Kelubai glared at his older brothers. “Wait long enough and you’ll all be dead.”
By the time Kelubai returned to the land over which he had charge, Azubah had loaded the oxen with the plowshares, the pruning hooks, and the remaining sacks of grain from last year’s harvest. Stacked on top were all the family possessions. Mesha would see to the small flock of goats that provided milk and meat.
Kelubai noticed a small wooden cabinet lashed to the side of the cart. “What’s this?” he asked his wife, although he knew all too well.
“We can’t leave our household gods behind.”
He untied the box. “Have you learned nothing these past weeks?” Ignoring her shriek, he heaved the container against the wall of his empty hut. The cabinet burst open, spilling clay idols that smashed on the ground. He caught her by the arm before she could go after them. “They’re useless, woman! Worse than useless.” He took the rod from Mesha and prodded the oxen. “Now, let’s go. We’ll be fortunate if we reach Goshen before nightfall.”
Others were heading for Goshen; even Egyptians were among those with their possessions on their backs or loaded in small carts. Squalid camps had sprung up like thistles around the outer edges of the humble Hebrew villages. Kelubai avoided them and went into the villages themselves, seeking information about the placement of the tribe of Judah. They camped away from everyone.
On the third day, he approached a gathering of old men in the middle of a village, knowing they would be the elders and leaders. Several noticed his approach and studied him nervously. “I am a friend come to join you.”
“Friend? I don’t know you.” The elder glanced around the circle. “Do any of you know this man?” There was a rumble of voices as the others agreed that Kelubai was a stranger to all of them.
Kelubai came closer. “We are connected through my ancestor Jephunneh, friend of Judah, son of Jacob. Our people followed your family from Canaan during the great famine. We were your servants for a time.”
“What is your name?”
“Kelubai.”
“Caleb, he says.” Dog. Some laughed, not pleasantly.
Kelubai felt the heat pour into his face. “Kelubai.” He spoke slowly; his gaze went to each man in the circle in an unhurried clarification.
“Caleb,” someone said again, snide and unseen.
And then another, “No doubt a friend of Egyptians.”
Kelubai would not let insults or his temper rule his judgment. “I am your brother.”
“A spy.”
They seemed determine to insult him, these men who had been slaves all their lives.
Kelubai stepped inside the circle. “When the heel of Pharaoh came down upon you, our family continued to barter grain for goats. When Pharaoh denied you straw to make bricks, I gave all I had. Do you so quickly forget those who help you?”
“A little straw does not make you a brother.”
These Hebrews were as hard to reason with as his own family. Kelubai smiled mirthlessly. That alone should be a sign that they were blood related. “I am a son of Abraham, just as you are.”
“A claim not yet established.”
He faced the elder who spoke and inclined his head. “I am descended from Abraham’s grandson Esau, and Esau’s eldest son, Eliphaz.”
Another snorted. “We have no commerce with Esau’s spawn.”
“See how red his face is.” Edom.
Kelubai’s hackles rose. How did they come to be so proud of Israel, the trickster, who cheated his brother, Esau, out of his birthright! But he held his tongue, knowing it would not serve his purpose to argue that cause before this council of men. Besides, Israel might have been a deceiver, but Esau had been less than wise.
Someone laughed. “He has no answer to that!”
Kelubai turned his head slowly and stared into the man’s eyes. The laughter stopped.
“We are sons of Israel.” The elder spoke quietly this time, his words fact, not insult.
Did they think he would back down? “I am a son of Abraham, who was called by God to leave his land and go wherever God would take him.”
“Is he speaking of Abraham or himself?”
“The dog thinks he is a lion.”
Kelubai clenched his teeth. “As Abraham was called out of Ur, so too have we been called out of Egypt. Or do you think Moses speaks his own words and not the words of God?”
Kelubai might not be as pure in blood as they, but his desire to be counted among God’s people went far beyond blood. It came from the very heart and soul of him. Could these men say the same, when they bowed down in worship one day and rose up in rebellion the next?
The old man assessed him. Kelubai felt a prickling of apprehension. Finally the elder held out his hand. “Sit. Tell us more.”
Kelubai accepted the invitation. The others in the circle watched him closely, mouths tight, making it clear a hearing was not a vote of trust. He must choose his words carefully so he would not offend anyone. “You have good reason to be suspicious of strangers. Every time the Lord your God sends His prophet Moses to Pharaoh and another plague strikes Egypt, Pharaoh hates you all the more.”
“We have had more trouble since Moses came out of the desert than we had before!”
Surprised, Kelubai glanced at the man who spoke. “What Moses says comes to pass. This is proof he is what he says he is—a messenger from God.”
“He brings more trouble upon us!” the Israelite insisted.
Kelubai might as well be talking to his father and brothers. “Your animals survived the pestilence. Did any of you suffer boils? The hail and fire did not touch your lands. The God of Abraham is protecting you.”
“And you want that protection for yourself. Isn’t that the real reason you have come here and tried to worm your way into our tribe?”
“It is not your protection I seek.” Clearly, some sitting in their council did not believe in the God who was fighting for their salvation. “You have as little power in yourself as I have.” Kelubai drew a slow breath, and focused his attention on the elder who had invited him to sit. Here, at least, was a reasonable man. “I am a slave of Egypt. All my life I have worked for taskmasters, and all my life I have dreamed of freedom. And then I heard that the Nile had been turned to blood. I went to see for myself, and saw frogs as well—by the thousands—come up from the river into Thebes. Then gnats and flies by the millions! I saw oxen drop dead in harness because my neighbors did not heed the warning and bring the animals inside. Members of my family suffered from boils just as the Egyptians did. And a few days ago from the window of my hut, I watched the wheat fields in which I’ve toiled for months beaten down by stones of water and set aflame by spears of fire from heaven!”
At least they were silent now, all eyes on him, though some most unfriendly. “I believe Moses. Every plague that has come upon the land of Egypt weakens Pharaoh’s power and brings us closer to freedom. The God who promised to deliver you has come, and He has shown He has the power to fulfill His Word!” He looked around the circle of elders. “I want—” he shook his head—“no. I intend to be counted among His people.”
Some grumbled. “Intend? Such arrogance!”
“Honesty, not arrogance.”
“Why bother to speak to the council at all?”
“I want to be shoulder to shoulder with you in whatever lies ahead, not nose to nose.”
Others said what did it matter if this Edomite and his family camped nearby? Hundreds of other people, Egyptians included, had put up tents around the village. What did one more man and his family matter as long as they brought their own provisions with them? Besides, wouldn’t having such numbers around them afford a hedge of protection if Pharaoh sent his soldiers? They talked among themselves, argued, worried, fretted.
Kelubai sat and listened, measuring these men with whom he would be aligned. He had expected the Hebrews to be different. Instead, they reminded him of Jerahmeel and his younger brothers squabbling and carping, assuming a
nd fearing the worst would happen. One would think they wished Moses had never been sent to Pharaoh to demand the slaves be released. One would think it would be better to go on making bricks for Pharaoh than risk even the hope of freedom!
Was it not a mighty God directing events that would open the way to salvation?
The old man, Zimri, watched Kelubai, his gaze enigmatic. Kelubai looked into his eyes and held his gaze, wanting the elder to know his thoughts. I am here, Zimri. These men can ignore me, but neither they nor you will drive me away.
It was hours later and nothing decided when the men began to disperse. God was ever on their lips, but clearly they did not trust the signs, nor the deliverer. When Kelubai rose, he saw Mesha waiting for him in the shadows between two huts. Smiling, he headed toward him.
“Caleb!”
Hackles rising, Kelubai turned and faced three men he knew to be his enemies. He remembered their names: Tobias, Jakim, and Nepheg. It was always wise to identify your enemies. Jakim raised his hand, pointing at him. “You don’t belong among our people, let alone among the elders.”
“I came to make a petition.”
“Your petition has been rejected.”
They spoke boldly now that the others were gone. “I will wait to hear what the entire council has to say.” Not that it would make any difference. He was here to stay whether they liked it or not.
“We say, Caleb, stay outside the boundaries of our village if you know what’s good for you. We don’t want outsiders among us.” They walked away.
“They called you a dog, Father!”
Yes, they had cast him among those wretched animals that lived on the outskirts of settlements, living off the scraps from the garbage heaps. He saw the shame in his son’s eyes, anger flaring in his youthful confusion. More stinging was the unspoken question Kelubai saw in his son’s eyes: Why did you allow it?
“They don’t know me yet, my son.”
“They insult you.” Mesha’s voice trembled with youthful fury.
“A man who gives in to anger might as well burn his house down over his head.” He could swallow his pride when his family’s survival was at stake.
Mesha hung his head, but not before Kelubai had seen the tears building. Did his son think him a coward? Time would have to teach the truth. “A wise man picks his battles carefully, my son.” Kelubai put his arm around Mesha and turned him toward their camp on the outer edges of the village. “If they call me Caleb, so be it. I will make it a name of honor and courage.”
The family remained on the periphery of the villages of Judah, but Kelubai stayed close whenever the council met and therefore heard whatever news came at the same time the Judeans did. And news did come by way of Levite messengers from Moses and his brother, Aaron. Pharaoh had hardened his heart again; another plague was coming. It would not touch Goshen, but would lay waste to Egypt.
“We must go back and warn your father and brothers!”
Kelubai knew what his wife really wanted was to go back, to be away from these Hebrews who would not speak to her. “I warned them already. We will wait here and make a place for them.”
“What makes you so sure they’ll come?”
“They aren’t fools, Azubah. Stubborn, yes. Frightened? As am I. No, we remain here. I left my words like seeds. When they have been plowed under and more plagues rain down upon them, what I said will take root and grow.”
The next morning, he went to the edge of Goshen and watched the cloud of locusts come. They darkened the sun. The noise was like a rumbling of chariots, like the roar of a fire sweeping across the land, like a mighty army moving into battle. The locusts marched like warriors, never breaking ranks, never jostling each other. Each moved according to the orders of the Commander, swarming over walls, entering houses through the windows. The earth quaked as they advanced and the heavens trembled. The ground undulated black. Every stalk of wheat and spelt, every tree was consumed by the advancing horde God had called into battle.
It won’t be long now, Kelubai thought, watching the road for his father and brothers.
Kenaz came alone. “Jerahmeel rages against the god of the Hebrews for destroying the last of his crops.”
“And Father?”
“You know Father cannot leave without his eldest son.”
“And Jerahmeel will not come because it was I who suggested it. He is the fool!”
“You did not suggest, Kelubai. You commanded. Your manner did not sit well with our brothers.” Kenaz smiled. “Since I am the youngest, it matters not what I think or whom I follow.”
“You’re wrong about that, my brother. You’ve shown courage by coming of your own free will, rather than bending to the will of those older and fiercer, but far less wise, than you.” He looked toward the west. “If Pharaoh does not let the Hebrews go, there will be another plague, and another. Jerahmeel will change his mind.”
Trading and bartering for goatskins, Kelubai enlarged his tent enough to shelter his brothers and their families when they came.
Another plague did come, one of darkness upon the land of Egypt. But when Moses and Aaron returned to Goshen, they brought ill tidings of Pharaoh’s fury. He would not allow the people to go with their flocks and herds, and he had threatened Moses that if Pharaoh ever saw him again, he’d kill him.
When Kelubai stood on the outer edge of the Jewish congregation and heard the instructions given by Moses’ messenger, he knew the end was coming. He returned to his camp and told Azubah he must go back and bring their father to Goshen. “You must stay here with her, Kenaz, and keep this camp secure. Now that the darkness has lifted from Egypt, others will come seeking refuge among the Hebrews. Hold our ground against them!”
Hastening to his father’s house, he found his older brothers had gathered their families. “Another plague is coming!” Kelubai was thankful the locusts and darkness had made them willing to listen. “I heard with my own ears that all the firstborn sons will die in every family in Egypt, from the oldest son of Pharaoh, who sits on the throne, to the oldest son of his lowliest slave. Even the firstborn of the animals will die.”
Everyone looked at Jerahmeel, and he paled. Jerahmeel looked at Kelubai with new respect. “You came back to save my life?”
“We are brothers, are we not? But it is not only your life I want spared, Jerahmeel, but those of your firstborn son and the firstborn of all my brothers. Remember! Every firstborn son.”
Hezron stood. “We will return to Goshen with Kelubai. Our animals are all dead. What little grain we had hidden away for sustenance was eaten by locusts. There is nothing to hold us here.”
They journeyed to Goshen willingly, setting up tents close by Kelubai’s camp. He called them together as soon as they were settled. “Listen to what the Lord instructed Moses. Each family is to sacrifice a year-old lamb or goat without defect.” The blood would be smeared over the entrance to their tent, and they must remain inside until death passed over them. The lamb or goat was to be roasted with bitter herbs and eaten with bread made without yeast. “We are to wear sandals, traveling clothes, and have walking sticks in our hands as we eat this meal.”
When the night of the forewarned plague came, Kelubai, his wife and children, Kenaz, his father Hezron, and fourteen others stood around the fire pit as a goat roasted over the hot coals. Trembling in fear, they obeyed Moses’ instructions exactly, hoping everyone inside the thin canopy would survive the night.
Kelubai heard a sound moving overhead, a whispering wind that made his blood run cold. He felt a dark presence press down upon them, press in from the thin leather flap that served as their door. All within the circle held their breath and pressed closer to one another. Kelubai shoved Mesha and Jerahmeel into the center of the family circle. “You die; we all die.” Jerahmeel looked around, confused, shaken. When screams rent the cold night air, Azubah grasped Kelubai’s robe and hid her face in its folds while their sons hugged close around him. A man screamed, and everyone in Kelubai’s shelter jumpe
d.
“We’re all going to die!” Some began to weep.
“We won’t die.” Kelubai spoke with a confidence he was far from feeling. “Not if we put our faith in the unseen God.”
Jerahmeel held his oldest son by the shoulders, keeping him close. “We’ve only goatskin to cover us, Kelubai, while the Hebrews have mud-brick huts and doors.”
“Something is out there. . . .”
Fear grew in the room, fanned by more screams from outside. The children whimpered; the circle tightened.
“We must follow the instructions.” Kelubai cut meat from the goat. He strove to keep his voice calm. “See to the bread, Azubah.” She rose to obey.
“How can you expect us to eat at a time like this?”
“Because the God of Abraham demands it.” Kelubai held out a slice of goat meat to his father. Hezron took it. “Give thanks to the God of Abraham for His protection from this plague of death.”
Kelubai swallowed his fear and forced himself to eat the Passover meal. Tomorrow will bring our freedom!
Egyptians came running toward Goshen, crying out, “Leave! Go quickly!”
“Pharaoh has relented!”
“Go as quickly as you can or all of us will die!”
“Hurry!”
“Here! Take this grain as a gift. Plead with your god for my life.”
“Take my silver.”
“Here is my gold!”
“Pray for us!”
“Away with you! Hurry!”
Others clutched at the Hebrews’ robes, pleading, “Please, let us walk with you, for we’ve heard God is with you!”
Kelubai accepted the proffered gifts as his sons stripped down the goatskin coverings and yanked up the tent poles. He laughed. “Didn’t I tell you all that our freedom was at hand?” Who would have imagined that God would make the Egyptians pour offerings upon them as they begged them to leave? Kelubai raised his hands in the air and shouted, “What a mighty God You are!” Laughing joyously, Kelubai heaved the last gift onto his cart. “Our taskmasters shower us with gifts and plead with us to leave!”