With this pair of chapters, I think it is the details, the choice of words here and there, which is perhaps most striking.  We are also granted another glimpse of the frank, even somewhat stormy, relationship Moses has with God.

In the good old days...

It is striking that the section opens "now when the people complained..." as if it is pretty miuch a given that they will.  We recall from Exodus that the grumbling and mumbling  began almost as soon as they left Egypt, now we hear it again, only this time with some different details... there is a 'rabble' craving rich food and people as a whole are weeping.  It may be, so let's name it and move on, that this is another version of the material in Exodus, but it may not be.  I'm choosing the latter, because it seems plausible and perhaps more realistic - looking back to "the good old days" is rarely a one off, it is something that can recur whenever people are tired or demoralised or dispirited.  Back in Egypt... In the good old days...

It can be hard to keep moving forward when the going is tough, hard to put our trust in leaders who, perhaps, we feel have forgotten what we remember.  It can be hard not to give way to rose-tinted remembering whilst conveniently forgetting all that used to annoy or oppress us.

It can be equally hard to stay positive, to keep looking forward when others are clearly struggling.  Not wilfully opposing or undermining, not being a 'rabble' but perhaps being among those who find it all too much. If not weeping, maybe experiencing some sort of inner turmoil.

It's all too much

Last Sunday evening, on a spur of the moment decision, I went to a church service which was exploring something around the idea of where and how we might encounter God.  One of the readings was the account of Elijah on Mount Horeb and his utter despair, so much so that he wanted to die.  Such stories both trouble and reassure us - these were real people with real emotions.  We see something similar here.

Moses looks around and it's all too much for him, he turns his anger to God and lets rip...  Why have you done this to me?  Am I the mother of these people (interesting to ponder with tomorrow being Mothers' Day)?  What have I done to cause you to do this to me?

Just as with Elijah, the response from God is largely practical.  Moses is to appoint 70 people to help him... Perhaps another clear overlap with, or repeat of, the Exodus narrative where his father-in-law tells him to do this, albeit this time with a divine mandate.  Or maybe, and I think this is a legitimate reading, it is the same seventy men called out again, and this time, seemingly on a one-off basis, granted a measure of spirit normally granted to Moses.

It is, I think, at least in my own experience, easy to delegate or devolve responsibility nominally, to give people a role and then not really let them exercise it.  I don't mean micro-management, that interferes with every detail (though clearly that would be possible) but almost the opposite, just carrying on taking on too much and then getting angry, upset, stressy or disillusioned along the way.

I find it strangely reassuring to think that Moses, and others in the scriptures, were as slow to learn thigns as sometimes I am or we are!!

You want meat...

Oh how I love the form of God's response to the demand for meat... you want it, you'll have it.  Meat for breakfast, meat for dinner, meat for tea.  Meat until it's coming out of your noses... 

I often joke that when I was seeking settlement last time around, and whilst having expressed a willingness to go anywhere, had noted a preference for "Midlands and North" (assuming of England), and that God's repsonse was, you want north, my child, I'll give you north.  Thankfully, what God gave me bore no resemblance to what happened for the Israelites... I haven't been glutted with northness!

The quails arrived and the people, at least some of them, gorged themselves on the meat... and some of them became so ill they died.  This is described as God sending a plague on them, but I suspect a reasonable, rational explanation would be severe food poisoning caused by eating poorly prepared meat.

It's a strange story, and I'm not going to look for a neat moral, but there is something, I guess about the old adage to "be careful what you wish for"... sometimes what we think will make us happy or fulfilled actually just brings unexpected challenges and disappointments of its own.  And of course sometimes, as in my desire for 'north', it can surprise us with the unexpected.

Now that's not fair...

This section ends with Aaron and Miriam coming to Moses to raise objection to his Cushite wife - for, we are told, he has a  Cushite wife.  God becomes angry with the two of them - there is no-one as humble as Moses, how dare they speak against him?  And when the cloud lifts, Miriam's skin has become leprous whilst Aaron, former maker of golden calf and now ordained as priest, seems to get off with no ill effects.  Sorry, but that's not fair!  It's another example of am emerging society in which women bore the consequences and men could, seemingly, get away with whatever they did.

... But the people wait...

Miriam was shut out of the camp for seven days as a result of her skin condition.  And the people waited for those days to pass before they set off again.  They could have gone on without her.  Could have given up on her.  Could have left her where she was at the mercy of the elements or any other nomadic wanderers.  But they waited.

Sometimes it is really challenging in any situation to wait for others.  Not those those who might be deemed 'unclean' but those who maybe need more time to come to terms with ideas or changes, new thinking or experimental practices.  Hard for those who are inspired or excited by the new; equally hard for those who need time to think, to pray, to adjust.

There have been times when I've needed years to work through ideas - sometimes I think I should just give in and go with them, because, thus far, I've never gone back to an old 'place' afterwards.  And sometimes once I've 'got it' it's hard both to continue to make time and space for others who are still working it out, whilst not frustrating those who think things really ought to move further and faster.

There have also been times when I've wanted to move on faster and further than others were ready for, and have had to learn to wait, to adjust, to adapt.

Waiting, being patient, these are not my greatest gifts - at least in relation to myself.

I've never understood why Miriam suffered and Aaron didn't, and I guess there will always be situations that make no sense to me, but I am moved, encouraged and challenged by the small, important detail that the whole people waited for her to be ready before they moved on again.

Today is my Dad's birthday - had he still been alive, he would have been 91 years old today.

Today is my maternal Grandma's birthday - had she still been alive, she would have been 109 years old today.

Today the "Book of Memories" I created for my Mum as a Mothers' Day gift arrived - that seemed somehow appropriate.

It's almost 26 years since my Dad died, and I was then 27 years old - I've lived almost as long since as I did before.  As time passes, I am aware of memories changing, becoming more mellow, more forgivning or understanding (we didn't always have an easy relationship, though at the end we were properly at peace with each other).

It's nearly 20 years since my Grandma died, just weeks after one of my nieces was born.  It's curious to observe a young woman making her way in a world my Grandma never knew.  Curious too to ponder the absence of any memory of my Grandma for most, if not all, of my nieces and nephews.

The next project I have in mind for my Mum is a playlist for life - a collection of music that will hopefully prompt memories for her, inspire conversations and above all bring moments of joy.

It is moving and challenging undertaking these projects - finding my own memories stirred, discovering that some look different 20, 30, even 40 years on - there is a huge sense of responsibility, and of privilege, and ultimately of hope.  We are so blessed to have access to the technology that allows us to make photo books, to create playlists, to bring moments of memory to those we love, and whose love and dedication has made us who we are.

Remembering my Dad; remembering my Grandma; remembering with gratitude all that my parents and grandparents continue to mean to me.

Perhaps more overlap with Exodus, as we begin with instructions for the Passover - but wait, there is new material and intriguing details to ponder.

Keeping Passover

The importance of the Passover is such that no-one wnats to miss out - those who are excluded on grounds of ritual uncleanliness due to contact with a dead body ask to be made a special case.  So two special cases are identified - those affected by bereavement and those who are on a journey may celebrate the Passover, as may any 'Alien' who wishes to, provided they have complied with the necessary statutes (for which we need to return to Exodus as they are not listed here).  Surprisingly, perhaps, this most important of all ritual celebrations is the most inclusive... but it also comes with a stern warning: those who could keep Passover and don't are to be cut off, excluded, banished.

It's hard to imagine any religious ritual that would be so central that we would choose to banish - excommunicate - someone because they didn't undertake it.  Many years ago, I recall my then minister complaining that the church was often almost empty at Easter because people choose to go on holiday, but there was no formal consequence of that choice... muttering perhaps, but no action!

It's also hard to imagine anything we might do in church that would lead to people pleading to be included, that might lead us to consider whether concessions would be appropriate and/or what requirements we might impose on "outsiders" who wished to join in.

Proceed in an orderly fashion...

The trumpets, and the array of trumpet calls is a fascinating detail.  The description of the order in which people will set out (or at least some of them) shows evidence of some practical considerations (the tent can be set up before the contents arrive).

I do wonder if what we have here is, at least to an extent, fragmentary, notably because whilst we are told of alarms to tell those camped on the east and south to set off, there seems to be no mention of the west or north... though we are told who goes last, the back-marker or 'sheepdog' to ensure that everyone is accounted for and has arrived safely.

Again it seems that everyone has a role, and knows what it is.  Whether it is to carry a bowl or blow a trumpet, to walk at the front or to bring up the rear.  This expedition seems to be well organised, even though it is equally clear that there is a degree of making it up as they go along!

Eyes to see...

One Midianite is named in this section, Hobab the son of Moses' father-in-law, who has it seems travelled with the Israelites.  Recognising the knowledge he has, Moses asks him to be the 'eyes' of the expedition, to act as a 'scout'.  Hobab really doesn't want to do this, but is persuaded.

Churches and denominations talk a lot about mission, about going, literally or metaphorically, to new places.  Reading this I find myself wondering, who are the Midianites in our midst whose inside knowledge we need and value, whose 'eyes' we need to borrow to help us find our way into uncharted terriitory?

Travelling Mercies

The section ends with two ritualised prayers - one uttered as the people set out, the other when they settle in a new campsite. 

Thinking Christians often struggle with prayers for 'travelling mercies', it seems selfish to ask God to bless us or those we love, and  yet still we want them to be kept safe.  "Go well" we say, or "safe journey", or "take care"... we may not actively pray, but the intent is pretty much the same.

In the days when I used to drive huge distances, often in the dark, and often finding it hard work, when I finally reached my destination and switched off the engine, I would often utter a "thank you" 'arrow' prayer to God.  Since I've mainly used public transport, I've lost that sense of gratitude, because it someone else who has done the work, negotiated hazards and weather and so on.  I think I need to recover that practice, and maybe to pray for those whose work it is to ensure I have a safe journey.

Psalm 121 offer this assurance: "the Lord will preserve your going out and your coming in, both now and forevermore."  A promise to trust, an assurance of travelling mercies, at least when seen in eschatalogical perspective.

I wouldn't normally choose to mark World Book Day, but having just read what I found to be a wonderful book, I thought, well, why not.

I find that Kate Atkinson's novels are well crafted and deeply satisfying to read.  Yesterday, I spent something like six hours reading the second half of "A God in Ruins", a Costa Book Prize winner for 2015, and, for me, a wonderful read.  I think every book of hers I've read (still a few to go) has in some way resonated with my own experiences, or questions or thoughts.  This one, focussing on the life story of one, now very elderly and frail, man, I found really gripping.  I loved the easy movement backwards and forwards in time within chapters, as well as the more formal movement between them.  Above all, it was resonant descriptions of an elederly parent moving first to sheltered housing and then to a care home that I found most moving, and somehow reassuring.

The author herself notes certain threads/connections within the story - one being a 'red thread', which appears at various times.  I hadn't spotted this, but once she mentioned it, I found myself recalling how 'red threads' feature also in the Old Testament (think Jacob or Rahab).  I was also reminded how connections are always there to be made or discovered by the reader.  Above all, I was reminded why I love reading, and how a good novel can convey powerful truths if only we have the eyes to see them or ears to hear them.

I have a number of other books waiting to be read now - and hope that doing so will both enrich my inner world and help inform my outer one.

The overlap with the end of Exodus continues, and I find myself very much reminded of the equivalent material that links the Gospel of Luke and the Acts of the Apostles... the same events described but with differences, some quite significant.  To twenty-first century critical minds, this can seem problematic - surely it ought to be neat and tidy, surely an editor or author would smooth out the contradictions.  Perhaps.  And perhaps not.  Newspaper and television reports of events can be hugely contradictory.  We realise that there is no value free describing, that whatever is written or said is inevitably partial - incomplete and biased.  We know it, but, I anyway, am wont to forget it, often uncritically accepting as absolute fact what I read/see/hear, whilst others may be questioning every detail.

The writer(s) of the material contained in this scroll, or at least the editor, if we accept a multiple source hypothesis, needs to start somewhere, and what better place than the dedication of the Tabernacle and the ordination of the priests?

Twelve Days, Twelve Identical Gifts

With almost poetic repetition, the presentation of offerings from each of the twelve sub-divsions (clans/tribes) is described.  Each day for twleve days, one group has the nto come forward and present their offerings.  Each in turn has their 'moment' to be the centre of the story.  No-one brings more and no-one brings less.  There is no favour in going first or last, no slight in being somewhere in between.  Here, at the start of the story anyway, is a sense of equality, of each of the twelve groups having equal worth, contributing equally.

I love the detail of the covered wagons and the oxen to draw them - a free gift offered by the people to make life a little easier for those who have to carry heavy items.  And the intriguing detail that one group is denied a wagon because the objects they carry are too holy.  What becomes of that wagon and the oxen, or how the donors may have felt is not recorded.  I have to confess that my mental image of these wagons is shaped by too many spaghetti westerns, and the circling of wagons by the pioneers or cowboys!

Retirement Age!

In the previous chunk of material, we learned that men aged 30 to 50 years of age were to undertake the physical work of carrying the various objects.  Here we are given instructions for the working life of the priests - they begin at age 25 and retire at 50.  After this age, they may assist, but may not perform any official rites.

In a society where formal retirement ages are steadily being increased, driven by finanacial constraints on state funded pensions, it is sobering to think that once upon a time people would have been considered well and truly 'old' at 60 or 65.  In churches and other organisations where there is often huge dependence on "young retireds" or even on "not so young retireds" it is sobering to realise that the earliest records we have don't just request, but require people to step down from office as they age.

I know that many ministers when they reach the age of formal retirement find it really difficult to 'let go'.  Financial considerations (ministers' pensions have never been huge, and have at times been terrible) lead some to take up part time posts, potentially meaning that younger or newly qualified ministers are unable to settle.  I am challenged by what I read here - and I hope that should I reach formal retirement age (currently 67 or 68 and likely to rise futher) still in active ministry, that someone will remind me, forcibly if necessary, to step down and allow a new generation to take their turn.

So, some interesting stuff to ponder here, and some challenges for people of all ages about the roles they fulfil within churches.  Some challenges too with a Baptist ecclesiology of covenanted membership in an age where, for various reaons, such practice may have consequences our forebears would not have envisaged.