Daily Thoughts from Deuteronomy 34:7,8: Mourned (Vayiv’ku)

37 Mourned (Vayiv’ku)

Moshe was 120 years old when he died, with eyes undimmed and vigor undiminished.  The people of Isra’el mourned Moshe on the plains of Mo’av for thirty days; after this, the days of crying and mourning for Moshe ended.

(D’varim 34:7,8)

He was lamenting the end of reading Moshe’s words, reading fewer of them each day to prolong the reading through his forty days.  Yes, he could go back and start over or look for specific passages throughout, but he had come to the end of this approach of reading a segment each day until the whole was finished.

And today he was reading of Moshe’s death.  There were not many who lived 120 years and even fewer whose eyes were undimmed and whose vigor was undiminished.  He had seen many with fewer years whose hearing was mostly gone, who could no longer see much through tired eyes, and who hobbled, at best, to get around or who didn’t get around at all.

No doubt Yahweh had given Moshe power for the task He had given Moshe of leading His people.  And now, here they were, a new generation after the previous generation had passed away, the previous generation that refused the first time to enter the land with God’s power.  Fear had overcome them.  But the new generation, whose parents had feared that their children would die when their parents tried to fight against the powers of Canaan, they were now ready to do what their parents had failed in faith to do.

And Moshe was in that sense no longer needed.  A leader was needed and Yeshua son of Nun was ready to take that role.  But Moshe must now meet the disciplinary action of Yahweh for his striking the rock when Yahweh told him to speak to it.  He would not be allowed to enter the promised land.  And as it was inconceivable that he would not be with the people as they marched in if he was alive, so he would not live to see that day.  Yahweh had decided his days were through.

It was true that Yahweh decided for everyone when their days were through.  And he could not help but think of his own life here on earth.  He was here, in the yeshimon, preparing for a ministry that was brand new, announcing the coming of the kingdom of God, an exciting venture directed by the powerful Spirit of God.  But it seemed certain that this ministry was leading to his personal death at a young age.  He could not just think about the ministry.  He must also think about his death.

For Moshe, death concluded a long life, but more importantly, a faithful ministry.  And, not surprisingly, this generation mourned him, indeed mourned him for an appropriately long time, the cycle of a moon, a full thirty days.  They went about in torn clothes and times of fasting and with loud laments.  Moshe was the most important leader Israel had since Avraham.

Would the people mourn for him the same way?  Everything he knew said they would not, that in fact they would be the ones who sought his death.  Relatively few would mourn for him.  And yet here he was at the fulcrum of God’s plans for the world, the coming of His kingdom and rule to earth, a time in which all things would change.  It was heaven coming to earth and the reversal of all injustice and human rebellion.  It was the gathering of all God’s people, those who truly believed and who made the road of their lives level so the king could ride in on a smooth path.

It was easy, in one sense, to think now about the certain death that awaited him without too much anxiety.  It wasn’t real yet.  It wasn’t immediate.  But the time would come when dread of this happening was going to tear at his insides, rending marrow from bone and testing him to the limit.  This time in the yeshimon was designed to give him a taste of what was to come.  Now was the time to decide if he could go through with this.

Weak as he was, he limited his movements throughout the day, choosing instead of walking to let his heart wander in his imagination through the environment around him, praying as he went, asking his Father to give him courage to do what he must do.

He slept peacefully that night, grateful for the Spirit’s strength when he needed it, and thankful also that satan was nowhere to be seen that day.