The sun was just beginning to rise when I saw him descend the mountain again. My name doesn’t matter—I was just one of many Levites keeping guard near the edge of the camp. But I’ll never forget that day.
We had waited forty days. Again. After everything that had happened with the golden calf—the sin, the shame, the punishment—I didn’t know if G-d would ever forgive us. Some people still whispered that maybe Moses wouldn't return this time. Maybe G-d had truly given up on us.
But then he came.
At first, I didn’t recognize him. Not just because of the stone tablets he was carrying, though even those looked different—smoother, cut by Moses' own hand. The first tablets, the ones G-d Himself had carved, were shattered at the base of the mountain when Moses came down and saw our idolatry. These second ones… they were a symbol of hope. A second chance.
Still, it wasn’t the tablets that stunned me.
It was his face.
There was light coming from it—actual light. His skin shone so brightly we had to turn away. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once. People began backing away without even realizing it. I felt frozen. How could a human shine like that? He looked like a man who had stood close—too close—to the Divine.
Later I learned why. When Moses had gone up the mountain this time, he had begged G-d not just to forgive us, but to show him His glory. And while G-d said no man could see His face and live, He allowed Moses to catch a glimpse of His presence as He passed by. That was more than any human had ever experienced.
The result was written on Moses’ face.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but firm. He shared what G-d had told him—promises and commandments. He repeated the covenant: that we were still G-d’s people and that He would go with us to the land He promised. There was mercy in Moses' words, and sternness too. G-d was giving us another chance, but we had learned the cost of disobedience.
Still, what struck me most was how Moses didn’t seem aware of his face shining.
He didn’t come down to impress us.
He came to teach us.
To lead us.
Afterward, he covered his face with a veil whenever he wasn’t speaking to G-d or teaching us. I think he didn’t want us to focus on the light—but on G-d’s message.
That day changed me. It wasn’t just about laws or promises. I saw with my own eyes what happens when someone stays close to G-d: his whole being is changed. Not just once, but again and again. Even after failure.
That gave me hope.
Hope that maybe we could change too.
The sun was just beginning to rise when I saw him descend the mountain again. My name doesn’t matter—I was just one of many Levites keeping guard near the edge of the camp. But I’ll never forget that day.
We had waited forty days. Again. After everything that had happened with the golden calf—the sin, the shame, the punishment—I didn’t know if G-d would ever forgive us. Some people still whispered that maybe Moses wouldn't return this time. Maybe G-d had truly given up on us.
But then he came.
At first, I didn’t recognize him. Not just because of the stone tablets he was carrying, though even those looked different—smoother, cut by Moses' own hand. The first tablets, the ones G-d Himself had carved, were shattered at the base of the mountain when Moses came down and saw our idolatry. These second ones… they were a symbol of hope. A second chance.
Still, it wasn’t the tablets that stunned me.
It was his face.
There was light coming from it—actual light. His skin shone so brightly we had to turn away. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once. People began backing away without even realizing it. I felt frozen. How could a human shine like that? He looked like a man who had stood close—too close—to the Divine.
Later I learned why. When Moses had gone up the mountain this time, he had begged G-d not just to forgive us, but to show him His glory. And while G-d said no man could see His face and live, He allowed Moses to catch a glimpse of His presence as He passed by. That was more than any human had ever experienced.
The result was written on Moses’ face.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but firm. He shared what G-d had told him—promises and commandments. He repeated the covenant: that we were still G-d’s people and that He would go with us to the land He promised. There was mercy in Moses' words, and sternness too. G-d was giving us another chance, but we had learned the cost of disobedience.
Still, what struck me most was how Moses didn’t seem aware of his face shining.
He didn’t come down to impress us.
He came to teach us.
To lead us.
Afterward, he covered his face with a veil whenever he wasn’t speaking to G-d or teaching us. I think he didn’t want us to focus on the light—but on G-d’s message.
That day changed me. It wasn’t just about laws or promises. I saw with my own eyes what happens when someone stays close to G-d: his whole being is changed. Not just once, but again and again. Even after failure.
That gave me hope.
Hope that maybe we could change too.
