Bedraggled and rancorous, the Israelites must traverse the desert
of Edom. Canaan beckons from the other
side.
Moses sends greetings to Edom’s king, and requests
permission to cross. After repeating the
story of the Exodus, he makes a series of promises: “We will not pass through fields or
vineyards, and we will not drink water from wells. We will follow the king’s highway, turning
off neither to the right nor to the left until we have crossed your territory”
(Numbers 20:17). Israel, he says, will
be respectful of Edom’s sovereignty and integrity.
Edom refuses their passage nonetheless. Perhaps Edom feared that Israel intended to
invade. Perhaps Edom was hoarding resources
and didn’t want to share. Perhaps Edom
sought to keep Israel out of Canaan.
Perhaps the king was cruel.
Or, perhaps, the fault was Moses’. In his eagerness, he never pauses to enquire
of Edom. Moses makes a proposition
that’s based on assumptions and ignorant of Edom’s fears and realities. If he had asked about Edom instead of telling,
he might have found a way through. Instead,
he only reaches impasse.
We regularly bring our own agenda to our encounters. We believe we know the best outcome, both for
ourselves and for the other parties. What
would it take to say instead “I don’t know what’s best in this situation. Let’s talk about what we all need, and what’s
possible.” Can you imagine being out of
control and open to a situation’s full – and unimagined – potential?
What do you think?
