Caleb instantly shouted back, his voice half pleading, half protesting: “If God is pleased with us—if we do not lose faith in Him—He will surely give us wine from vines we did not plant, honey from hives we did not tend. God is with us! We should go up into the land, just as He has instructed us, and take it!”

    Another frantic voice rang out from the crowd: “Would you have our children serve as concubines and eunuchs to the Jebusites and the Philistines? Do you wish your own flesh to be sword fodder for the sons of Anak?”

    Now Joshua spoke up: “Have you forgotten so soon what mighty acts the Lord has already performed on our behalf? Is the Red Sea crossing so dim in your memories that you now doubt His strength? Is there a man here who has forgotten the taste of the quail and the manna? Have we not already gained victory over the armies of Pharaoh and the Amalekites by the arm of the Lord? Why shouldn’t we be able to go in and take this land the Lord has prepared for us?”

    A sneer arose: “The Amalekites are a rabble of nomadic herdsmen, not an entrenched people with strongholds!”

    I felt my heart skip as I awaited Joshua’s reply. At length, he smiled and pointed southwest, toward Egypt.

    “The other spies have spoken of God’s chosen as grasshoppers. So be it. Do you remember the locusts He brought against Pharaoh? Are we less mighty than they?”

    I felt my whole being flush with pride at the way he threw the naysayer’s words back in his teeth. But the crowd was unmoved. &#!47;Away with these fools!” some of them cried. “We will not listen to these madmen!” A few of them sprang up and grasped Caleb ad Joshua, throwing them roughly to the ground at Moses’ feet, but pausing before doing anything more, Joshua and Caleb looked up at Moses.

    I watched the leader for some sign of his next action. For ten long breaths Moses stood glaring at the men. Then he sank slowly to his knees. He grasped the neck of his tunic and ripped it apart. A mournful wail emanated from his soul as he raised his eyes to heaven and clawed the dust with his hands.

    The rebels had expected anything from Moses—except grief. They staggered back from Joshua and Caleb, unnerved by his reaction.

    By now, Aaron, too, was kneeling on the ground, rocking to and fro, groaning and ripping his garments. The mob backed away, dropping the stones they had been nervously handling. Their anger and fear were less passionate than their awe of Moses and his reputation. Caleb and Joshua mingled their voices in the weeping.

    I was numb. How could our painful journey be climaxed by this display of cowardly outbursts, and four solitary, brave men weeping in the dust?

    Then, from the tabernacle, a glow dimmed the midmorning sun as thunder rumbles suddenly across the settlement. I crouched behind a rock, but peeked out to see Moses walking to the tabernacle, his face glowing in its light, his eyes wide with wonder.

    The terrible stabs of light and thunder went on for hours. At last I dared to crawl from my cover and stagger away, dragging my emotions behind me like a block of granite.

    When I arrived home, my family still cowered in our tent with their arms over their heads, though the Voice by then had grown silent. Dazed and exhausted, I collapsed face down upon my pallet.

    I was awakened by my father shaking my shoulder. “Arise, son,” he was saying. “Moses has summoned us.”

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