, we have no idea what our destination looks like, and how we will know when we’ve arrived there.
