Moses

 

It must have seemed the oddest sort of question. Thinking back to all he’d left behind—

 

Nurses, scurrying handmaids, daily rounds of private lessons, even his fumbling wish to “meet my people” had been spoken in his perfect, palace accent—

 

Who was more fitting to confront a king?

 

But for that moment it seemed a logical objection. Staring into the flames, he saw no reason for encouragement.

 

Why should he not dismiss it out of hand?

 

But the idea would not leave off its flickering, dancing between branches unconsumed,

 

Until it seemed the idiom had meant more than he intended: “Who am I—to go to Pharaoh?”

 

Years later, he still pondered what had followed: the angry demands, miraculous escape, then years of wandering…

 

People liked to say it was “inevitable,” though this was hardly what he thought himself.

 

Rather, it was the question’s answer that had changed him—gradually, unrelentingly, it settled in his mind:

 

“Tell them this—though no doubt most will miss the point: I-am

is sending me to you.’” (Exodus 3:14)