Bearing God's Name

by Carmen Joy Imes

  Authors of the biblical text have also expressed the truth using their own creative artistry. We saw this when we noted that the Sinai narratives are framed on either side with a symmetrical set of stories. The author is selective, not feeling constrained to describe each of the forty-two campsites listed in Numbers 33. The stories are told from a particular perspective, interpreting what happened rather than simply reporting events.

  Authors of the biblical text have also expressed the truth using their own creative artistry.

  To say that the Bible is a painting does not make it static. Something marvelous happens when we immerse ourselves in its artistry. It becomes our own story, and we become a participant. If it hasn’t happened to you yet, stay tuned for Part Two. Things are gonna get personal.

  DIGGING DEEPER

  *V. Philips Long. The Art of Biblical History. FOCI, Vol. 5. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1994.

  Related videos from The Bible Project:

  “Literary Styles” and “The Bible as Jewish Meditation Literature.”

  6

  STRIKING OUT

  From Mount Sinai to Mount Zion

  FULL MOUNTAIN ECLIPSE:

  WHAT HAPPENED TO SINAI?

  Israel’s experience at Sinai was deeply formative. In the chapters ahead, we’ll follow how Israel does at bearing Yahweh’s name through the rest of the Bible. Before we do, I want get a bird’s eye view of another motif—Sinai itself. What happens to this mountain after Israel marches away? How is it remembered? When is it revisited?

  Surprisingly, we hear little of Sinai after they leave, even though “remembering” is a key theme in biblical theology. Yahweh institutes the Passover as the annual day to remember the exodus (Exodus 12:26-27; Deuteronomy 16:1-8), and the Feast of Booths to remember when Moses gave the people the law (Leviticus 23:23-43; Deuteronomy 31:10-13), but neither requires any sort of pilgrimage to Sinai. Instead, the Israelites are to remember God’s deliverance in their own homes, wherever they live. Because God’s presence traveled with them when they left Sinai, there’s no need to go back.

  But do they wish they could?

  Danny and I have moved often in twenty years of marriage, fourteen times so far. Some of those moves were for a few weeks or months while waiting for a more permanent place to open up. The longest we’ve lived anywhere together is four-and-a-half years. In most cases, we’ve been able to go back later to see the old house and neighborhood, reconnect with neighbors, and visit our favorite ice cream shop. However, we’ve never been back to the Philippines. We lived there for two-and-a-half years as missionaries, forming friendships with fellow expats, Filipino colleagues, and Muslim street vendors. For years after we moved, I had a vivid recurring dream in which I traveled back to the Philippines to see my Muslim friends. I would go to the open market and search down every aisle, weeping as I tried to find them. The pain of losing those friendships and leaving that part of my life behind was intense.

  I wonder: Do the Israelites dream of Sinai? Are they nostalgic for the place where Yahweh first called them his treasure? There are other mountains to come—Nebo, Gerazim, Ebal, Tabor, Zion—but nothing quite like Sinai. Wistfulness would be understandable. Then again, maybe the mountain held a sense of foreboding for the average Israelite that they would be happy to leave behind.

  Some time elapses before Israel has a centralized place of worship. When they first enter the promised land, they head to Mount Gerazim and Mount Ebal to renew the covenant as Moses had instructed (Joshua 8:30-35). It’s important that they reaffirm their commitment inside the land.1 The ceremony takes place on the highest mountains, which are conveniently located at the geographic midpoint of the land (north-south as well as east-west). They build an altar on Mount Ebal and use it for a time,2 but we don’t hear about any glorious appearing of Yahweh, and the location does not remain a major part of Israel’s worship. It’s a bit anticlimactic, really.

  At some point, the tabernacle is moved from Gilgal (Israel’s military base camp just inside the promised land) to Shiloh in the central hill country. That’s where it is when the boy Samuel comes into the service of Eli the priest (1 Samuel 1–2). Samuel is the prophet who first anoints Saul as king in Israel and later David. David conquers the ancient city of Jebus and makes it his capital, renames it Jerusalem, and brings the ark of the covenant tablets there, presumably to take its place in the tabernacle. The Jerusalem temple is built on a hill proudly known as Mount Zion. Physically speaking, it is not an impressive mountain. However, theologically speaking, Mount Zion is the tallest mountain on earth.

  I currently live in Three Hills, Alberta, but I grew up in the mountain state of Colorado. The Rocky Mountains run through Alberta, too, with stunning peaks of impressive height, but we can’t see them from our town. We’re out on the prairies, where the most notable topographical feature is three slight undulations to the north—our three hills. If you’re not looking for them, you’ll pass right on by without noticing. They aren’t anything to write home about.

  Zion is like this too. If you stand on the Mount of Olives, directly across a narrow valley, you’ll be looking down at Jerusalem. The way Israel’s poets speak of it, though, you’ll need to remember your high-altitude medication if you plan to visit:

  Beautiful in its loftiness, the joy of the whole earth, like the heights of Zaphon is Mount Zion, the city of the Great King. (Psalm 48:2)

  From Zion, perfect in beauty, God shines forth. (Psalm 50:2)

  For the LORD has chosen Zion, he has desired it for his dwelling, saying, “This is my resting place for ever and ever; here I will sit enthroned, for I have desired it.” (Psalm 132:13-14)

  Many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the temple of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.” The law will go out from Zion, the word of the LORD from Jerusalem. (Isaiah 2:3)

  This is what the LORD says: “I will return to Zion and dwell in Jerusalem. Then Jerusalem will be called the Faithful City, and the mountain of the LORD Almighty will be called the Holy Mountain.” (Zechariah 8:3)

  Zion isn’t impressive for its physical height. It’s special for one reason alone: Yahweh puts his name there, claiming it as his own. His presence is somehow concentrated in the temple. It is the designated place for Israel’s worship.3

  So, for the most part, Sinai fades and is replaced by Zion.

  But that’s still several hundred years away from the perspective of those marching out from Sinai. We need to get back to those early days when Israel was just striking out to see how they fared in their new vocation as Yahweh’s representatives.

  ENEMY #1: COMPLAINTS IN THE WILDERNESS

  One would hope that in light of Yahweh’s dramatic deliverance, brilliant self-revelation, and clear instructions at Sinai, the road to the promised land would be a joy-filled journey. Unfortunately, it isn’t. And the enemy that threatens to undo Yahweh’s special representatives is not who you might expect.

  We’re not sure exactly how far the Israelites got before they started complaining. The narrator mentions a three-day journey before they set up camp, and then he jumps straight into the first complaint story. This and a handful of similar stories from the wilderness follow a predictable pattern: complaining results in punishment and prayer brings relief.

  Before Sinai, Yahweh shows mercy. His expectations of the people are low. They don’t know him well yet, and they have much to learn. After Sinai, Yahweh’s expectations are higher. It’s not that his character has changed. He is still “slow to anger, abounding in love” (Exodus 34:6), but they’ve had a whole year to learn how to honor him and one another. They know exactly what he expects. He’s watching for maturity, yet he sees little. The time comes for him to express what is also true of his character: “he does not leave the guilty unpunished” (Exodus 34:7). This time, they should know better.

  Whining is the bane of every parent, especially on a road trip. We’re on a length
y road trip as I write this, living out of a trailer for four weeks with two kids, one of whom gets claustrophobic in a 2,200-square-foot house, much less trapped in a vehicle. So far we’ve stopped at five campsites and a friend’s property. It’s not just the kids who have struggled. I’ve been on edge too. A road trip involves lots of liminal space—neither here nor there—settling only temporarily and relearning new routines. We’ve driven hundreds of miles on unfamiliar roads that wind through mountains and alongside drop-offs, past countless other cars. We’ve camped in wilderness areas near an active volcano, attempted to cross a swift river on foot, hiked a dozen trails, and lit fires nearly every evening. None of these were our greatest risk. The worst danger was ourselves. Maintaining cheerfulness and kindness in the midst of constant change can be an enormous challenge. Liminality exposes all our rough edges.

  The Israelites’ biggest challenge is not, as we might expect, marauding bands or lack of food and water or scorpions or blazing sun. The single greatest threat to their survival in the wilderness is themselves. They are enemy #1. It’s enough to make Moses wish he were dead. Literally. He says to Yahweh, “I cannot carry all these people by myself; the burden is too heavy for me. If this is how you are going to treat me, please go ahead and kill me—if I have found favor in your eyes—and do not let me face my own ruin” (Numbers 11:14-15).

  First the people complain of “hardships” (Numbers 11:1). Then they “begin to crave other food” (Numbers 11:4). Miracle manna, it seems, is getting old. Miriam and Aaron spread gossip against Moses (Numbers 12:1-2). After the Israelite spies report on their exploration of Canaan, the whole community voices their complaint, wishing they had died in Egypt (Numbers 14:1-4). Eventually there is an insurrection against Moses and Aaron (Numbers 16:1-3).

  The single greatest threat to their survival in the wilderness is themselves. They are enemy #1.

  In each of these cases, Yahweh’s response is firm. He supports Moses’ leadership and punishes (or eliminates!) the rebels. These are rocky times in the wilderness.

  Take, for example, when Moses commissions twelve spies to check out the promised land. As requested, they discern what the land is like and how strong the people are. “We went into the land to which you sent us, and it does flow with milk and honey! Here is its fruit. But the people who live there are powerful, and the cities are fortified and very large. We even saw descendants of Anak there. The Amalekites live in the Negev; the Hittites, Jebusites and Amorites live in the hill country: and the Canaanites live near the sea and along the Jordan” (Numbers 13:27-29).

  Here’s what’s fascinating about the spies’ report: They’d already known for a whole year that Yahweh was giving them a fruitful land populated by these particular nations. God told Moses as much at their first encounter on Mount Sinai: “And I have promised to bring you up out of your misery in Egypt into the land of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites—a land flowing with milk and honey” (Exodus 3:17). Did the Israelites suppose that these residents would evacuate of their own free will? Did they think the other nations would turn out to be a bunch of wimps?

  Now that they’ve seen the land with their own eyes, the spies fall into two camps. Caleb urges, “We should go up and take possession of the land, for we can certainly do it” (Numbers 13:30). He finds things as Yahweh had said they would be. He trusts that the same God who delivered them from Pharaoh’s armies can accomplish the rest of what he’s promised.

  The others are not so sure: “We can’t attack those people; they are stronger than we are” (Numbers 14:31). As though describing the fish that got away, they begin exaggerating, saying that the land will eat them alive and that in comparison to these other nations they are like grasshoppers. Their fear is contagious. Fear always is. By nightfall the entire community is in a panic. Enemy #1 strikes again.

  Make no mistake. The problem is not the powerful nations with fortified cities, fierce as they may be. The problem is the Israelites’ own refusal to believe what Yahweh has promised. By failing to trust, they have become their own worst enemy. Yahweh forgives them, but they still reap the consequences of their unfaithfulness: rather than entering the land God promised them, that generation lives out the rest of their days in the wilderness.

  Israel’s own tendency to sabotage itself appears in another story at the end of Numbers, one we have already discussed. In it, Yahweh prevents Balaam and the Moabite king who hired him from cursing Israel. Meanwhile, the Israelites down in the valley are oblivious to Yahweh’s protection as he foils the Moabite scheme. But in the very next scene (Numbers 25), the Israelites ruin everything. Their men begin committing adultery with Moabite women in violation of the commands at Sinai. These women invite them to worship Moabite gods. Those engaged in this rebellion are put to death by sword or plague by God’s initiative. Clearly, for those who bear Yahweh’s name, the worst danger of all is not foreign armies, but the consequences of their own unfaithfulness. Their moral failure deserves punishment.

  GENERATION NEXT: MOSES’ LAST SERMON

  After a thirty-eight-year “time out” in the wilderness, the consequence of Israel’s failure to trust Yahweh, the first generation of faithless Israelites is dead. Only Caleb and Joshua remain, the two spies with unshakable faith. A new generation is ready to embrace the promises of Yahweh and enter the land he will give them. Aaron has also died by this point, but Moses is still at the helm. They are camped on the plains of Moab, across the Jordan from the promised land.

  The book of Deuteronomy is Moses’ final address to the people, preparing them for what’s ahead. In it, he retells their story, reminds them who they are, and reiterates Yahweh’s instructions. The book provides Moses’ final overview of God’s recipe for an abundant life. The opening of his sermon is unexpected:

  Hear, Israel, the decrees and laws I declare in your hearing today. Learn them and be sure to follow them. The LORD our God made a covenant with us at Horeb [i.e., Sinai]. It was not with our ancestors that the LORD made this covenant, but with us, with all of us who are alive here today. The LORD spoke to you face to face out of the fire on the mountain. (Deuteronomy 5:1-4, emphasis added)

  Is Moses having a “senior moment”? Has he forgotten that the people standing before him are the next generation of Israelites? Perhaps some of them were children at Sinai, but all the adults who were there (besides Caleb and Joshua) have died. Most of them were born since.

  No, Moses has not forgotten. His language is deliberate. He wants to drive home the point that these men and women are full-fledged members of the covenant. Any faithful Israelite from any period in history was there at Sinai. The covenant is not a hand-me-down. It’s theirs from the beginning. Their parents disqualified themselves from its benefits, forfeiting their status as God’s treasured possession by acting faithlessly. But this generation has direct access.

  Moses wants this generation to embrace the story of the exodus from Egypt as their story.

  Moses presses his point even further as he enumerates the Ten Commandments for this new generation. This time around, rather than basing the Sabbath command on God’s creative work (you should rest because God rested on the seventh day, see Exodus 20:11), he bases it on family history: “Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the LORD your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm” (Deuteronomy 5:15). They weren’t slaves in Egypt, of course. That was their parents. But Moses wants this generation to embrace the story of the exodus from Egypt as their story. They are the slaves Yahweh delivered. They are the rescued ones. From Moses’ vantage point, Yahweh makes a covenant with a faithful generation and their children. The faithlessness of those physically present at Sinai does not spell disaster forever. Future generations may be included in the covenant simply by embracing it with faith and responding to it with obedience.

  What had been a potential in Exodus 19:5-6—they could become Yahweh’s treasured possession—was now a reality. In Deuteronomy
26:16-19, Moses recaps the momentous day when Yahweh confirmed the covenant with this new generation on the plains of Moab:

  This very day, Yahweh your God is commanding you to do these statutes and ordinances, and you shall keep them and you shall do them with all your heart and with all your soul. Today you have had Yahweh declare himself [amar] to be your God, in order that you may walk in his ways, and keep his statutes, and his commands, and his ordinances, and listen to his voice. And today Yahweh has had you declare yourself [amar] to be his treasured people (just as he promised you) in order that you may keep all his commands, and in order to set you above all the nations he has made for praise, and for a name, and for honor, in order that you may be a people holy to Yahweh your God, just as he promised. (author’s translation)4

  Each declaration of commitment is prompted by the other party, ensuring the full participation of both. These are not simply words; they put into effect the covenant relationship between Yahweh and his people. These words do something. A modern-day example of efficacious words—words that do something—is the statement of the officiant at a wedding, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Before these words are spoken, the couple is not married. The statement puts into effect a new reality. In the same way, these covenant words adopt a new generation of Israelites as Yahweh’s treasured possession. He becomes their God and they become his people.

  ENTERING IN: JOSHUA AND THE BEGINNING OF FULFILLMENT

  The book of Joshua illustrates how Yahweh’s promises, declared at Sinai and reiterated in Moab, finally begin to be fulfilled. Moses has died and Joshua has taken leadership of the fledgling nation. As Moses had predicted would be the case in Deuteronomy 28:10, “Then all the peoples on earth will see that the name of Yahweh is invoked over you, and they will fear you” (author’s translation). The nations were indeed watching Israel, and they were afraid. Rahab, a resident of the city of Jericho, is the first to confess this. She risks her own life to hide Israelite spies. She voices what all of Jericho’s residents are thinking in the decades following Israel’s escape from Egypt and their recent defeat of the two kings east of the Jordan, Sihon and Og. She admits, “When we heard of it, our hearts melted in fear and everyone’s courage failed because of you, for the LORD your God is God in heaven above and on the earth below” (Joshua 2:11; cf. 4:23-24). Rahab’s words echo precisely the command not to make images of anything “in heaven above or on the earth beneath” (Exodus 20:4).5 Her profession of faith in Yahweh embodies the fulfillment of Deuteronomy 28:10. In spite of the previous generation’s lack of covenant faithfulness, the nations are afraid of Israel and her God.