That's the scenario we find ourselves in, according to some fascinating threads in Jewish legend. Let's dive in.
The story, found within Legends of the Jews, paints a picture of the serpent – you know, that serpent – after the incident in the Garden of Eden. He's on a mission. A mission to find MOSES, the son of Amram. But why? The text doesn't explicitly say. We can assume the serpent recognizes the threat MOSES poses to his dominion over humanity.
So, where does he begin his search? He starts with the tree of knowledge. Remember that tree? The one that bore the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil? He figures, surely, this ancient being must have seen MOSES.
"Hast thou seen the son of Amram?" he asks, dripping with venom, no doubt.
But the tree replies, "Since the day on which he came to me to get a writing reed, wherewith to write the Torah, I have not seen him."
Wow. Even the Tree of Knowledge acknowledges MOSES' importance. He needed a reed from it to write the Torah! And the tree, despite its own history with deception, offers no help to the serpent. It's almost… respectful.
Undeterred, or perhaps even more agitated, the serpent turns to the mountains. Surely, they have witnessed the passage of this MOSES. These colossal, ancient formations, witnesses to millennia, must hold the answer.
"Have you seen the son of Amram?" he hisses at the silent peaks.
But the mountains echo the tree's response. "Since he hewed the two tables out of us, we have not seen him."
Again, the response is telling. The mountains acknowledge MOSES' profound impact. He carved the luchot (tablets) of the covenant from their very being! The tablets containing the Aseret haDibrot (Ten Commandments). Yet, they offer no further information, no clue to his whereabouts.
Finally, in desperation, the serpent slithers into the vast, unforgiving deserts. If anyone has seen MOSES, it would be the desert, right? The place where the Israelites wandered for forty years, led by none other than – you guessed it – MOSES.
"Have ye seen the son of Amram?" he demands of the shifting sands.
And the deserts reply, "Since he has ceased to lead Israel to pasture upon us, we have not seen him."
The desert's response is particularly poignant. It speaks of MOSES as a shepherd, a leader guiding his flock. He provided for them, even in the most desolate of places. And now, that presence is gone.
What are we to make of all this? The serpent's desperate search, the world's consistent, almost reverent, deflection? It highlights MOSES' unparalleled significance. He's not just a man; he's a force of nature, a figure whose actions resonate throughout creation. The tree, the mountains, the desert – they all bear witness to his impact, yet they guard his secret.
Perhaps the real lesson here is that true greatness, true righteousness, can't be found through malice or deceit. The serpent’s quest is doomed from the start, not because MOSES is hidden, but because the serpent’s very nature prevents him from understanding what he seeks.