Numbers 7

If you're one of those Jews who memorizes the Torah, Numbers 7 must thrill you--yes, it's the longest chapter in the Torah (as the NIV Study Bible notes), but the vast majority of it just repeats the same exact five verses 12 times. However, a modern reader, after realizing that all the tribe leaders are bringing the exact same offerings, will likely feel their eyes start to glaze over and skip right to verse 84.

But all this repetition does cast a formal, ritualistic, reverent mood on the proceedings. Think of high school or college graduation ceremonies. Between attempts from the student speakers to be clever and attempts from the guest speaker to be insipid, you have the absolute delight of watching each and every student in your class prove their coordination (or lack thereof) as they try to perform the intricate action of shaking with their right hand while awkwardly reaching across with their left hand to receive a piece of paper proving that they have mastered the indispensable skills of procrastination and cramming. That sentence went on a whole lot longer than I intended, but anyway, unless you went to a tiny school, watching everyone march up to the podium is a somnolent endeavor. At my high school graduation, at least the symphonic band kept matters amusing my making flatulent sounds with their instruments whenever a band member received his or her diploma.

Impressively, each Israelite tribe member does their part to bring the requisite offerings before God. I know that should be expected behavior and not some impressive feat, but think of how often the Israelites--and indeed, we as people--hem and haw, making excuses regarding spiritual issues. "I don't want to step out in faith, because what if I lose all my money or end up dead in some disagreeable jungle?" Or, "Why follow God when it's more expedient for me to ignore Him?" Perhaps these big, elaborate ceremonies do help bring one closer to God, as spiritual retreats or church camps do today. However, we must avoid relying on those shindigs for "spiritual highs," instead striving to remain Christ-like in the drudgery or discouragement of day-to-day life.

Finally, we find out where God puts the speaker on the Ark of the Covenant: "between the two cherubim above the atonement cover" (verse 89). No, the ark isn't a "radio for talking to God" as the unfortunate Belloq finds out the hard way in Raiders of the Lost Ark. But it is intriguing that God chooses to use a seemingly external, audible source when speaking to Moses rather than just talking inside his head. Maybe God spoke that way so Moses didn't think he was psychotic. But this method does add an intimate tint to the Creator of the universe that we only see brief snatches of until the New Testament.