.

      “The priests are counting the entire population of Israelites for when they divide up between the tribes this Promised Land, which no one has seen,” Milcah reported to us.

      “What do they mean we will draw lots for land which we will actually own?” Hoglah asked. “I can’t imagine actually owning anything and living in a house. I would just like to have sandals that hold together a little longer, although these are lasting remarkably well.”

      “Oh, they are taking a census all right, but only of the men. They are the only ones who will receive land,” Mahlah, our worldly oldest sister said.

      “We are only girls, what will happen to us?” young Tirzah asked, suddenly understanding the bigger issue. “And we will no longer have manna to eat? How can this be a Promised Land?”

      “We will grow our own food. We will stay in one place long enough to plant grains and then harvest them,” added in Noah. “The elders are already drawing maps with sticks in the dust. They write their names on stones and rearrange them endlessly like game pieces.”

      “But our names are not on the stones. Our father is dead, and as women we won’t get land,” Hoglah predicted.

      “Well, we will certainly marry, then husbands will take care of us,” our idealistic littlest sister piped in. She knew her stories about how our ancestor Jacob met Rebecca at the well, and how Moses also found his wife at a well.

      “Hey, get realistic sister,” said Hoglah. “Look at us. We are sunburned. Our skin is like leather, sand-blasted from the wind. No eligible young men will ever give us a second look, even if we are struggling with heavy jars to pull water up from the wells. We have to get land in order to eat.”

      “Besides, lately the Israelite men have preferred the Moabite women. Of course they haven’t been walking every day for years, and can manage to wash their hair,” Mahlah said to no one in particular. The rest of us did not pursue that topic, as Mahlah seemed bitter.

      “Our father never regretted that we were all born female, at least he never expressed it,” Noah sighed. “Yet he knew he would never live to see the Promised Land and receive his allotment of land. What would he want us to do?”

      “It is a matter of justice,” Milcah added. “Without a son, his family inheritance promised by Yahweh will disappear unless we advocate for ourselves.”

      “The area of land that our tribe, Manasseh, receives will be unfairly smaller,” Hoglah observed.

      “Father knew Moses and said he was a fair and good man. Maybe he would help us preserve our father’s memory,” Mahlah lightened up.

      “Not to mention, provide us land to keep some sheep and grow crops for a living,” Noah added.

      “Do you know anything about planting a field?” Hoglah asked.

      “Well then, we have two problems, no land, and we don’t know wheat from a weed. All we have seen in this barren wilderness is manna and thorns that poke through our thin sandals,” Milcah added.

      “How does one eat wheat? I hear that it can be used to make bread, but I am not sure how wheat turns into bread,” Tirzah said. She had little experience eating anything other than manna.

      “So, which one of us is going to approach the great Moses and ask for an inheritance? I have heard that he actually talks to Yahweh, and once received the commandments from Yahweh on Mount Sinai,” Noah was thinking aloud. We all fell silent at that thought.

      “So, will Yahweh condemn us for daring to ask, and will he remember our loss?” Hoglah asked, unafraid of the hard question.

      We all looked at each other. One of us would have to be very brave. But all of us together, we knew, could be braver still.

      The Tent of the Tabernacle must be approached only with fear and reverence. Yahweh had given many laws concerning who had anything to do with it; people have been known to die if they came near inappropriately (Num 1:51). The tent that enclosed the tabernacle was made with precious fabrics and was surrounded by a fence made of linen curtains. From camp to camp, for almost forty years, the priests disassembled and rebuilt the whole complex at every new location. Hidden within the Holy of Holies was the Ark of the Covenant, a gold-plated chest that was carried by the Levites before the procession of the Israelites, whenever we moved. It represented the presence of God leading the way throughout all the travels. It was constructed many years ago, and it was made of the finest materials by skilled artisans according to the exact instructions given directly from Yahweh to Moses.

      We hesitated at the gate when the curtain was pulled aside for us to enter. Compared to the dullness of our dusty, everyday lives, we seemed to be looking into the splendor of heaven. The morning incense had already been burned, leaving behind a fragrance that assaulted our noses with a heady sweetness.

      “We are the daughters of Zelophehad,” Mahlah told the guard at the gate of the enclosure. “May we approach Moses with a special request concerning our father’s inheritance?”

      “Come nearer, daughters of Zelophehad,” we heard a voice from within call us. We hesitated to put one foot ahead of the other and progress into the enclosure. “I knew your father; I am sorry for your loss. Is there anything I can do?”

      This was the first time that we had seen Moses up close.

      He wore the years of desert life in his deeply creased face. He and several other priests formed a line of gold-trimmed, heavily embroidered robes. Eleazar, Aaron’s son, was the high priest. He was dressed in the ephod, or a sort of apron that was decorated with large gems of precious stones. Each stone represented one of the twelve tribes. We had never seen ruby, topaz, and sapphire stones, which reflected the morning sun with dazzling light. The whole effect of the tabernacle made us quite dizzy with its awesome majesty.

      “Our father died in the desert, and he was a good man. He did not participate in the rebellion of Korah but died of old age,” Mahlah said, daring to break the silence.

      “He taught us well to serve Yahweh with fear and reverence. He told us all the stories of the Exodus and the forty days at Mount Sinai when you, Moses, received the law from the hand of Yahweh,” added Noah.

      “We are five sisters, without any brothers. Why should our father’s name disappear from his clan because he had no son?” Hoglah continued.

      “The tribe of Manasseh should not lose this land. We wish to receive our father’s portion along with his male relatives in the Promised Land of Canaan,” Milcah finished the request.

      “Well, it is rather irregular that women would receive an inheritance of land. I will have to ask Yahweh about this unusual request,” Moses thoughtfully replied.

      “When do you next talk to Yahweh?” our littlest sister piped up. We had forgotten to tell her not to talk.

      “Ahem,” Moses had a rather shocked look on his tired old face. We were horrified that our whole cause could be lost. After an impossibly long pause, Moses spoke up again, “I can’t really say; Yahweh speaks in Yahweh’s own time, but I should get in one more talk before I see him face to face.”

      “What did he mean by that?” we gazed at each other. No one sees God face to face and lives to tell about it.

      We retreated backwards a few steps before turning around. We were somewhat dejected. “Well what kind of answer did we get? Moses did not refuse us. We have to wait on Yahweh,” Hoglah said, breaking the silence on the way to our tent.

      “Were we too bold to ask for this exception?” we questioned among ourselves.

      “You know women don’t inherit land,” some men taunted us. “There will be more land for us if you don’t inherit. After all, do you know what to do with land?”

      “Well none of us knows how to plant grains and