Dramatic Reading:
Moses on the Mountain
©2009 John A. Horner (Used by permission)

I took old Jethro’s sheep to the grassy flat on the far western side of the wilderness.

On the slope rising above the grass, about a mile off, a bush must’ve caught a spark, because it inflamed. That happens sometimes.

The grass there on the western side is thick and tall and green, and the sheep set to it quickly, in that slow, sedate way they have.

I thought of the news that had finally made its way to old Jethro’s tent—Jethro is my Zipporah’s father. Besides being the high priest of Midian, he seems to broker all the information that comes to this side of Mount Horeb.

One of the sheep lifted her head, chewing the grass, and ruminated on the bush that was still burning.

The old Pharaoh had died. This was the news. For more than 20 years I had called him Uncle Rameses. And now he was dead. Had been for some years, apparently. And what of my family? My families. My two families. One the divine rulers of the Egyptian empire, the other slaves of that empire. Were my father or either of my mothers still alive?

The ewe was still grazing and gazing at the burning bush.

How could that bush still be burning?

I had to—  [He turns back to look at the bush.]

Why—

How could that bush still be burning?

“I have to check this out.”

I left the sheep munching away, and headed to the bush. I could feel the ewe staring at my back as I hit my stride across the field of pasture.

I left the grass behind, and started to climb my way up to the bush. Sand and dirt and pebbles started to slide into the little openings between my sandals and the foot that dwelt in each one.

It was not an easy climb—I slid more than once, and my hands and fingers were scratched and scraped as I grasped for handholds on my way up. But finally I was almost to the flattened spot where that bush was just burning away—

Except that was the strange thing. The bush was burning, but it wasn’t burning away. It was—

[God’s Voice—God’s Voice is only occasionally the deep, resonate, masculine voice we’ve been taught to expect. It moves through several different types, qualities, and pitches: male, female, old, young, different ethnicities—as much as the talents of the actor can pull off.]

Moses!

I looked around.

Moses!

[Pause.]

It was the bush.  [Pause.]  “Yeah?”  [Pause.] “Yeah? It’s me.”

Moses— Take off your sandals. The ground upon which you stand is holy. 

[Taking off sandals.]  I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I figure, a voice from a burning bush starts telling you to do something, it’s probably a good idea to go ahead and do it.

I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.

[Hiding his face.]  God told me of seeing the affliction of My people who are in Egypt. I have heard their cry. And I have come down to deliver them, to bring them to a land flowing with milk and with honey. The cry of the children of Israel has come to me, and I have seen how they are oppressed by the Egyptians. Therefore I will send you to Pharaoh—

I didn’t like the sound of that.

—that you may bring forth My people, the children of Israel, out of Egypt.

[Raising his hand to get the floor.]  Uh— [Beat.]  Uh, who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and, uh, “bring forth the children of Israel out of Egypt”?

I will be with you. And this shall be a sign for you that I have sent you— when you bring forth the people from Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.

[This doesn’t really convince Moses. He looks around.]

Uhm.  [Short pause.]  Okay, uhm, when I go to the children of Israel and tell them, “The God of your fathers has sent me,” and they ask, “What’s His name?”— Uh, what am I supposed to tell them?

I am that I am.  [Pause.]  Tell them “I am” has sent me.

[Pause. Then, directed right to those assembled.]  “I am” has sent me.

[He turns and warms his hands over the burning bush.]