They stood in a circle. Seriousness etched on their faces, hair greying from the weight of the responsibility they bore.
They were not just representing their clans, each was a leader. Chosen with the utmost care, the hope and future of a people rested on their shoulders.
All twelve gathered around a man whose voice and carriage belied his look and age.
The rabbenu was their leader. He'd literally taken them from nobodies, whose existence was dependent on the whims of their masters, to a nation other nations dreaded. Still, he was a simple, easy-going man who loved his people.
It was that love driving them to undertake what lay ahead.
Rabbenu Moshe was issuing instructions.
“Go north through the Negev into the hill country. See what the land is like, Is it good or bad? Find out whether the people living there are strong or weak, few or many. Do their towns have walls, or are they unprotected like open camps? Is the soil fertile or poor? Are there many trees? Do your best to bring back samples of the crops you see.”
Two of the men exchanged a look. This was going to be mission extraodinare.
Both men made up their minds not to fail YHWH or His servant, Moshe.
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