by Mesu Andrews
The king held Daniel’s gaze for the span of a breath before answering. “What about you, Daniel ben Johanan? Will you return to a land of rubble and weeds after living in Babylon’s luxury all your life?”
Daniel noted his evasive response. Abigail squeezed Daniel’s hand and nodded toward Allamu. Frustration and fear etched deep lines between her son’s brows. They’d spoken of the journey at length during last night’s meal, but none of their family could agree on a verdict about their parents’ participation. No matter whether they went to Jerusalem or stayed in Babylon, the family would be divided, and Daniel and Abigail would never see some of their children again.
“I’d like to hear the wisdom of Cyrus the Great on the matter,” Daniel said. “I’ve longed to see Jerusalem for nearly seventy years, but my wife and I are old and haven’t made a long journey since we were children.” He turned to Abigail while speaking to the king but made his vow to her. “If Cyrus allows me to choose, my wife and I will make the choice together.”
The king laughed. “You are undoubtedly the wisest of my empire’s married men.” Sobering, he clapped Daniel’s shoulder. “I must choose someone to lead the Hebrews back to Jerusalem. Someone wise, a man they know and trust. Though you are most capable, your age disqualifies you. Is there another among your people who is capable and trustworthy?”
“You want me to name someone now?” Daniel could think of no one more qualified than Sheshbazzar, no one who better understood preserving Yahweh’s pure truth among foreign neighbors. But to appoint him now, without preparing him or Kezia for the decision?
Cyrus nodded. “I intend to go immediately from our meeting to speak with Darius about the decision. Whomever you choose will need to come to court this afternoon to request permission for the exiles’ return.” Cyrus leaned forward. “So, yes, Daniel ben Johanan. Appoint someone now so my name will be remembered among your people forever.”
“Our son-in-law Sheshbazzar would serve you well, King Cyrus.” Abigail surprised them all with her input.
Cyrus’s eyes widened with amusement. “Is this son-in-law someone you wish to be rid of, Mistress Belili?” His features softened. “You realize it’s unlikely you will ever reunite with those who make this journey.”
“I don’t wish to be rid of any of my children, my king, and Shesh has been like my right arm since he married our daughter.” She turned to Daniel, peace tempering the sadness in her eyes. “But Shesh is the prince of our tribe in Babylon, well respected, and his passion for Yahweh and the restoration of His Temple is unequalled among our people. He is the right choice to lead the remnant home.”
“It’s settled, then.” The king received her comment as if it were Persian law. “Sheshbazzar of Judah will lead the remnant, as you call it, as soon as we locate and gather Judah’s treasure from Babylon’s temples.”
“The locating has already begun,” Daniel said. “Yahweh spoke to me about this day in a vision the day after Darius invaded Babylon.”
Renewed wonder lit the king’s face. “We’ll make every effort to send an initial group within a year.”
“So soon?” Panic laced Abigail’s tone, but she turned to Daniel and seemed to draw strength from him. “Yes, I mean…a year. So soon…that’s wonderful.”
Daniel heard the tremor in her voice and knew he must get her home. “Was there anything else you needed from us, my king?”
“No, Daniel. Inform Sheshbazzar to make his plea before Darius today. I’ll allow Babylon’s king to approve the decision, whereby he’ll save face in his city after his poor decision on the Hidati festival. A proclamation in my name will be read throughout the empire, inviting all Judeans from any province to return to Jerusalem.”
“Thank you, my king.” Daniel stood on shaky legs and helped Abigail to her feet so they could bow to a foreign king who listened to Isaiah’s words better than God’s own people.
Cyrus nodded his acknowledgment, and Allamu rose to escort them. As they reached the courtyard gate, Allamu stopped them, but he wouldn’t look at them. Daniel had seldom seen him so unnerved. “What is it? Has Cyrus planned something he didn’t tell us? Are we in danger?”
“No, no!” Allamu’s denials brought his gaze to Daniel’s, and he saw the same frightened expression of the eleven-year-old boy he’d once known. “You can’t go. You simply can’t g—”
Abigail pressed two fingers to his lips. “Daniel and I will discuss our decision on the way home, but it must be our decision, Son. No one else’s.”
She removed her fingers, and Allamu bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “I don’t want to lose you again. I can care for you both here in Babylon. Cyrus assured me I’ll remain Darius’s chief administrator.”
Abigail brushed his cheek, tears shining in her eyes. “Thank you, my sweet boy. Your care means more than you can know, but we must make the decision based on God’s promises alone, not on anyone else’s.”
Allamu turned to Daniel, pleading. “What about the others? I just…surely all of them aren’t going to Jerusalem, are they? Not the little ones too.” He clasped both hands behind his back as if not sure what to do with the emotions they held.
Daniel wished he could embrace the awkward man before him, knowing he dare not show such affection—yet. “Not everyone has decided who will go and who will stay, but why don’t you join us for as many meals as you’re able. You will want to spend as much time as possible with your sisters and their families.”
The muscles in his jaw worked as he considered Daniel’s invitation. Then, without warning, Allamu pulled Daniel into a fierce embrace. “Thank you.” Before Daniel could reply, Allamu released him and strode away, waving a hand over his head. “I’ll see everyone tonight for our meal.”
46
In that day the remnant of Israel,
the survivors of Jacob,
will no longer rely on him
who struck them down
but will truly rely on the LORD,
the Holy One of Israel.
—ISAIAH 10:20
When Daniel and I returned home, Kezia was marching around the courtyard in front of the children, reenacting the story of Joshua and the walls of Jericho. Oh, how I wished I could paint the picture and tuck it away with our keepsakes. I tried to etch every sweet face in my mind, knowing our lives would too soon become quieter in Babylon.
Daniel waved our daughter toward the library. “Kezia,” he said, “let the older children teach the younger ones for a while. Your ima and I must speak with you.” Fear shadowed her features immediately.
Mert came from the kitchen at the sound of Daniel’s voice. “Well, you’re alive. Was it good news or bad?”
“Good news,” Daniel said, looking to me for affirmation.
“Yes, good.”
Mert sensed my hesitation. “Huh. I’ll fix a nice meal tonight in case someone goes to the lions.”
“Mert!” I meant to chastise her, but she’d already retreated to the kitchen. Daniel winked at me. Kezia stood beside me, pale as parchment. “Is someone going to the lions?”
“No one is going to the lions,” he said, leading us both to the small room off the courtyard, where we sat on cushions in a circle. “Kezia,” Daniel began without preamble, “King Cyrus summoned us to meet him secretly at Allamu’s house.”
“But why? Is Allamu all right?” The fear for his safety both warmed and crushed my heart. They’d just found each other, discovered they liked the other, and worked out a way to live at peace. Yahweh, prepare my family’s hearts for the difficult days ahead.
“Allamu is well, my girl. King Cyrus called for your ima and me because he discovered his name in Isaiah’s prophecy. A king named Cyrus would return our people from captivity to rebuild Jerusalem and Yahweh’s Temple.”
Her mouth flew open, joy and awe drawing out a laugh. “How can
it be? Abba, hadn’t you read this in Isaiah’s scrolls?”
“Not all his writings have been available to me. King Cyrus, however, has many of our ancient writings that I believe he’ll donate with other sacred texts and Temple items for the remnant’s departure as early as next spring.”
“The remnant?” Shock tempered her excitement. “Next spring? He’ll allow the Jews to return to Jerusalem? Hasn’t it only been sixty-eight years?”
Daniel nodded slowly. “I suspect it will take two more to rebuild the Temple. Jeremiah’s prophesied seventy years will be fulfilled.”
Kezia covered an excited gasp. “Wait until Shesh hears! I can begin harvesting and drying vegetables, fruit, and fish right away.” She turned to me. “We have much to prepare, Ima!”
“Your ima and I will not return with the remnant, Kezia.” Her abba’s blunt declaration stilled her. “Cyrus said I would not lead the returning exiles. I agreed, so he asked who I would recommend. I suggested someone honorable. Trustworthy. Respected. A leader who could balance his passion for Yahweh with the peacemaking skills necessary for that area of Palestine—”
“No, Abba. You didn’t.”
Daniel nodded once. “Shesh is the best man to do it, Daughter.”
“No!” She looked at me. “Ima, how could you allow it? You know what happens when men are called to lead.”
“Kezia,” Daniel said, “we believe Shesh is Yahweh’s choice—”
I placed my hand on his leg, quieting him before emotions escalated further. “Will you let me speak with Kezia alone?”
Both husband and daughter looked surprised. Usually her abba handled our emotionally charged girl, but Daniel agreed, kissing Kezia’s hand before he left. Her jaw was set like flint.
When her abba closed the door, I kept my eyes focused on my hands. “I thought I’d lost you the day I confessed my past, and I was afraid I’d lost your abba when he was lowered into that lions’ pit. But those two experiences have taught us one thing, Kezia bat Daniel. We must hold loosely to the things on this earth—both possessions and the people most precious to us.”
I looked at her to see if my words had any effect. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the sharp lines of her brow turned upward, softening. I continued. “Our family has been planning to return together for months, but your abba has ached to return for years. He made a promise with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego that they would return together. It’s been difficult for him to let go of his dream.” I laid my hand on her cheek, remembering the baby girl I’d held in my arms and drinking in the amazing woman I’d come to know. “I suspect your dream is to surround yourself with family and remain in a comfortable villa until your great-grandchildren close your eyes in death.”
“That was my dream,” she said, pouting.
“Which is more important? Your comfortable dream or leaving a legacy for the nation of Yahweh’s people? You and Shesh will lead our people home, representing high and low, rich and poor. I am the daughter of servants. Your abba is the son of kings. It is an honor beyond reckoning.”
“But Jerusalem isn’t the city you left, Ima. It’s a pile of rubble. There’s nothing left after Nebuchadnezzar destroyed it.” Her eyes filled with tears, as did mine.
“You’re right. It will be the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. But remember this: Jerusalem isn’t merely a city; it’s Yahweh’s Promised Land. Of all the patches of dirt on this earth, Yahweh gave it to His chosen people, who have been called to reveal Him to other nations.”
Tears finally spilled down her cheeks, and she reached for my hand. “I don’t want to leave you. I finally like you.”
We both chuckled at the truth of it. “And I, you. But you must go, and I fear you must take at least some of my grandchildren and great-grandchildren with you. Teach them the truth of Yahweh’s laws and stories—as you’ve been taught.”
She pulled away, swiping at tears. “I don’t like it.” Searching my face, she hesitated for a while, and I let the silence do its work. “But we’ll do it.”
I couldn’t rejoice. I could only drop my eyes to my fidgeting hands and nod. Pain tore at my heart. Devastating, thoroughly wrecking pain. The kind that comes only to those wholly devoted, those who’ve held nothing back. I looked up and saw my daughter’s heart breaking too. We fell into each other’s arms, sharing the exquisite brokenness of loving well.
* * *
Shesh arrived home from the Esagila for his midday meal, and Daniel shared the news. His reaction? Astonished. Overwhelmed. And thoroughly committed. He and Daniel went together to present the prescribed plea before Cyrus in Darius’s courtroom. They returned with a signed decree and plans to search every temple in Babylon for Jerusalem’s lost treasures. Everything, that is, except the Ark.
“Why not search for the Ark?” I was more than a little perturbed. “How can our people return to Jerusalem without Yahweh’s presence?”
“Come! Follow me.” Daniel grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the library again. He called to Shesh and Kezia. “Both of you, come!”
We marched like a captive train into the room he’d filled with scrolls and parchments. Still lying on the table was Jeremiah’s scroll, to which Daniel now pointed and read, “ ‘In those days, when your numbers have increased greatly in the land,’ declares the LORD, ‘people will no longer say, “The ark of the covenant of the LORD.” It will never enter their minds or be remembered; it will not be missed, nor will another one be made.’ ”
He looked at me with fiery eyes. “You and I remember it because we’re old, but most of the remnant knows the God who saved Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego from a fiery furnace and me from the den of lions. Yahweh’s disobedient children were exiled from Judah and came to Babylon a broken nation. With no Temple in which to worship, no sacrifices to cleanse our sins, and no priests to present our offerings, we learned that the true power of Yahweh’s presence dwells among His people. The remnant will return without the Ark but not without Yahweh’s presence.”
I felt both loss and freedom in his words, grief and hope. “It seems wrong to rebuild the Temple without the Ark in the Most Holy Place.”
Shesh’s brows knit together. “Jeremiah’s words and our experience of Yahweh in Babylon make it clear we don’t need to find the Ark to return His presence to Jerusalem. Perhaps it’s we ourselves who carry His presence within us.” Daniel’s single nod bore witness to aged wisdom and silent assurance. He would give the younger leader space to wrestle with Yahweh and with the people he would lead.
While our men spoke of great plans, my mind wandered to how our lives were about to change. I glimpsed the weathered trunk in the corner and hurried across the room to dig in my favorite treasures. When I drew out Amyitis’s crown, Kezia, Shesh, and Daniel stood beside me, curiosity written on their faces. “I think Amyitis would be honored to give her crown to Yahweh.” I presented it to Shesh. “Use the gold and gemstones to help replace any Temple items that aren’t found. Since Yahweh worked boldly for His people in Babylon, let Babylon’s gold glimmer brightly for His Temple.”
* * *
Daniel was reinstated as Lord Belteshazzar. His chief role, according to Cyrus, was to advise King Darius. His actual duties consisted of teaching the returning exiles—including our grandchildren and great-grandchildren—the laws of Moses and the words of Yahweh’s prophets.
Allamu continued as chief administrator and remained true to his word, caring for us in ways that continued to endear and amaze.
During the eleven months after Cyrus’s decree to return the exiles, many more Temple items were found, recorded, and placed in Babylon’s palace treasury for safekeeping. To celebrate, King Darius planned a banquet, inviting all the nobles from Media, Persia, and all outlying provinces.
“Must we go, Ima?” Kezia fussed with the pearls Mert braided into her hair. “I always say the wrong thing when spe
aking with noblemen’s wives.”
It was true, but I had learned to deal more gently with my eldest daughter. “Perhaps you and I should both listen more than we speak tonight. It’s the first, and likely the only, royal banquet you’ll attend in Babylon. Let your husband receive the honor he deserves, and allow the other women to compliment you.” I continued working the juniper-scented lotion into her feet.
“That’s good counsel, Ima.”
I exchanged a surprised glance with Mert, thankful my daughter had received my comments without offense. Yahweh was doing a good work in us both.
The banquet was like every other royal feast I’d attended. Drunken men. Half-naked dancers. And too much rich food. Kezia held her tongue and represented her husband well. I, on the other hand, forbid my husband the rich foods and sent not-so-subtle pleas to leave shortly after they lit the torches at dusk. Allamu played his political games, but at least now I knew there was a tender heart beneath the painted smile.
“Mistress Belili.” A deep voice called from behind me.
The king’s Hebrew bodyguard, Zerubbabel, bowed low. “I haven’t seen you since Lord Belteshazzar’s trial, Mistress, and I wanted to say how much I admired your courage that night.” When he rose, he offered me a small scroll, wrapped in a finely designed leather case. It looked very expensive.
“Zerubbabel, I can’t accept—”
“Please, Mistress.” His smile drew me in. “I’ve written the Shema on the scroll inside and had the case fashioned especially for you. Your faithfulness that night and the faithfulness of your husband inspired many of our people to return to prayer. You and your husband have done a great work in preparing the exiles for their return.” He bowed again and was gone before I could argue with such a compliment.