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The Rod in Jethro's Garden Had Waited Since Eden

Moses asked for Zipporah and Jethro set one condition. There was a rod in the garden that every suitor before Moses had tried and failed to move.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Fugitive at the Well
  2. The Rod No One Could Move
  3. What Moses Did in the Garden
  4. The Rod as Instrument

The Fugitive at the Well

Moses sat down at the well in Midian not knowing what came next. He had killed an Egyptian taskmaster in Egypt, had watched two Hebrews fighting the following day and been asked by one of them: do you mean to kill me as you killed the Egyptian? He had run before Pharaoh could arrest him. He was sixty-six years old, having spent forty years as the king of Cush before being sent away from that kingdom with honor but without a future. He was a man without a country sitting at a well in a place he had never been, and the seven daughters who came to draw water that afternoon had no idea who he was.

He drove off the shepherds who were abusing the women, drew water for them, and helped them water the flocks. They went home and told their father an Egyptian had helped them. Moses was invited to the household and stayed. He gave his name as Moses the Egyptian and did not correct it when the family used the designation. The tradition notes this as a small failure of self-declaration: Joseph, who had said publicly that he was a Hebrew, was buried in the land of the Hebrews. Moses, who allowed himself to be called an Egyptian, would die outside that land.

The Rod No One Could Move

When Moses asked for Zipporah's hand, Zipporah warned him about what her father required. There was a rod planted in the garden. Every man who had come to court one of Jethro's daughters had been invited to try to pull it from the earth. None had succeeded. Several had been killed by it.

The rod's history was long. It had been created at twilight on the sixth day of Creation, in the last hour before God rested, as one of ten primordial objects made outside the natural order. Adam had carried it out of Eden. It had passed to Enoch, then to Noah, then to Shem, then to Abraham, then to Isaac, then to Jacob, who had used it to cross the Jordan with nothing else when he fled from Esau and who had brought it down to Egypt when the family descended. Joseph had received it in Egypt and had it in his possession when he died. It had been carried to Jethro's house in Midian and planted in the garden, and there it had stayed, waiting, rooted in the earth, killing the men who tried to uproot it.

What Moses Did in the Garden

Moses walked into the garden and read the inscription on the rod. It was engraved with the name of God and with the ten plagues that would fall on Egypt. He took hold of it and drew it from the earth without effort. Jethro, watching from the house, understood what this meant: this was the man for whom the rod had been waiting since the first Sabbath eve of the world. He came out and gave his daughter Zipporah in marriage and with her the rod, and Moses carried it with him back to Egypt, and before Pharaoh he raised it, and the plagues the rod named fell on Egypt one by one.

Zipporah herself would turn out to be the sharper-minded of the two in certain moments. When Moses was on the road back to Egypt with his family and God's presence came against him in a night attack that would have killed him, Zipporah took a flint knife and circumcised their son and touched Moses with the blood, saying: you are a bridegroom of blood to me. The attack withdrew. Moses had almost died on the road to the mission God had just given him, and it was his wife who understood in a moment what needed to be done and did it before he could think through the implications.

The Rod as Instrument

The rod Moses carried was not just a staff. It had been a vehicle for the divine will from the beginning, passing through each generation of the patriarchal line until the right hands could hold it. It split the sea. It drew water from the rock. It turned into a serpent before Pharaoh and swallowed the serpents the Egyptian magicians produced. It stretched over Egypt during the plague of hail. It stretched over the Red Sea and the sea divided.

When Moses lifted it, the people prevailed in the battle against Amalek. When his arms grew heavy and other hands held them up, the battle turned again in their favor. The rod was an extension of Moses, and Moses was an extension of the promise that had been inscribed on the rod before anyone living had been born.


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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews, IV. Moses In Egypt, Moses Marries ZipporahLegends of the Jews

Moses encountered seven maidens at a well. One of them, Zipporah, caught his eye with her modesty. He proposed marriage, but Zipporah wasn't immediately swept off her feet. She told him about her father's unusual "screening process" for potential suitors.

Her father, Jethro (also known as Reuel), had a magical tree in his garden. Any man who dared to touch it, hoping to marry one of his daughters, would be instantly devoured!

"Whence has he the tree?" Moses asked.

Zipporah explains that this wasn't just any tree; it was actually a rod! The rod. The one created by God on the eve of the first Sabbath, given to Adam, passed down through generations to Noah, Shem, Abraham, Isaac, and finally to Jacob, who brought it to Egypt. When Joseph died, it ended up in Pharaoh’s palace before Jethro, a sacred scribe, stole it. This rod, Zipporah reveals, had the Ineffable Name of God engraved on it, along with prophecies of the ten plagues to come. (Wow, ) When Jethro planted the rod in his garden, it took root and blossomed. That’s when he decided to use it to test his daughters’ suitors.

Zipporah and her sisters returned home, with Moses following close behind. Jethro was surprised to see his daughters back so early – usually the shepherds gave them a hard time. Hearing about the "wonderworking Egyptian," Jethro wondered if Moses might be a descendant of Abraham, bringing blessing to the world. He scolded his daughters for not inviting him in, hoping he would marry one of them.

Moses, standing outside, let them call him an Egyptian without correcting them. According to the legend, God later punished him for this, causing him to die outside the Promised Land. Joseph, who publicly declared himself a Hebrew, was buried in the land of the Hebrews, while Moses, who didn't object to being seen as an Egyptian, was denied that final homecoming.

Zipporah brought Moses inside, and he immediately asked for her hand in marriage. Jethro proposed a challenge: "If thou canst bring me the rod in my garden, I will give her to thee."

Moses, of course, succeeded. He uprooted the rod – the same sapphire rod given to Adam when he was cast out of Paradise – and brought it to Jethro. Upon seeing this, Jethro feared Moses was the prophet who would destroy Egypt, as foretold by his wise men.

In a panic, Jethro threw Moses into a pit, hoping he would die. Talk about a father-in-law from hell! But Zipporah, resourceful and loyal, devised a plan to save him. She convinced her father to let her take care of the household while her sisters tended the flocks. This allowed her to secretly provide food and water to Moses in the pit for seven long years.

After seven years, Zipporah confronted her father. She reminded him of the man who retrieved the rod and suggested he check on him. If he was dead, they could dispose of the body. But if he was alive, it would prove his righteousness.

Jethro, finally relenting, opened the pit and called out, "Moses! Moses!"

"Here am I!" Moses replied.

Jethro pulled him out, kissed him, and declared, "Blessed be God, who guarded thee for seven years in the pit. I acknowledge that He slayeth and reviveth, that thou art one of the wholly pious, that through thee God will destroy Egypt in time to come, lead His people out of the land, and drown Pharaoh and his whole army in the sea."

Jethro then gave Moses money and his daughter Zipporah in marriage, with one condition: that the children born in Jethro's house would be divided, one group considered Israelite, the other Egyptian.

When Zipporah gave birth to a son, Moses circumcised him and named him Gershom, meaning "a stranger there," to commemorate God's help in a foreign land. After two years, Zipporah bore a second son. Moses, remembering his agreement with Jethro, decided to return to Egypt so he could raise his second son as an Israelite.

But the journey wasn't easy. Satan appeared as a serpent and swallowed Moses! Zipporah, recognizing the danger, quickly circumcised her second son. As she sprinkled the blood of the circumcision on Moses' feet, a heavenly voice commanded the serpent to "Spew him out!" And Moses was saved.

Twice Zipporah saved Moses' life – once from the pit and once from the serpent. What an amazing woman.

Upon arriving in Egypt, Moses was met with skepticism and fear. Dathan and Abiram, leaders of the Israelites, questioned his intentions, reminding him of the Egyptian he had slain. This sent Moses back to Midian for two more years until God revealed Himself at Horeb, commanding him to lead His people out of Egypt.

So, what can we take away from this incredible story? Perhaps it's a reminder that even the greatest leaders need strong partners. Zipporah wasn't just a wife; she was a protector, a strategist, and a woman of deep faith. And maybe it also shows us that even the most unusual beginnings can lead to extraordinary destinies.

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Legends of the Jews 4:130Legends of the Jews

The Bible is full of such moments, and they often hinge on the quick thinking and bravery of… well, usually women.

Think about Moses. We know him as the great leader, the lawgiver, the one who spoke to God face-to-face. But early in his story, he's just a guy, newly married to Zipporah, daughter of Jethro (also called Reuel), a Midianite priest. He's tending his father-in-law's flocks, a far cry from the palaces of Egypt.

The text we have doesn't explicitly say Moses is about to perish here. But bear with me. It sets the stage for a later, much more dramatic, near-death experience found in (Exodus 4:24-26). This passage, frankly, is weird. God confronts Moses, seemingly intent on killing him! Why? Because Moses hasn't circumcised his son.

Let’s back up and look at how Zipporah even came to be in Moses' life. Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, builds up the backstory, painting a picture of Zipporah's intelligence and courage. Jethro had seven daughters, but no wife to manage the household. As we see here, Zipporah saw an opportunity to both protect her sisters and show her own worth.

She suggests a switch: "Would it were thy will to hearken unto my counsel. Thou hast no wife, but only seven daughters. Dost thou desire my six sisters to preside over thy household? Then shall I go abroad with the sheep. If not, let my sisters tend the flocks, and I shall take care of the house."

Jethro agrees, impressed by her wisdom. "Thou hast spoken well. Thy six sisters shall go forth with the sheep, and thou shalt abide in the house and take care of it, and all that belongeth to me therein."

So, what does this have to do with Moses almost dying? Well, it establishes Zipporah as a woman of action, someone who is not afraid to take charge.

Later, when God comes after Moses, it is Zipporah who understands what must be done. She swiftly circumcises her son and touches Moses’ feet with the foreskin, saying, "Surely a bridegroom of blood art thou to me" (Exodus 4:25). And just like that, the danger passes.

Now, the why of this whole circumcision episode is debated endlessly by commentators. Was it a test of Moses' obedience? A clash between different religious customs? Did Zipporah resent the act, as some interpretations suggest? The Torah doesn't spell it out.

But one thing is clear: Zipporah's quick thinking saved Moses' life. Without her intervention, who knows what would have happened? Perhaps there would be no Exodus, no Ten Commandments, no foundational story of the Jewish people.

It's a powerful reminder that even the greatest leaders depend on the courage and wisdom of those around them – especially the women. And it highlights a beautiful theme that runs throughout Jewish tradition: that life, even in the face of divine wrath, is precious and worth fighting for. What do you think? Are there other unsung heroes in the Torah that we overlook?

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Legends of the Jews 4:120Legends of the Jews

He's seeking refuge after fleeing Egypt, and what does he find? Shepherds behaving… well, terribly.

The Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, paints a vivid picture. It wasn’t just a little jostling at the well. These shepherds weren’t just rude; they were outright bullies! They snatched the water that some young women had painstakingly drawn, tried to harm them, and then, incredibly, tossed them into the well with murderous intent. Can you imagine witnessing that?

Then, out of nowhere, Moses appears. Our hero. He doesn't hesitate. He rescues the maidens. He pulls them from the water. He’s a protector, a defender of the vulnerable.

It doesn't stop there. He then waters the flocks – first the flock belonging to Jethro, the priest of Midian, and then even the flocks of those awful shepherds. Though, let’s be honest, they probably didn’t deserve such kindness.

And here’s where the story takes a turn into the wondrous. It wasn’t some Herculean effort on Moses' part. He simply drew one bucket of water, and the well just… flowed. An abundance poured forth, enough for all the animals. It didn’t stop until Moses stepped away.

This wasn’t just any well. This was the well. The very same well where Jacob, centuries before, had met Rachel, his future wife. A well with deep significance, a well of destiny.

And according to tradition, this well was even more special than that. The Legends tell us it was created by God himself during the twilight of the first Sabbath eve, that liminal space between the holy day and the rest of creation. Moses, standing at a well created at the dawn of time, a well of encounters, a well of abundance. A well that ties together generations and destinies. He intervenes, showing compassion even to those who don't deserve it, and the well responds with a miracle.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? What ancient wells of potential lie within us, waiting for us to act with kindness and courage? What miracles might unfold if we, like Moses, choose to stand up for what's right, even when it's difficult? Maybe, just maybe, we too can tap into a source of abundance that flows beyond our wildest dreams.

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Legends of the Jews 4:117Legends of the Jews

The tale begins when Moses, at the ripe old age of 67, leaves Ethiopia. Ginzberg, in Legends of the Jews, tells us this was the moment divinely appointed to liberate Israel from the harsh rule of the descendants of Ham. But here's the thing: Moses was understandably hesitant to return to Egypt, what with that whole "killing an Egyptian" incident hanging over his head. So, he heads to Midian.

Midian itself is an interesting place. It gets its name from a son of Abraham and Keturah. And in this city lived a man named Jethro. Now, Jethro wasn't just anyone; he was a priest... a priest serving idols.

As time passed, Jethro began to question everything. The futility of idol worship gnawed at him. His priestly duties became abhorrent. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. He decided to resign.

The scene: Jethro stands before his community and declares, "Until now, I've served your idols, but I'm too old for this. Choose someone else!" He hands over all the paraphernalia, all the ritual objects associated with the idol worship, and basically says, "Your call now."

But the people of Midian? They weren't stupid. They suspected Jethro's motives. They figured he was up to something, maybe even renouncing their gods. And so, they placed him under a herem (חֵרֶם), a ban. No one was allowed to help him, not even in the smallest way. The shepherds refused to graze his flocks. He was completely ostracized.

And so, what was Jethro to do? He had seven daughters, and out of necessity, he entrusted them with the task of tending his flocks. A former priest, now dependent on his daughters for survival, living under a cloud of suspicion. It's a far cry from the burning bush. It's these little-known details, these quiet moments before the storm, that often reveal the most about the characters we think we know. They show us the world Moses was entering, the kind of society he was about to encounter. And perhaps, they even hint at the kind of leader he was destined to become.

What does it mean to stand up for what you believe in, even when it means facing isolation? Maybe, just maybe, it's precisely that kind of courage that prepares you for something truly extraordinary.

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Legends of the Jews 4:200Legends of the Jews

Moses certainly did. No wonder he had a few… questions.

Moses, as we know from the Book of Exodus, wasn't exactly thrilled with the assignment. He felt inadequate, unprepared. Who was he to stand before Pharaoh, the most powerful man in Egypt? And what if the Israelites themselves didn’t even deserve to be saved? It's a heavy burden to carry, the weight of a people's freedom on your shoulders.

God, in His infinite patience, overturned every single one of Moses' objections. As Legends of the Jews tells us, God reassured him, saying, "I will be with thee." It’s a powerful promise, isn't it? "Whatever thou desirest I will do, so that the redemption will in very truth be realized through Me, in accordance with My promise to Jacob." God wasn't just offering assistance; He was promising to be present in the process, ensuring the redemption would be a true one, a fulfillment of His ancient promise.

God even addressed Moses' practical concerns. "The little ones that Israel will carry up out of Egypt I will provide with food for thirty days." It's a small detail, perhaps, but it speaks volumes. God wasn't just focused on the grand scheme of liberation; He was concerned with the immediate needs of the most vulnerable. "This shall prove to thee in what manner I will supply the needs of all." A demonstration of divine provision, a reassurance that no one would be left behind.

And what about Moses' doubts about the Israelites’ worthiness? God had an answer for that too. He said they would be permitted to leave Egypt on account of the merits they would acquire at the mountain, Har Sinai, where they would receive the Torah, the sacred law, through Moses himself. Their future acceptance of the Torah, even before it happened, became a justification for their redemption. It’s a fascinating idea: that potential for good can be a powerful force for change.

Finally, God corrected Moses’ understanding of the timeline. Moses was worried that the prophesied 400 years of bondage hadn’t yet passed. But God clarified that the count began with the birth of Isaac, not with Jacob's descent into Egypt. "Therefore," God declared, "the appointed end hath come."

It's easy to get bogged down in details and lose sight of the bigger picture. Moses, understandably, was caught up in logistics and doubts. But God, with His divine perspective, saw the whole tapestry, the unfolding of a promise centuries in the making. And He reminded Moses that the time for redemption had finally arrived.

What does this story tell us? Perhaps it’s a reminder that even when we feel overwhelmed, inadequate, and unsure, we are not alone. That even in the face of impossible odds, there is a power greater than ourselves that can guide us, provide for us, and help us fulfill our purpose. And maybe, just maybe, that potential for good within us is enough to spark a little redemption in our own lives and the lives of those around us.

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Bereshit Rabbah 96:3Bereshit Rabbah

The ancient Rabbis certainly noticed it. They saw it woven into the very fabric of the Torah, these moments where authority seems to… loosen.

Our story today comes from Bereshit Rabbah 96, a section of the great Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) collection that explores the book of Genesis in painstaking, loving detail. It grapples with the verse, "The time for Israel…approached." What does it mean when someone's time is near?

The verse from Ecclesiastes (8:8) sets the stage: "There is no person who rules the spirit to retain the spirit, and there is no dominion on the day of death." Death, the great leveler, seems to strip away even the most firmly held power. But how does that manifest in life?

Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, quoting Rabbi Levi, offers a fascinating image. Remember the silver trumpets Moses crafted in the wilderness? The ones used to assemble the people, to announce important events? Well, as Moses neared his end, the Holy One, blessed be He, sequestered those trumpets. They wouldn't be used by anyone else. They would, in a sense, return to their creator. When God needs to assemble the elders, Moses himself has to request their presence, rather than simply having the trumpets blown as he would have in the past. As (Deuteronomy 31:28) says: “Assemble to me all the elders of your tribes." This, says the Midrash, is an example of "no dominion on the day of death."

But the Midrash doesn't stop there. It dives into another, perhaps more challenging, example: the story of Zimri and Pinḥas (Numbers 25). Zimri, you might recall, brazenly brought a Midianite woman into his tent, defying God’s law and the entire community. Pinḥas, filled with righteous zeal, acted decisively, killing them both. The text says, "He went after the man of Israel into the tent" (Numbers 25:8). But where was Moses in all of this? Shouldn’t he have intervened?

The Midrash asks, "Where was Moses? And would Pinḥas speak before Moses?" The answer, again, is tied to the idea that "there is no dominion on the day of death." Death, in this context, isn't just physical. It's a kind of "lowering," a diminishment of authority. Pinḥas rises to the occasion, stepping into a void, while Moses, nearing his end, is… less present, less dominant. Salvation was given to Pinḥas, and Moses was lowered.

The Midrash draws parallels with other figures. King David, in his old age, also experiences a shift. Notice the subtle change in wording in (1 Kings 2:1). It doesn't say, "The time for King David to die approached," but simply, "The time for David to die approached." Even the mighty David, the shepherd boy who became king, experiences this leveling.

And then there's Jacob, also known as Israel – hence the opening verse. As Jacob approached death, he began to humble himself before his son, Joseph. He pleads, "Please, if I have found favor in your eyes." Why this sudden deference? The Midrash sees it as another manifestation of this principle: "The time for Israel to die approached."

What are we to make of all this? It's not simply about the physical act of dying. It’s about the delicate dance of power, authority, and legacy. It suggests that as we approach the end of our journey, whatever form that takes, there's a natural, perhaps even divinely ordained, shift in the landscape. Others rise, new voices emerge, and even the most powerful among us experience a humbling. Perhaps it's a reminder that true leadership isn't about clinging to power, but about preparing the way for those who will come after us. A thought to ponder, isn’t it?

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Sifrei Devarim 15:1Sifrei Devarim

The familiar picture has him as this towering, almost superhuman figure, but behind the miracles and the commandments, there was a real person confronting a monumental task. And sometimes, the smallest verses can reveal the biggest insights.

Take this little gem from Sifrei Devarim (Deuteronomy 1:15): "And I took the heads of your tribes." But the Rabbis, in their infinite wisdom, saw something deeper. The text doesn't just say he appointed them; it says he "took" them. And how did he "take" them? With words. for a second. Moses, the great leader, had to convince people to take on leadership roles. He had to persuade them. But what was his pitch? What made it so compelling?

In Sifrei Devarim, Moses appealed to their sense of community, to their responsibility to their people. He said, "How fortunate you are! For whom are you coming to be appointed? For the sons of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.."

Isn't that beautiful? He reminded them of their lineage, of their shared history. He painted a picture of the Israelites not just as a random group of people, but as a family, a close-knit community. He called them "brothers," "friends," "the lot of His inheritance," "the flock of His grazing" – a whole litany of terms of endearment.

He was essentially saying, "This isn't just a job; it's a calling. You're serving your own family, your own people, the people God cherishes." He emphasized that they were part of something bigger than themselves.

It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? What kind of leader do you want to be? Do you want to rule with an iron fist, or do you want to inspire with words of encouragement and love? Moses, in this moment, chose the latter. He understood that true leadership isn't about power; it's about service, about reminding people of their shared identity and their common purpose.

And isn't that a powerful lesson for all of us, whether we're leading a nation or simply navigating our own lives? To remember that we're all connected, that we're all part of something bigger, and that sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is offer a kind word.

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