by Lynn Austin
Malkijah turned to Dan again, his forehead knotted in an angry frown. “Is Nava your wife? Are you betrothed?”
“We’re too poor to marry—”
“Then you have no right to be with her, especially in the middle of the night. Even if you aren’t a thief, your own testimony accuses you of wrongdoing.”
“But I love her—”
“She belongs to us now,” Aaron said, taking a step toward Dan. “Forget about her.”
“What do you mean she belongs to you?” Chana asked.
“It’s what the Torah says,” Aaron replied. “She’s our bondservant.”
“Go back to bed, my dear. Please.” Malkijah rested his hand on Chana’s back, trying to guide her inside the house. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“I know what the Torah says,” Dan shouted. “That’s why I needed to make sure Nava was all right.”
The men returned from searching Nava’s room before Malkijah could respond. “We found nothing, my lord.”
“You can’t convict someone without evidence,” Chana said. “There should be two witnesses. Please, for my sake, let the young man go free.”
Nava held her breath as Malkijah took a long moment to decide. “Get off my property,” he finally told Dan. “And don’t ever come near my home again. If you do, you will be punished.” The two men dragged Dan to the gate and shoved him through it, slamming and barring it behind him. “Now everyone go back inside and get some sleep,” Malkijah said.
Shimon turned Nava around and pushed her toward her dormitory. “Wait, wait. I want to explain to our master—”
“You heard him, girlie. Back to bed.” She tried to resist, but Shimon was very strong for an old man. He left her at the door where Penina stood waiting. Inside, the room where Nava and the other women slept looked ransacked.
“Why won’t anyone listen to me, Penina? Why won’t they let me explain?”
“You don’t explain anything to the master unless he asks. Not a single word—understand?”
“Why is it so wrong to tell the truth? I know who really stole the wine and—”
Penina grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “You came very close to destroying your family’s lives tonight, do you realize that? And for what? I told you, our master will never believe anything bad about his sons.”
“But the woman, our master’s guest, she would believe me.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Are you willing to take that chance?” Nava started to reply but Penina interrupted. “You want to talk about the truth? Here’s the truth, so you’d better listen: If our master tosses you out, your family will have no way to live. What will they do then? Your father will lose his land and they’ll starve, that’s what will happen. And it will be your fault—yours and that foolish boy who broke in here to see you.”
Nava knew Penina was right.
“Go to bed and forget about him. That part of your life is over.”
Impossible. Nava could never forget Dan. She helped the other women straighten up and arrange the beds, then laid down on her own. Dan had risked his life to come—and now he could never come back. Nava may never see him again, and she didn’t know how she could bear it. She finally understood why Rachel didn’t go home to see her husband and children. Seeing Dan tonight made the pain of their separation even worse.
The bitterness she felt toward her masters encircled her heart like a poisonous vine. Nava had tried to weed it out, but tonight it had grown bigger, stronger, watered by her tears.
Chapter
16
JERUSALEM
Nehemiah smoothed the parchment scroll on the table in front of him, placing clay weights in each corner so it would lie flat. He and his aides had drawn this map of Jerusalem the day after they’d inspected the walls. “Now that I’ve surveyed the work, I need you to arrange a meeting for me with the Jewish leaders and nobles,” he told them, smoothing the wrinkles beneath his palm. “I want to explain my plan to them as soon as possible. The work must begin immediately. We can’t waste any time.”
“I’ll summon them right away, Governor,” Jehohanan said. The young aide had proven to be the most competent of the three, the most eager to please. He tried to anticipate Nehemiah’s needs and was careful to ask for details. “Would you like them to assemble here in the governor’s residence?”
His residence. Nehemiah still felt uncomfortable living here. A smaller space would have been sufficient for him, like the room assigned to him as the king’s cupbearer. In fact, all Nehemiah needed was a bedroom and this work space where he and his three aides met. But the servants hired to cook for him and wait on him also needed rooms, he supposed. They had quickly set up living and sleeping quarters for him here and had shown him a list of provisions allocated to him as governor—oxen, sheep, poultry, wine. “I don’t need all that food,” he had told them. “I refuse to be distracted by housekeeping details. Keep everything simple and basic.” His priority had been to compose this map of the city’s walls and gates, then divide the work into smaller, more manageable segments.
“I assume the council chamber down the hall is the customary meeting place?” he asked Jehohanan.
“It is. We should arrange the conference for three days from now if you want all the district leaders to come. It will take a day to deliver the message, another day for them to travel here.”
“They may be busy working their land, my lord,” Levi said.
Nehemiah looked up at Levi and frowned. “I was told there has been a prolonged drought. That there isn’t much to harvest.”
“That’s true, my lord, but some of the wealthier landowners weren’t as badly affected as the small farmers.”
“What should we tell the nobles if they ask the purpose of the meeting?” Jehohanan asked.
“Tell them they’ll find out when they get here. I know our enemies will learn what we’re doing sooner or later—I’d rather it was later.”
“We’ll deliver your message right away, my lord.”
The three men were partway through the door when Nehemiah stopped them. “Wait! The priests should also attend the meeting. Inform the high priest for me, and tell him to make sure as many Levites and priests as possible attend. I’m sure they’ll want to join in the work, especially when they learn that I plan to repair and fortify the walls of the temple citadel, too.”
“But if you invite the priests and Levites, my lord, your council chamber will be too small to hold everyone.”
Levi was right. Nehemiah had seen the long, narrow room where the council met. “Is there another place that’s large enough, Levi?”
“There’s the square where the Water Gate used to be. Will that work?”
Nehemiah thought for a moment, trying to recall what the square looked like. The area was large and open, but the rubble that had been shoved aside to create the space still lay in huge heaps all around it. “Too depressing,” he decided. “Looking at mountains of stones from the ruined Water Gate will make our task seem overwhelming.”
“If I may say so, my lord, the task already does seem overwhelming.” The young aide, whose name was Rehum, still hadn’t caught Nehemiah’s vision. Nehemiah would have replaced him, but there was no one else.
“You may say that it seems overwhelming when you’re talking to me, Rehum, but be careful not to say it to anyone else. That kind of negative thinking will doom us before we start.”
“I’m sorry, Governor.”
“Now, what about the outer court of the temple? Is there enough room to meet there?”
“Plenty, my lord. Thousands of people gather there during Passover.”
Thousands of people. Nehemiah had seen them flocking to the temple a few days ago on the Ninth of Ab, the anniversary of the temple’s destruction. Their desire to seek God’s forgiveness had moved him deeply. “The people! Excellent idea!” he said, resisting the urge to shout. “We’ll extend the invitation to them, as well. We won’t obligate them to come,
but if they would like to hear my announcement, they’ll be welcome.”
“What would be the point of inviting the people?” Jehohanan asked.
“The lack of security in this city has them living in fear. I want them to get as excited about rebuilding the walls as I am. That way, even if the leaders balk at the idea, perhaps the people will join in the work without them.”
“We could easily arrange for the meeting to take place in the outer courtyard of the temple,” Levi said. “After one of the daily sacrifices.”
“Excellent. God helped us do the impossible sixty years ago and rebuild His temple, didn’t He? We can point to the finished building as an example of what we can do with the Almighty One on our side.”
“That’s a lot of people to inform, my lord—leaders, nobles, priests, lay people . . .”
“Then you’d better get started.”
Three days later, Nehemiah’s stomach fluttered as he surveyed the huge crowd gathering in the outer court of the temple after the morning sacrifice. They didn’t know him. He wasn’t a proven leader. Would they listen to him? Could he convince them to undertake this project? He had watched King Artaxerxes in action over the past few years and knew that people eagerly followed a compelling leader. One who was decisive. Inspiring. Charismatic. Nehemiah was none of those things. But the hand of the Lord my God is upon me.
He had instructed the nobles and officials and district leaders to assemble in the front, below his platform, to ensure they didn’t miss a word. He also wanted to judge their reaction to his announcement. He recognized a few of the ones he had met—Shallum and Rephaiah from the district of Jerusalem. Malkijah, the leader of a wine-growing district west of Jerusalem. He saw that Eliashib the high priest had come. And Rebbe Ezra. The rebbe didn’t know what Nehemiah planned, but surely he would throw his support behind this project.
Nehemiah gazed up at the cloudless sky, the summer sun already bleaching the color from it. He had fasted and prayed in preparation for this announcement, and the aroma of the morning sacrifice, pungent in the motionless air, intensified his hunger. He wiped beads of sweat from his brow, waiting until all but a few stragglers had assembled in front of him, then held up his hand for silence. He would begin his speech without elaborate greetings or a lengthy preamble.
“You see the trouble we are in: Jerusalem lies in ruins, and its gates have been burned with fire. The Almighty One’s city, the place He has chosen to meet with His people, lies in disgrace, neglected and defenseless. Our enemies can point to its destruction as a visible sign of the Almighty One’s judgment. And that’s exactly what these ruined walls symbolize. In fact, on the ninth day of this very month, more than 120 years ago, the enemy destroyed God’s holy temple because of our sin. We just held a fast to commemorate that tragic day.
“But now God has brought us back to our land. He has forgiven our sins. Restored us. The city of Jerusalem should serve as a testimony to His goodness and grace, not His judgment.” Nehemiah paused dramatically, aware that he had their full attention. “Come, let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem, and we will no longer be in disgrace. Let us rebuild it so the nations will know that our God is with us.”
A murmur of excited voices swept through the crowd. He waited until it died away. “I know beyond a doubt that the gracious hand of my God is upon me, and that He will help us accomplish this task. He already answered my prayers and provided an opportunity for me to speak to the Persian emperor about this city. And God gave me favor in the king’s sight so he would grant my petition. King Artaxerxes even provided letters of authorization to show to the governors of our neighboring provinces who might try to stop us. He gave me another letter for Asaph, keeper of the king’s forest, who will provide timber for the beams and gates. All of these things testify to the fact that the Holy One is with us, answering our prayers, working on our behalf. There is nothing to stop us from rebuilding the wall.”
Again, a wave of excitement rippled through his audience, the voices louder this time. But some of the leaders seemed unconvinced. He gestured to the high priest, standing in front of him. “Did you have a question, Eliashib?”
“Rebuilding the temple was a huge undertaking that took several years. How many years do you expect it to take to complete the wall?”
“I expect to finish in a matter of months, not years. I have a plan—”
“Come now, Governor,” a council member named Meshullam interrupted. “You can’t possibly gather everything you need in a matter of months—laborers, tools, supplies, equipment, scaffolding. Surely it will take at least a year, if not more, to rebuild a wall that’s several miles long.”
“We don’t have a year. Our enemies have tried repeatedly to stop our building efforts in the past, and we can’t allow that to happen again.”
“Even unopposed, the task will be impossible to accomplish in a few months,” Meshullam said.
“My plan is to divide the work into smaller projects and appoint a leader to be in charge of each gate or section. He will assess his assigned work and decide what needs to be done. I’ve already finished a preliminary inspection, and the wall’s foundations look sound, especially the portions where the wall was built on bedrock. Some parts of the wall will have to be completely constructed from the foundation up. Other sections will need to be repaired, but are otherwise sound. And I saw several places that are going to need to be fortified and reinforced to make them strong again. The gates must all be built from scratch, of course. The leader in charge of each section will be responsible for finding his own volunteers and equipment and supplies. And he’ll be responsible for supervising the work. The skilled architects and engineers and builders among us will serve as advisors.”
“Our enemies will surely try to stop us,” the district leader of Mizpah shouted out. “They have in the past.”
“True. That’s why we must work quickly so it doesn’t happen again. Listen, the most important thing—and the key to our success—is that we must work together. We all need to understand the importance of this project, the urgency. And we need to work as one man to get it done. The Almighty One has provided an open door. We need to walk through it in faith, trusting Him for our success.”
“What you’re asking of us is unprecedented,” Rephaiah, one of Jerusalem’s district rulers, said.
“You’re wrong. There is a precedent—the construction of God’s Tabernacle. Moses called for freewill offerings from all the people in order to build it. No one was taxed or compelled to give. And all of the people, young and old, men and women, rich and poor, brought what they had and offered it to God. Some could give only a little—wood or yarn or spices. Others were able to contribute costly things—gold, silver, and precious stones to create the high priest’s breastplate. But no matter how great or small, everything the people gave was added together to accomplish the task. In fact, so many contributions piled up that Moses had to tell the people to stop. The tabernacle was quickly completed according to God’s plan. And to His glory. Jerusalem’s wall will be completed, as well.”
Nehemiah sensed his audience’s growing excitement. The people would support him, he was certain of it. But there was one more thing they needed to know. “Jerusalem’s wall is real, but it’s also symbolic,” he said. “In a way, we destroyed the wall ourselves by relying on idols instead of on God. We destroyed it by desecrating His Sabbaths. By ignoring the laws He gave us, laws that teach us how to live. These ruins are a picture of what we did to our relationship with the Almighty One—we demolished it. Now it’s time to rebuild what our sins have destroyed. It’s time to repair the foundations of our faith and renew our covenant with God. To restore His laws and precepts, and live by them. Rebuilding this physical wall won’t do us any good unless we also rebuild our lives with the Almighty One at the center.”
He paused to wipe a runner of sweat trickling down his face. “God sees us as one people—the children of Abraham. He sent us into exile together, and He also brought us
out together. Let’s forget our past grudges and the differences that divide us—rich and poor, nobles and farmers, priests and people—and work together as one, as His chosen people. This good work of rebuilding the wall is what I came here from Susa to do. And it will get done, so help me God. Are you with me?”
A great cheer went up. “Let’s start today!” someone shouted.
“Yes!”
“Let’s do it!”
Nehemiah waited until the shouting died away. He couldn’t help smiling. “I hoped you would say that.”
“How do we begin?” Shallum, one of Jerusalem’s district leaders, asked.
Nehemiah signaled to his aides to hold up the map. “I’ve drawn up this map of the city. The next step is for leaders and volunteers to come forward and each claim a section to repair—next to your house or your workplace or wherever you choose. Then gather your teams together so we can begin the work as soon as possible.”
Nehemiah stepped down from the platform to the excited buzz of voices. He felt as if he could sprout wings and fly—and longed to run to a section of ruined wall and start piling building blocks on top of each other right now.
“Nehemiah!” someone called. He turned and saw his two brothers weaving through the crowd to join him, grinning broadly. “Why didn’t you tell us what you were planning?” Ephraim asked, thumping his back.
“I thought I would surprise you.”
“So, this is what you really came here to do,” Hanani said. “Rebuild Jerusalem.”
“Yes, and we’re going to accomplish it together.” He felt fearless, invincible. Convinced beyond a doubt that God was with him. For the first time he could ever remember, such inexpressible joy filled him that he wanted to dance. “Come work for me, you two. Move your families into my residence. Be my right-hand men.”
Hanani laughed. “We’re scribes, not builders.”
“That doesn’t matter. I need men of faith, most of all. Men who won’t lose heart. They assigned three aides to assist me, but I’m not entirely pleased with them.”