Of course, the Hebrew's commitment to God was greatest at the beginning of the march, when they'd just set out. They were leaving Egypt, leaving their captivity: that was the excitement. Who could be more willing? Who ready to sacrifice more?
Some commentators have claimed that, in coming together on the march, the once scattered tribes was already the prophesised 'kingdom of priests', long before they had arrived at the promised land. The holy nation, according to some commentators, was a people on the move, defiant and uncomplaining.
When did they begin, the murmurings of discontent? When, the frustrations about blisters and the desert heat? When the dispiritedness, when the demand for sustenance? The Pharoah at least fed his slaves! He at least gave them some modicum of shelter!
Ah, but what they didn't understand was that the desert was a test; the people had been delivered from this suffering only to undergo suffering. Thus began the pedagogy of the desert, thus the attempt to purge themselves from the humiliations of their servitude.
For not the least of those humiliations was the desire to return to Egypt. To turn back, relinquishing the dream of a promised land: that was the temptation for a people yet to free themselves from a kind of inner slavishness. Was that why they built themselves a golden calf? Was it in imitation of the idols of Egypt, before which they prostrated themselves?
The people preferred the old gods, the old certainties. But there was a new world to be won! So the meek Moses became a slayer of men. So he punished the people, as W. sometimes has to punish me. It is sometimes necessary to sit on the Chair of Judgement. It's for my own good!
But then, too, sometimes W. is guilty of backsliding. Sometimes he years after the high table, after fellowship with his former allies. The old Gods: the fellowship of professors, the esteem of his peers. Must he leave them behind? Of course he must: he sees that, W. says, in his lucid moments. That's been my lesson to me. I, in my own way, have been his liberator.
But he, in turn, must be mine. Are we there yet?, I keep asking him, pulling at his tunic. And where's that milk and honey he was telling me about? But he faces forward, marching ahead of me. He faces forward, wondering how to teach me about the Law.
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