Amethyst part three

Amethyst Part Three

Iscah did not know, as she huddled with her family in their tent, listening to the revelry taking place near the foot of the mountain, that Yahweh had seen everything. She imagined her sister's and mother's jewelry being melted down and made into an image like those the Egyptians worshiped. And she imagined Yahweh's feeling of betrayal so soon after he had told them not to do the very thing they were doing, right beneath his mountain.
Iscah did not know that Moses was on top of the mountain on his face before Yahweh, begging forgiveness on behalf of those Yahweh had led to freedom and provided for. But she was almost certain she knew how angry, how hurt, and how frustrated Yahweh must be. Would he leave his people? Punish them? Destroy them? It was enough that Yahweh's name had been profaned; it was beyond understanding that his own people had been the ones to do it. And Iscah could not blame him his likely wrath.
Iscah and her family stayed within the tent all afternoon and into the evening, not even venturing out to search for quail, if Yahweh had even sent any. She was certain her family was not the only one to refuse to take part in the drunkenness, but it sounded to her as though most of the camp had joined in the worship of the thing made of gold earrings.

The next morning the feasting continued, and the constant smoke rising from the base of the mountain made it evident that sacrifices were being burnt.
But Reumah was unwilling t let her children go hungry just because of the folly of the camp. Of course, none of the manna had been left until morning, so out she went with the basket to gather some.
She returned with enough to last them all day, and Iscah wondered if perhaps Yahweh had not noticed the idol yet, or if he knew that he had faithful children who were hungry, and did not punish them with the wicked.
Iscah did not know, because she did not know Yahweh well enough yet. He had barely begun to reveal himself to Israel. After this, would she ever get to know him?
She and Leah peeked out of the tent at noon and saw the camp in a frenzy: clearly Aaron had lost all control, and the freed nation of Israel was making a fool of itself.
Iscah raised her eyes to the mountain but was chagrined to discover that the mountain seemed obscured by the smoke of the constant offerings. But surely, that meant that the scent of the sacrifice would reach Yahweh's nostrils and he would send Moses to restore order.
Iscah hoped so. She hoped that Moses would not only restore order but would also tell her what Yahweh had said about himself. And she hoped that he would tell the whole camp, and the camp would repent and Yahweh would lead them all to the promised land like Iscah had dreamed for months.
But until she did know, uncertainty was to plague her. And her amethyst would be lifeless and dull in the palm of her hand because Yahweh's fire did not penetrate the heavy smoke.

Iscah heard more than saw the terror in the camp.
Moses had returned, had put a stop to the drunken mess. The Levites and several others had rallied to Moses' side and had cut down the ones who had instigated the rebellion against Yahweh.
It was horrible; and if it weren't enough, a plague had begun to spread in the camp as well. All over the cam came the sounds of those moaning from the pain, and the sound of sickness.
Once again Iscah's family hid in the tent, Reumah terrified of the pestilence so near their own tent. But Iscah knew, and Leah was almost sure she knew, that their family would be spared.
Many others would be spared, but Iscah supposed that they would never see the boys who robbed their tent again.
The whole day went by without venturing from the tent, but Iscah was anxious. By sunset, she was positively aching to go outside, and unsure why that was. She absently played with the amethyst in her pocket, and found it to be warm to her cold fingers.
Leaving the tent when Reumah was busy with Adah, Iscah skirted around the camp, walking through the flocks of sheep who scattered at her approach.
There it was: Yahweh's mountain, with angry-looking clouds full of fire and thunder. There was no once else round like there had been mere days ago. No crowd of anxious onlookers hungry for a glimpse of their God. It was a vast and dusty wasteland between the camp and the painted rocks at the base of the mountain.
But this Iscah traversed, walking over stones and uneven earth that spit dust on her ankles with every step she took. She walked on, hearing the sounds from the camp fading behind her until she stood six feet from the painted rocks; closer than she had ever been.
She looked up, so far up, and the mountain towered dizzyingly high. But she could not see the top through the clouds that swirled rapidly, as if imitating Yahweh's agitation.
She stood there for several minutes in a whirl of emotions, wanting badly to do something  to demonstrate her sorrow over what had happened and what her people had done. But how could a twelve-year-old girl give something to the creator of the universe? And even if she could, what would be worthy of that gifting?
It was as though Yahweh sensed her emotions, for shortly the clouds began to slow and the thunder to lessen and a fog began its descent from the top of the mountain.
“Yahweh,” Iscah said softly. “I know you are too holy for me to come any closer, and so I will obey the boundaries. But I want you to know that I'm here to get as close to you as possible.”
She wondered if he could even hear her. He had to! But what would he think?
Iscah was overwhelmed. She began to feel tears running down her cheeks, and she fell to her knees in the dust. Slowly she crawled forward until the dusty terrain turned rocky and the painted rocks stood inches from her outstretched hand. Perhaps it was foolish to be there, close but unable to go any further. But there was an indescribable pull that forced the tears down her face and her heart closer to the boundary.
Without knowing why, she trembled. But she inched closer, now on her stomach, unwilling, no, refusing to let the mistakes of the unfaithful keep her from knowing the God who saved her.
What can I give? What can I give?  Her heart questioned foolishly. What can I do that he will notice me?
With her left hand she reached into her pocket and brought out the amethyst which seemed to burn now with a fire as intense as the one on the mountain.
She held it forward, setting it just on the boundary lines, feeling a great sense of peace as well as intensity, for the fire within seemed to double as she set it down.
At the same time the fog on the mountain that had slowly been descending, poured over the boundary line, rushing first over her amethyst and then over her face.
It felt so wonderful. She lay there for a long time, imagining a world where a simple slave girl could speak to Yahweh face to face, and know that he heard.
The sun set, and a light misting rain fell over her, washing away the dust from the camp.
She sat up, taking the amethyst in her fingers, and thought of leaving, when she heard approaching footsteps.
Through the fog she looked up to see a tall, old man with a thick beard and dark brown eyes. He seemed to notice her just then, for he paused and turned from the path that lead up the mountain, and his eyes widened. He noticed then the dust on her clothes that was quickly turning to mud, and his eyes softened. There was a sadness and frustration in his eyes which lessened some as the looked at her.
Iscah knew who he was; no one else was able to climb the mountain but Moses. He seemed shorter, however, than he had appeared the day he std on that very mountain and spoke the words of Yahweh.
“Does he call you by name?” Iscah asked, meeting his eyes.
Moses shuffled over to where she sat and rested himself on a painted rock.
“Yes, he does,” he said. “And he knows your name too.” He got a faraway look in his eyes then, and stood up to ascend the mountain.
Iscah watched him go, with a peace and satisfaction in her that was as enveloping as the fog.
She looked up again and this time, through the fog and the clouds, she could see stars twinkling and shifting, distorted by the fires.
Slowly Iscah stood and walked home.

returned to her tent and did not receive a word of reproach, although not because she didn't deserve it. Rather, Samlah was sleep and Reumah was pacing the length of the tent with Adah in her arms. She did, however, throw her second-born a wounded look over Adah's head that seemed to say, “You add to my troubles by going off without a word?” Iscah noticed the dark circles under Reumah's eyes and felt penitent.
She by no means regretted her actions, except that they pained her mother.
She crossed  to where Leah sat and seated herself. Leah gave her a curious look but said nothing.
Thus two more days went by in relative silence, until the plague seemed to have stopped in the camp.
Carmi went out with his father to the flock, and came back to inform them that there were many who were being buried east of the camp. Moreover, he said, the whole camp seemed to be grieving and repentant and entirely obedient.
Therefore what happened next was no surprise.
Moses, his face glowing and radiant from being so long in Yahweh's presence, began to explain to the camp what Yahweh told him about Himself and about the order of the camp. The camp, as a whole, came to hear these words every day in rapt silence with a true desire to hear and obey.
Iscah wondered, had their attention finally been captured, or was this show of obedience as temporary as the others had been?
There was no way to know. But when the construction of what Yahweh called his tabernacle had begun, the unanimous approval and cooperation was evident and was a joy in Iscah's heart.
Yahweh asked that those who were willing bring everything they could to furnish the project. He also chose those with special talents in dyeing, weaving, carving, and other artistic craftsmanship to work him.
Iscah saw the work being done and was glad. Yahweh, she thought, must be even happier than I. Because Samlah was chosen to work with the stonecutters, Carmi was sent to watch the flock. But often he would leave them with a friend and wander to the place where all the work on the tabernacle was being done. So one day Iscah asked him to take her there and show her as much as he could.
He pointed out to her the piles of gold, silver, and bronze that people were lining up to add their own treasures to, and then he pointed out the sections where men and women both were weaving and dyeing, and where men were hammering gold and bronze, and perfumers were making incense.
Then he took her to where the women were spinning bright colors of yarn for the lengths of tabernacle walls, and where people were bringing acacia wood to be used for its supports.
Days went by and slowly the tabernacle began to take shape. It was a long tent inside of a courtyard made of curtains and held up with wooden posts.
The blues, purples, and scarlets of the linen made the whole tabernacle bright and breathtaking. But only Aaron and the Levite tribe could see what was being set up inside the inner tent.
Iscah, watching all the contributions pour in, felt a little sad that she did not have gold or wood or talent to offer. Sure, Samlah had given. But it was not the same.
She felt, all of a sudden, her amethyst grow warm against her hip. She took it from her pocket and regarded it in the sunlight. Could Yahweh use her amethyst? Surely that was why he gave it to her. He gave her the means to do what she wanted to so badly: offer him something in gratitude for her freedom. It was indeed ironic, but that, she supposed, was just how much he loved her. He had given it, simply because she did not, on her own, have something to offer.
She stood thoughtfully in the milling ground, hearing the sounds of true joy darting through the camp. Carmi tugged on her arm, then, pulling her toward the east side of the camp where Moses himself was overseeing the construction of the tabernacle.  He no longer wore the expression of sorrow she had last seen him wear. It was replaced by a peace that could only come from the presence of Yahweh. Iscah understood; she had been given just a taste herself.
“Here,” Moses was saying, clearing a bench of wooden tools, “is where the collection is to be taken for the precious stones on the priest's ephod.  Request that anyone who has a large stone that can be easily cut bring it here. They are to represent the twelve tribes of Israel before Yahweh's altar.”
“Which stones does Yahweh ask for?” Asked one worker, who Carmi whispered was named Bezalel.
Here was an answer. Months of asking, an a chance overhearing made Iscah feel as though even  she was important enough for Yahweh to lead her right there, right then.
“Ruby, topaz, beryl, turquoise, sapphire, emerald,” Moses listed from memory. Who could forget the words of Yahweh? “Jacinth, agate, amethyst, chrysolite, onyx, and jasper.”
Abruptly Iscah turned and fled through the crowd, Carmi following hastily behind. “Hey, where are you going?” He asked her, puzzlement on his face.
Iscah was trembling.  “Did you hear what Moses said?” She asked, gripping the amethyst until it cut into her palm.
“Yes. He said amethyst,” Carmi said stubbornly. “And you should give him yours to use.”
“But my amethyst would be worn on the ephod in Yahweh's presence on every priest that serves before him... for the entire existence of our nation.” She whispered in a rush, awed at the very thought.
With wisdom characteristic of Samlah and Reumah's offspring, Carmi asked, “What do you think you have it for? You can't use it for anything else!” He grew excited. “Maybe that's why I was able to get it back when it was stolen! Yahweh needed it, and he used me to keep if from being used on an idol.” He puffed out his chest, feeling a bit like his sister was, had he known it.
Is this how Moses felt knowing he was chosen? Iscah wondered. Was he frightened at first? Unsure?
Iscah opened her hand; that hand which, mere months ago, had been calloused and bruised. Those hands had first held the amethyst the night her family left their bondage forever. She remembered: Moses had told everyone to ask their Egyptian neighbors for some costly item, and thus plunder them.
The Egyptians were favorable disposed toward the Israelites and Iscah thought back to the smiling eyes of the Egyptian woman who had approached Iscah. Her eyes had been outlines with kohl, and she was dressed in fine white linen and much jewelry. Why had someone so affluent chosen to enter the poorest part of town to meet a little slave girl? Iscah had often wondered it, but perhaps there was no reason to wonder. Not anymore.
“For you,” the woman had said, holding Iscah's wrist and dropping the stone into her open palm. Iscah had walked all night with the stone in her hand, and had gripped it so tightly when she had crossed the dusty earth at the bottom of the Red Sea.
Those same hands, now, were softer and gentler and had not done any hard labor since then. But now, she realized, it was time for those hands to hold the amethyst no more. It reminded her of, was a token of, Egypt. But no longer. It was in Yahweh's hand's now.
Seeing Iscah's face take on a determined look, Carmi grinned and took her free hand, dragging her back to the site of construction.
To her dismay, there was a line of leaders and judges bringing their own precious stones to Bezalel, and the collection looked quite complete.
“There is one more,” Bezalel commented to Moses, who stood behind him.
“Which of them remains?” He asked, and Iscah leaned forward to hear. Please Yahweh, she begged silently. I want to give you something.
“An amethyst?” Carmi blurted, pushing through those gathered to watch. He pulled Iscah with him, until they stood before Bezalel and Moses.
“Indeed,” Bezalel raised his eyebrows.
“Then  may I give this?” Iscah asked, holding out her one possession. “I think it will be the right size for the ephod.”
“Bezalel accepted the amethyst from her and held it up to the sunlight, much as she had often done. “East to cut and set,” he commented, “I think we are done.” He set the amethyst next to the other stones, where it blended in and was now one of many. It was done, unceremonious, but taken in gratitude.
Moses reached into the pile and pulled out the amethyst himself, nodding his approval. He then glanced at Iscah, his eyes widening slightly under his bushy eyebrows, recognizing her.
“He knows your name” he said. “And your heart. Your gift will not be forgotten.”
In slight embarrassment, but great pleasure, Iscah nodded and walked away, a smile on her lips and with cheeks burning. The weight and warmth of the amethyst burned into her hand. Was emptiness ever a good thing? The emptiness of her hand told her so. She had let it go. To give all one has, she decided, listening to Carmi's plodding footsteps behind her, is a wonderful thing to do when you're doing it for Yahweh.
She looked up one more time at the fire on the mountain and felt inexorably blessed. Why wouldn't she? Yahweh knew her name.

postscript

Dedicated to the class of 2008. What will you give? Not fully edited. There's much in this chapter that bugs me, but I'll get to it. Tell me what you think of this final installment.