My Brother, the Forgiver and Deliverer
We were free. The gigantic, colourful multitude of Hebrews around my small family rejoiced with tender kisses, tight embraces, prayers of adoration, and arms opened to the sky to embrace our God. The sea had long since crashed over the hapless soldiers and pharaoh, with Moses and a little kid barely escaping with their lives. Though unspeakably grateful to be free forever from slavery, I shuddered to think of all the drowned soldiers whose bodies would now clog the surface of the sea, a bounty of food for hungry predators in the water.
Only the jubilance, tears, and tongues speaking God's praises distracted my heart from the unfortunate fate of the soldiers and their king. Egypt would be no more—but it was an Egypt that was cruel to our generations, a land we could never call home. How could our hearts embrace a cruel land of slavery and cruelty? Fear never went hand in hand with love. God loved us—but I believed he loved Moses above all. He had saved him in the desert, the palace, and the journey down the Nile when our tender mother had set him adrift into God's Hands.
We were happy—all of us—to be free. No one could deny the pure joy between Moses and Tzipporah as they embraced with an intimacy reserved only for couples. I myself remained single, as had Aaron, but we didn't mind. God's love was so powerful it surpassed even that of familial and romantic affection. We had no need of any romance—just being with family was enough for us.
At last, Moses and I stood before each other, catching each other's gaze. The lines on his forehead were deepened with fatigue, and even his eyes seemed weary. Yet, he managed a small smile, showing his quiet joy at having freed his people. As I gazed into Moses' happy, yet sorrowful, eyes, a sense of strong sisterly pride swelled fit to burst in my heart. He had freed us! He had led us from slavery! He delivered us as God promised!
Not wasting another moment, I flung my arms around his shoulders, praising God for our deliverer. Nothing could make a woman prouder than to be the sister of the Hebrews' deliverer. I knew Aaron felt the same, once he had got over his prior suspicions of Moses. I closed my eyes as he hugged me in return, thanking God again with my soul we were as a family again. If only mother and father were alive to see us free, God bless their souls. Surely, God would have allowed them to watch from Heaven as Moses led us through the Red Sea toward the Promised Land.
"Thank you," Moses murmured into my ear before we parted the embrace.
I looked into his eyes, and again, I saw some glimpse of sorrow hidden in the lines at the corners of his eyes. I wanted to talk with him about Egypt, but he shook his head imperceptibly. I knew better than to insist conversation on whatever weighed on his heart at this moment of celebration. He wanted to be left alone to his own thoughts, and I respected him for it. Without another word, I quickly returned to my brother and Tzipporah, joining in again with their praises and happiness. I pretended to be deeply in conversation with Aaron and Tzipporah, but in truth was watching Moses from the corner of my eye.
There was no lilt or pause in Tzipporah and Aaron's conversation as Moses slowly turned to walk to the edge of the shore—it appeared only I noticed the absence of Moses.
Turning away from Aaron, I walked forward a few steps, observing Moses at a distance. I couldn't hear what he said—if he even said anything at all—but my heart knew he still missed Egypt. Did he wonder if the Pharaoh survived? Had he gone to mourn the loss of his adoptive brother?
Moses' figure seemed to billow as the breeze whipped at his robes. His brown, wavy hair mussed in the wind's touch. Other than that, he barely moved, just looking out at the horizon. I wondered what was going through his head at that moment, and I tried to imagine myself in his place. Though pharaoh had brought suffering on innocent people, I understood why Moses was drawn to the shore. I had a strong feeling that he wondered if his brother survived. He still cared about Pharaoh, even if I had no love for him. Moses' heart and soul was so deeply loving I couldn't help but admire his capacity to care so much for others, no matter how much they hurt him. Though I couldn't imagine loving someone who brought pain onto innocents, I admired my brother for his capacity to love and forgive those who had become his enemies. Small wonder, then, that God chose him as our deliverer, leader, and voice for us all.
At last, Moses bowed his head, closing his eyes as he turned away. He might have whispered something under his breath, or even said a silent blessing in his heart. I would never know, unless he told me. I watched as Moses dipped his stick into the sand with new strength as he turned to face us. As he neared me, I could see his shoulders looked more relaxed and not as tense. It seemed he walked taller, as though he had accepted what had previously weighted on his mind. It was a walk of a man's acceptance, the determination to move on from sorrow.
Leaving Aaron and Tzipporah, I walked to meet him halfway. He paused as I stopped before him, looking up at him with concern. He placed a hand on my shoulder, still gripping his stick with the other hand. Indeed, he looked less tired, and the weight of sorrow had floated away over the sea. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one could overhear us.
"Were you thinking of the Pharaoh?" I asked boldly.
He nodded. "Yes, Miriam. But I have put the past behind me and resolved to move on. I have a people to lead to freedom."
"Did you think he would survive?"
Moses' chest heaved in a silent sigh. "I doubt it very much, but…"
"You hope he had survived?"
Moses looked away, his shoulders slumping slightly, "I don't know, but I know it is time to move on from what has been."
"How can you still love him after he had refused so many times to let us free?"
"Because, my good sister, he was my brother for a good part of my childhood. You don't just forget someone you grew up with half your life, Miriam. And he just wanted to live up to his father's…" Moses hesitated as he searched for a word, "…demands, no matter how much it hurt his empire. I can only feel remorse for him, not hatred." Moses drew me into a quick, brotherly hug, "Come, Miriam, Aaron tells me you're quite good with a tambourine."
Moses strode on ahead, clearly intent on putting the past behind him—at least for the time being. But right now, he wanted me to lead the Hebrews in jubilant song and music.
I picked up my tambourine and sung God's praises. Behind me, a hundred thousand mouths opened to echo my praise for God's good graces and beloved deliverer, Moses, my brother whose future would sure shine with greatness and majesty.
Ashira, ashira, ashira!
