40 or Bugs Bunny Takes a Wrong Turn in Albuquerque

 N umbers lives up to its name right out of the gate with God instructing Moses to take a census of Israel (see chapters 1-4). I know what you’re thinking. And yeah, the result is about as scintillating as reading a phonebook. Once the final tally is in, God lifts the travel ban and Israel prepares to make tracks (see Num. 10:11-13). Someone alert Jack Kerouac. We’re about to hit the road. After spending over a year at Sinai, the chance for everyone to stretch their legs is long overdue. But what should be a straightforward hike through the wilderness quickly devolves into a Griswold family road trip. No sooner have they gassed up the Wagon Queen Family Truckster than the trouble begins.

It only takes three days on the road before Israel starts complaining. In Numbers 11, they reminisce about the food they ate in Egypt and even have the balls to criticize the elven lembas God airmails in daily (vv. 5, 6). Despite having more cattle at their fingertips than Gil Favor, they still put in an order for meat (v. 4). Their ingratitude doesn’t go over well. Moses does the math and promptly tenders his resignation (v. 14). Thanks to the recent census, he knows Israel’s foot soldiers alone totals 600,000 (v. 21). He also knows the closest Big Kahuna Burger is three states away. God talks him down and then impresses everyone by making it rain fast-food (v. 31). But the indulgence is short-lived when Israel gets food poisoning worse than Lillian Donovan and her bridesmaids (v. 33). It’s so bad the original complainers don’t make it out alive.

Things don’t get any better in Numbers 12, where Moses’ top officials, Miriam and Aaron, turn against him. It all starts when they criticize his marriage to an unnamed Cushite hottie, which ultimately leads them to challenge his authority (vv. 1, 2). Upon hearing the accusation, God calls an emergency meeting and quickly puts Moses’ siblings in their place (vv. 4-9). As Arthur Kirkland would say, “You’re out of order! You’re out of order! The whole trial is out of order!” God is honest enough to admit his general practice is to communicate “in riddles” (v. 8). Moses is the exception to the rule. He doesn’t get the Edward Nigma treatment. God’s defense solidifies their bromance once and for all. He practically goes back-to-back with Moses to proclaim, “Bad boys for life!” It isn’t good news for Miriam and Aaron.

Immediately following God’s big speech, Miriam is stricken with tzaraas, a skin disease that gives her the appearance of Bib Fortuna (v. 10). We’re not talking about something an Otezla prescription will clear up (for the 411 on tzaraas and how to treat it see Leviticus 13 and call me in the morning). English translations identify the disease as leprosy. King James’ scribes obviously never met a Twi’lek. Needless to say, Aaron is more apologetic than Wesley Gibson when he sees what happens to his sister and Moses is good enough to ask God to cut them some slack (vv. 11-13). Aaron and his lucky rabbit’s foot dodge another bullet (see Deut. 9:20) while Miriam is placed in quarantine for a week until her symptoms pass (v. 15).

The bad news keeps coming in Numbers 13. Israel is still parked in the wilderness when the people approach Moses with the idea to send spies to Canaan to scout out the land (see Deut. 1:22). God plays along with their request and Moses selects twelve guys—one from each tribe—to play secret agent (v. 2). Donning their best Simon Templar disguise, the spies successfully infiltrate Canaan. Apparently, nobody notices the white utility van parked across the street for 40 days gathering intel (vv. 21-25). They report back with a glowing review of the land (v. 27), but scare the bejesus out of everyone by describing its inhabitants as giants (v. 28). It doesn’t help that there’s more infighting among the returning spies than Napoleon Solo and Ilya Kuryakin. Caleb, one of the few optimists among them, tries to band the people together with a rousing Jack Aubrey battle speech (v. 30). But when his companions double down on the hyperbole, there’s no going back: “[W]e were like grasshoppers” (v. 33).

In Numbers 14, Israel goes into full panic mode. Convinced they’ll be picking a fight with Cthulhu, they backpedal faster than Ike Clanton. The incident causes them to question God and fire Moses, saying, “Let us appoint a leader and let us return to Egypt” (v. 4). They even attempt to kill off Caleb and Joshua when they continue to promote a Tony Robbins strategy for success (vv. 6-10). That’s when God shows up. He’s prepared to “annihilate” Israel once again and start over with Moses’ kids (v. 12). But instead of accepting the Klingon promotion, Moses counters with a convincing pro-life argument (vv. 13-16). And it works. God takes a couple of deep breaths and holsters his weapon (v. 20). The scene plays out almost identically to Exodus 32:9-12. The good news is God forgives Israel. The bad news is it doesn’t stop him from grounding them for 40 years. Everyone over the age of twenty is predicted to die in the wilderness (vv. 29-34). It’s worse for the ten downer spies. They get smoked immediately (vv. 36, 37). Caleb and Joshua are the only ones who score bonus points. God rewards them with a 1-up for making it to the next level. Israel attempts to get back in the game when they hear God’s verdict. They even try to enter Canaan without his assistance (vv. 40-44). This results in the current landowners beating them up worse than Nicky and Dominick Santoro (v. 45).

Canaan is within striking distance, but what should’ve taken no more than a couple of weeks, turns into an epic four-decade hike in Emyn Muil. Israel goes in more circles than Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee. The old phrase “All who wander are not lost” is in serious question here. Their route is more embarrassing than when Spinal Tap got lost backstage in Cleveland. This doesn’t sit well with the generation doomed to never set foot in Canaan. In fact, their unrest provides the perfect environment for a disgruntled Levite named Korah to stage a coup. In an effort to usurp his cousins, Moses and Aaron, he recruits a handful of Israel’s top brass in Numbers 16 by pulling a Hector Barbossa (vv. 1-3). He wins over the rest of the community with a fresh batch of Kool-Aid.

But just when things are about to go south, God arrives on the scene threatening to vaporize anyone standing near the punchbowl (v. 21). Realizing God’s phaser isn’t set to stun, Moses makes another appeal on Israel’s behalf. By now, he’s become more adept at getting his clients off the hook than Kevin Lomax (v. 22). He has Israel out on bail within the hour. Korah and his friends don’t fare as well. Moses proves he’s God’s number one guy (again) when he predicts Korah will spend the next thousand years being slowly digested by a Sarlacc (vv. 28-30). And yeah, it sorta happens (vv. 31-33). In the name of efficiency, God nukes the rest of the insurgents with thermite plasma (v. 35).

According to Numbers 17, Israel pushes its luck again the very next day by blaming Moses and Aaron for the deaths of Korah’s followers (v. 6). This makes Israel appear more suicidal than Lane Meyer. At this point, they aren’t occasionally pushing God’s berserk button. They’re building infrastructure on it. As a result, Moses is back in court that afternoon defending them against the death penalty. But this time his words aren’t enough to stop a truckload of Israelites from biting it. He has to send Aaron out among the people like Gerry Lane to put an end to the fast-moving epidemic (vv. 11-13). In the aftermath, God reestablishes the Levite’s position with some Merlin magic that involves Aaron’s walking stick producing a little Almond Joy (vv. 16-24). The trick convinces everyone that God got it right the first time around, which immediately makes the piles of dead bodies seem really unnecessary (see Num. 3:5-10).

Israel finally settles in and takes the next 40 years on the chin. Fortunately, the text doesn’t offer a travelogue of every wrong turn. Instead, it employs a William Thacker walk-through-the-seasons montage that skips to the end of their march. As Homer Simpson would say, “All right, we’re here! Let us never speak of the shortcut again.” The time lapse ends abruptly in Numbers 20 with the announcement of Miriam’s death (v. 1). But the new generation proves to be like the old generation when they skip mourning one of their top leaders to instead whine about how thirsty they are (vv. 3-5). God addresses the age-old complaint by instructing Moses and Aaron to speak to a nearby rock so that it will “give its waters” (v. 8). There’s only one problem: the brothers are having a bad day. Their sister has just gone into the fertilizer business and the community she served for nearly half a century is more worried about their free drink refills. Moses gathers everyone together, but instead of speaking to the rock politely and calling it a day, he cues up the Geto Boys and dropkicks it like an Initect printer (vv. 10, 11). The slip-up costs the brothers their shot at entering Canaan (v. 12). That’s right. Not even Moses gets a pass when it comes to breaking protocol.

With its time in the wilderness finally coming to an end, Israel resets the odometer and begins to map out the quickest route to Canaan. After consulting his Garmin, Moses sends messengers to Edom in hopes of cutting across their land (vv. 14-17), but the descendants of Esau keep the old family feud alive with threats that make the Starks and Lannisters look like besties (vv. 18-21). But just when you’re expecting a fistfight to break out, Israel backs down faster than Andy Campbell (see Deut. 2:4-8). Without God’s approval they have no recourse and are forced to take the long way around.

But before the credits roll on chapter 20 another death is recorded. At this point, Numbers has killed off more main characters than The Walking Dead. This time, Aaron wakes up to the news that the day of his death has arrived. Nope. It isn’t a bad dream. Don’t bother pinching yourself. God makes the announcement personally (v. 24). But the startling news doesn’t see Aaron attempting to escape fate like Alex Browning. Instead, he accepts that he’ll time out at the end of the day and dutifully passes the mantle on to his son, Elazar (v. 28). Aaron is 123 when he dies (see 33:39). After his death, the Israelites stand around for thirty days chanting “His name is Robert Paulson” (v. 29).

Israel is back on the road in Numbers 21, but the long trek around Edom finds them running their mouths again: “Why did you bring us up from Egypt to die in this Wilderness?” (v. 5). Do they want to be spanked? Israel appears to be following in the footsteps of Lee Holloway’s intentional typos. They’ve got food, water and, according to the text, God hooks them up with some seriously durable clothes as well (see Deut. 8:4, 29:4). He even insists they never get drunk during the trip, so they won’t have a “dude, where’s my car?” moment and forget everything he’s done (see Deut. 29:5).

Deuteronomy 8:2 actually confirms the whole trip is basically a long series of Kingsman tests, but Israel can’t seem to figure out that God always loads the gun with blanks. You’d think after 40 years of Groundhog Day they’d realize he always comes through. But no, they continue to offer more unsolicited backseat advice than Daisy Werthan. With this in mind, it’s no surprise he rewards their latest criticism with another memorable death strike. This time he unleashes a bunch of poisonous snakes (v. 6). The whole camp is infested. As Indiana Jones would say, “Snakes. Why’d it have to be snakes?” Israel immediately regrets their one-star Yelp review and begs Moses to negotiate on their behalf (v. 7). In response, God instructs Moses to make a copper serpent and attach it to a pole, so that anyone who is bitten can “look at it and live” (vv. 8, 9). The symbol is virtually identical to the Rod of Asclepius (the god medicine) in Greek mythology and is used in medical circles today in the Star of Life.

Back on the road, Israel again attempts to gain permission to take a shortcut through an inhabited area, but the Amorite landowners not only refuse the request, they travel out to the wilderness to pick a fight (vv. 21-23). What the Amorites don’t know is it’s Monday Night Raw in Israel and the Hebrews are ready to deliver a smackdown (v. 24). After taking control of the Amorites’ land, Israel is challenged again by a guy named Og. According to Scripture, Og is the last surviving Nephilim (the oversized assholes from Genesis 6). The text even makes a point to provide the dimensions of Og’s massive iron bed (see Deut. 3:11). We get it. The guy is a regular Mag the Mighty. That said, Israel still manages to drive him into extinction when he engages them in battle (v. 35). Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of your big-ass bed.

In Numbers 22, word has gotten around that Israel is a force to be reckoned with, so when they camp by the Jordan River in plain view of the Moabites, King Balak decides to get creative. Instead of marching out with his army locked and loaded, he calls on a local shaman named Balaam to cast a Baron Samedi voodoo spell on Israel (vv. 5, 6). Balaam has all of the hallmarks of a con artist looking to score a quick buck. But before he takes the job, he actually takes a moment to consult with God. Not surprisingly, God shoots down the idea in less than two seconds (v. 12). But Balak keeps offering more money and Balaam continues to confer with God until he gets something that resembles a permission slip (v. 20). Eager to play up his Freddy Benson act for easy money, Balaam hops on his ass (a donkey named Donkey) and heads for Moab.

But, evidently, there’s a conflict between God’s permission and Balaam’s intention, because while he’s still in route God sends a sword-wielding angel to stop him (v. 22). Balaam doesn’t see the angel, but his donkey’s spidey-senses are red-lining. It avoids the angel three times, only to be beaten by Balaam for off-roading it (vv. 23-27). Then, as if the scene isn’t strange enough, God allows the ass to get its Mister Ed on (insert Eddie Murphy voiceover here). You wouldn’t know it’s Balaam’s first trip to Narnia the way he casually engages a talking animal (vv. 28-30). He skips the moment of shock and awe to immediately threaten his donkey’s life: “If only there were a sword in my hand.” Yeah. That donkey is gonna need some serious therapy. It isn’t until God reveals the angel and explains the ass saved his life that Balaam finally gets it (v. 31-34). As John Shaft would say, “Don’t let your mouth get your ass in trouble.” Now that he has Balaam’s full attention, God reiterates his instruction from the night before to make sure they’re on the same page (v. 35). They are now.

When Balaam finally reaches Moab, Balak welcomes him by breaking out the pentagram and reading a few passages from the Necronomicon. But when Balaam seeks God’s approval in Numbers 23, he’s instructed to endorse Israel instead (vv. 8-10). Balak isn’t happy about his enemy hitting the karmic jackpot, but he’s not ready to give up either (v. 11). Despite Balaam working both sides like Papa Midnite, Balak still makes two more attempts to get him to jinx the Israelites. It doesn’t work. Israel continues to get the same favorable results. Talk about your all-time backfires. All Balak gets out of the deal is a twitchy eye (see Num. 24:10).

The conspiracies against Israel continue when Midian arrives to tag team with Moab. And even after endorsing the Hebrews three times, somehow Balaam ends up on the advisory committee. War and voodoo are immediately taken off the table. This time they send out the fembots, because, as it turns out, there are enough horny guys in Israel to bring down the entire nation. Midian figures this out and, “by the word of Balaam,” executes it to perfection (see Num. 31:16). Yep. Numbers 25 confirms Israel participates in a pants-off dance-off with Moab and Midian when all of their single ladies ride into town to Ginger and Mary Ann the Israelite men with their feminine wiles. Israel gets so involved they even start worshipping Pe’or (vv. 2, 3). This is the modern equivalent of watching Friends with your girlfriend. You know it’s wrong, but you play along because she’s a regular Barbarella in the sack. It’s worse for Israel because their escapades lead to a breach of contract. By paying homage to Pe’or, they break one of God’s top ten rules (go to the search menu and select Exodus 20:3). It gets so bad, the people stop trying to hide their affairs. One guy even has the stones to approach Moses and the elders with his mistress in tow (v. 6). It looks like Val Resnick just took his relationship with Pearl public. Hubba hubba! In response, God unleashes another plague. But Elazar’s son, Phinehas, takes a page out of the 74th annual Hunger Games by showing off his Marvel spear-throwing skills when he skewers the man and his Midianite mistress right then and there (vv.7-9). His effort stops the plague in its tracks.

Following the disciplinary action against Israel, God turns his attention to Midian. He tells Moses to take vengeance on them for giving Israel the Charming Jones treatment. Following God’s directive, they march into Midian like John Nada, ready to chew bubble gum and kick ass. And yes, Israel is all out of bubble gum. It’s bad news for Balaam and everyone else involved in the femme fatale plot (see Num. 31:7-10). By the time they’re done with Midian, there isn’t a single stripper pole left standing.

God directs Moses to take another census of the people in Numbers 26. After all of the deadly reprisals Israel has incurred over the past 40 years even God has lost count. Then, in Numbers 27, there’s an epic passing of the lightsaber when Moses’ apprentice, Joshua, finally earns Jedi status and is named his successor (vv. 18-23). Next, Moses sits Israel down and recaps the entire journey. This is what we find in the book of Deuteronomy. Deuteronomy means “review of the Torah.” So yeah, there’s definitely an echo in here. He also renews the covenant with the new generation, extending it to include “whoever is not here with us today” (Deut. 29:13, 14). They’re in it for the long haul now.

Israel is on the brink of entering Canaan when Moses receives news of his imminent death. It’s another K. Roth Binew day. Like his brother, Moses only has one afternoon to prepare. He gives his farewell address in Deuteronomy 31 and officially hands the keys over to Joshua (vv. 7, 8 and 14). Thanks to God, he also gets an advanced screening of Israel’s future, which sounds kinda cool until it turns out to be a Hill Valley dystopia (vv. 16-18). It appears old Biff Tannen gets his hands on Grays Sports Almanac again. But God doesn’t reset the time circuits in anticipation of the fallout. Instead, he suggests theme music as a solution. That’s right. Moses spends his final hours composing a tune Israel can use to post bail with whenever they screw up (v. 19). You can download the song for free in Deuteronomy 32, just don’t expect a Lady Gaga anthem. It’s not that kind of song. It sounds more like something you’d hear on the radio in Westeros. But it’s still worth a listen, because God pulls another one of his famous full reveals: “See, now, that I, I am He—and no god is with me. I put to death and I bring to life, I struck down and I will heal, and there is no rescuer from My hand” (v. 39). Talk about unfiltered. God just pulled a Jay Bulworth on his constituency. He takes full responsibility here—for everything. Somewhere God’s publicist is screaming into a pillow.

No sooner has Moses finished the song than God instructs him to summit Mount Nebo for a spyglass tour of Canaan (vv. 48-50; also see Num. 27:12-14 and Deut. 34:1-4). This is as close as he’ll get due to his epic brain fart in Numbers 20. Moses repeatedly blames Israel for his exclusion (see Deut. 1:37, 3:26, 4:21), but God calls BS in verse 51, which is kinda weird if Moses authored the book. Apparently, “James Cameron doesn’t do what James Cameron does for James Cameron. James Cameron does what James Cameron does because James Cameron is James Cameron.” Moses’ final moments are recorded in Deuteronomy 34, where he dies “by the mouth of Hashem” (v. 5). Hebrew scholars call this the Divine Kiss. Hard to say if it constituted a verbal command—“That’ll do, pig. That’ll do”—or a more literal life-draining touch, à la Marie D’Ancanto. Whatever the case, it marks the end of the line for Moses.

According to the text, Moses is in better shape than Allan Quatermain at the time of his death: “his eye had not dimmed, and his vigor had not diminished” (v. 7). Not bad for 120 years old. I guess a little Vorlon energy rubbed off on him while he was hanging out with God. But the scene doesn’t end with Moses’ death. Get this, the self-proclaimed God of the universe actually sticks around to bury him. And he does a helluva job too, because, like Ra’s al Ghul, Moses’ body is never recovered (v. 6). It doesn’t get any more personal than this. Even if you’re pretty sure there isn’t a God (like me), this is the sort of story that’ll make you reconsider the possibility. It’s a genuine Nate Fisher move on God’s part.

Israel will likely never face a bigger loss. The band hasn’t broken up, but it has lost its lead singer. How big are the shoes Joshua has to fill? David St. Hubbins big. This is sure to put a strain on the Silent But Deadly Tour. The Israelites accept Joshua as their new front man, but with war looming in the immediate future it doesn’t look like they’ll be winning over any new fans (v. 9). Even God dials it back a notch. The text says he won’t be accepting any new friend requests for a while (v. 10). For now, they’ll have to settle on a working relationship. The Pentateuch comes to a close with a Checkpoint Charlie cliffhanger. Will Israel cross the border safely? What waits for them on the other side? And, most importantly, will God put up with them now that Moses isn’t around to play referee?