He wasn't born a leader, that's for sure.
For forty long years, he was a shepherd for his father-in-law, Jethro. And let me tell you, he was a good one! Jethro had no complaints. According to the Legends of the Jews, not a single sheep was lost to wild beasts under Moses' watch. And the flocks? They multiplied like crazy!
Now, you might think shepherding is a simple life, out in nature, peaceful. But imagine this: Moses once drove those sheep for forty days straight, searching for pasture in the barren desert. Forty days! That's some serious dedication. And get this – not a single sheep was lost!
But why the desert? What was it about that desolate landscape that drew Moses in?
Well, some say he had a prophetic sense. A deep knowing that his own destiny, and the destiny of Israel, was intertwined with the desert. As Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews tells us, Moses foresaw that the desert would be where God's wonders would manifest.
Think about it: the burning bush, the manna from heaven, the giving of the Torah (the first five books of the Hebrew Bible) at Mount Sinai. All in the desert.
But there's a darker side to this connection. The desert, as we find in Midrash Rabbah, would also become the "grave of the human herd" – the very people Moses would lead out of Egypt. And, tragically, it would also be his own final resting place.
So, from the very beginning, Moses had this presentiment, this feeling that the desert would be the stage for his life's work. It was true then, and some believe it will be true again in the "latter days."
The tradition says that Moses will return to the desert, to lead a resurrected generation into the promised land, just like he led their ancestors out of Egyptian bondage. That's a powerful image, isn’t it? This idea that the past is always connected to the future, that the desert holds both death and rebirth.
So, the next time you think of Moses, remember the shepherd in the wilderness. Remember his connection to the desert, a place of both immense hardship and incredible revelation. It’s a reminder that even in the most desolate places, there is always the potential for something extraordinary to emerge.