by Lynn Austin
Devorah halted and turned around. “Excuse me for interrupting, but how can you allow your daughter to marry a pagan?”
“I want her to have a happy life. She’ll have servants and a lovely home and will never lack for a thing as long as she lives.”
“You think servants and wealth will bring happiness?” Devorah asked.
The woman gave her a scathing look. “I think you should mind your own business.”
That night after supper, as her daughters cleared the table and washed the dishes, Devorah remained seated beside her husband. “I’ve been thinking about what we discussed last night—about our people’s apathy and the danger of assimilation with the Gentiles. I guess my eyes were closed to it, but I see what you mean now, Ezra. I paid attention today while I was in the market and at the well, and I can see the danger our children face. But what can we do about it?”
“I prayed about Judah and Shallum all night,” he said, lowering his voice. “And when I finally did fall asleep, I had a nightmare. I dreamt the Gentiles were coming to kill us again, but our children didn’t have any weapons, no way to defend themselves.”
Devorah felt cold at the thought. “When our ancestors were on the way from Egypt to the Promised Land, our enemies attacked us and tried to kill us. When that didn’t work they hired Balaam and tried to put a curse on us. That plan also failed, so they decided to be friendly to us and invite our young people to their festivals. They enticed us with the offer of ‘freedom’ and with sexual immorality, and thousands fell for it. We ended up destroying ourselves. That could so easily happen again, Ezra. We can’t escape the Gentiles’ influence. They’re all around us.”
“I know. We don’t belong here. We belong in the land God gave us.”
“But He exiled us here. What can we do if He won’t let us go home?”
“God did let some of us go home, remember? Under Prince Zerubbabel? Maybe He’d make a way for the rest of us to return, too, if we asked.”
“Wouldn’t that take a miracle?”
“We serve a God of miracles.” She could see his growing excitement. “That’s the answer, Devorah, don’t you see? We need to pray—all of us, every day—and ask God to open the door for us to return the way He did eighty years ago with King Cyrus’s decree. That’s the only way we can ever truly protect our children.”
“Do you think God will answer such a prayer?”
“Why wouldn’t He? Nothing is impossible for Him. But if He did, Devorah, would you go with me? Would you help me move our family back to our homeland where we belong?”
She took a moment to reply, knowing it would mean an enormous sacrifice and incalculable changes to leave the only home she’d ever known and travel across a vast, dangerous land. But the risk of having her daughters marry Gentiles or seeing her sons enticed by Babylon seemed deadlier. “If God worked a miracle and moved the Persian king’s heart a second time,” she finally said, “we would be fools not to obey. Our parents and grandparents never should have remained behind the last time.”
Ezra gripped Devorah’s hands. “God sent Moses and Aaron to Pharaoh to demand our freedom. We need to ask the Persian king to let our people go.”
“Who would dare ask such a thing? He’s even more powerful than Pharaoh was.”
He met her gaze. “I would go if the Holy One sent me.”
She gave a nervous laugh, frightened at the thought of her gentle, humble husband confronting the empire’s ruthless leader. “The boys skipped one day of school and you’re Moses now?” she asked. But she could see Ezra’s determination.
“Do you agree that we need to get our family out of Babylon?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“The Holy One declared that our exile had ended when King Cyrus issued his decree. So why are we still here? God promised Abraham that the land would be ours forever. Of course it’s His will for us to go home. We need to be courageous enough to ask for our freedom.” Ezra rose from the table to pace in the courtyard. “The twins were right; there are so many commandments in the Torah we can’t obey here. And they were born to be priests, not potters in Babylon.” He paused and turned back to her. “Will you pray with me, Devorah, and convince others to pray? We need to ask God for a miracle.”
“Do you think this dream is even possible?” She felt overwhelmed and excited and afraid all at the same time. “And are you really the one who should talk to the Persian king?”
“I don’t know. But I’m not going to stop praying about it until the Holy One shows me if this is what He wants me to do.”
Ezra sat in the yeshiva with his head bowed, his eyes closed, praying for the Almighty One’s guidance while his sons studied the lessons he had assigned them, putting in another long evening of work by lamplight. He heard them talking with each other as they prepared, discussing their ideas, bickering over sources. Then their chatter halted. Ezra looked up. “We finally have the three examples you asked us to find, Abba,” Judah told him. “We found people who were discontented with their lives.”
“And a verse for each one,” Shallum added, “showing what God thought of their disobedience.”
“Very good. I’m listening.” Ezra sat back in his seat, arms folded.
“In the first book of the Torah, Adam and Eve wanted to taste the forbidden fruit,” Judah said. “They weren’t content with what God gave them and wanted more.”
“And the Torah says, ‘The Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken,’” Shallum read.
“Good. The Holy One takes our rebellion very seriously, wouldn’t you say?” The boys nodded in tandem.
“The second example comes from the fourth book of Moses,” Judah said. “When Israel was in the desert, some of the people became discontented with following God’s rules and eating manna all the time, and so they decided to feast with the Moabites and take part in all their forbidden rituals.”
“So the Lord told Moses, ‘Take all the leaders of these people and kill them and expose them in broad daylight,’” Shallum read.
Ezra nodded. It was the same example Devorah had mentioned when they’d talked earlier in the evening. “Again, it’s pretty clear how God felt about their discontent, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Abba.”
“Our last example is from the fifth book of the Torah. It tells what will happen whenever any of us become discontented. The Holy One lists all the blessings we can expect if we obey Him, then all the ways we’ll be cursed if we don’t. And most of the curses have already come true, Abba. That’s why we live here in Babylon and not in the Promised Land.”
“But we decided to choose a verse for this one that also shows God’s mercy,” Shallum said, “because God is a compassionate and gracious God. The verse says, ‘Even if you have been banished to the most distant land under the heavens, from there the Lord God will gather you and bring you back. He will bring you to the land that belonged to your fathers.’” Shallum finished and looked up from the scroll, waiting.
Ezra couldn’t speak. From the mouths of his own sons, God had shown him His will. The Lord God will gather you and bring you back. The Almighty One would open the door for His people and bring them home.
“Isn’t the last example good enough, Abba?” Judah asked when Ezra hadn’t replied.
“It’s perfect, son. Let’s go home.”
Ezra wasted no time convening a meeting of the community’s elders the following day. Rain was falling, misting through the open windows and making the meeting room damp and clammy. According to the Torah, rain was a blessing from God—and Ezra prayed for God’s blessing on what he was about to propose.
“We’ve finished our work of studying how the law applies to our lives,” he began. “Now we need to live it. But my own sons have pointed out to me how impossible it is to do that here in Babylon. God commands us to bring sacrifices to His temple. Impossible. He commands us to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem three times a year to
celebrate the appointed feasts. Impossible. Why would the Almighty One give us laws that are impossible to fulfill?” He paused and studied the faces of the assembled men before continuing. “The answer is, He wouldn’t. He doesn’t expect us to do the impossible, so there must be a way to obey Him. My sons also reminded me of God’s promise, ‘Even if you have been banished to the most distant land under the heavens, from there the Lord God will gather you and bring you back. He will bring you to the land that belonged to your fathers.’ I believe God keeps His promises. And I believe He wants us to return home to Jerusalem. Now. All of us. With our families.”
“Now?” one of the elders asked. “Who will lead us? We don’t have Moses or a royal descendant like Prince Zerubbabel this time.”
“All you have is me,” Ezra replied. “And we have each other. I believe God is calling us to return to our land, and I’m asking for your support and prayers. When the Holy One first asked me to lead you fourteen years ago, we were in a fight for our lives. I studied the Torah day and night with the other scholars, trying to learn about God in order to save our people. We figured out that we weren’t keeping the terms of His covenant—and we still aren’t. Maybe that’s why our enemies nearly prevailed over us. We need to return home and live by the laws of the Torah. We need to keep the Sabbath and the appointed feasts. We need to appoint judges who will govern the Promised Land by God’s law. And we need to bring our offerings to the temple, for our children’s sakes as well as our own. It’s the only way to safeguard our families’ futures. We have to put into practice what we know from the Torah. We have to keep our side of the covenant we made with God.”
“How can we possibly convince King Artaxerxes to set us free?”
“I don’t know, but we have to do it. We can’t let the Hamans of this world threaten us again. We may have survived the sword the last time, but now we stand in danger of perishing by assimilation. We must return to our land where we’ll be free to live by the Torah. It’s the only way to avoid the divine curse. It doesn’t matter if we read the Torah every day if it isn’t evident in our lives. But if God grants us success, gentlemen—and I believe He will—then we can return home and live in our land.”
“Do you have a plan?” one of the elders asked. “We’re still under Persian authority, you know.”
“Prayer is our greatest weapon, just as it was when we fought Haman’s decree. That’s why I’ve come to all of you. When we’ve prayed and sought guidance, a group of us will travel to Susa together and convince the king’s officials to take our side. Fourteen years ago, God appointed a Jewish woman as queen of Persia. He appointed a Jew named Mordecai as the king’s right-hand man. We don’t know if they’re still in power with a new king on the throne, but if God was able to put His people in important positions back then, we can trust Him to have someone in Susa who’ll hear our petition and help us.”
“And you’re going there yourself, Ezra? As our spokesman?”
“Yes. And I’d like all of you to come with me. My plan is to ask for an audience with King Artaxerxes and petition him for permission to return to our land.”
“What if the king refuses?”
“Or even worse, what if he interprets our request as an act of rebellion? We’ll be back to making bricks without straw.”
“It’s a very long journey to Susa,” someone else added. “We’d be away from our families and our work for months.”
“That’s true, but do you believe it’s worthwhile to take those risks? Isn’t any sacrifice we made worth it to finally return to our land? I’m sure you realize what’s at stake if we don’t succeed—we’ll lose the next generation of young people. Within a few more years, we’ll die out as a people just as surely as if Haman’s decree had killed us.”
Ezra looked around at the gathered men. He had said what he’d come to say. He tugged his beard for a moment, then asked, “Who’s with me? And more important, who’s with God?”
One by one the elders rose from their seats to stand in solidarity with him. Every man supported him. “Praise God,” Ezra whispered. “Praise God.”
Chapter
33
CASIPHIA
Reuben awoke with a pounding headache. He had celebrated with too much wine last night, and the noise his younger brother and sister were making outside in the courtyard, laughing and teasing each other, sent a jolt of pain through his temples like a hot poker. How would he cope with the clanging and pounding in the forge all day? Then he remembered why he had celebrated last night, and he smiled to himself. He didn’t have to work another day for that thief who had stolen Abba’s forge. Reuben would be his own boss from now on. At last.
He sat up and felt beneath his straw mattress for his money pouch, gripping it in his fist when he found it. He’d slept with it nearby, knowing how easily thieves could creep inside a house during the night, stealing while people slept.
Outside, his sister gave another shriek of laughter. Reuben lay down again and covered his eyes, wondering if his gang of friends felt as lousy as he did this morning. Probably worse. Reuben thought he remembered Bear and Digger bringing Babylonian prostitutes back to their hideout, but his memories from last night were hazy. He had stayed out until nearly dawn and wouldn’t have come home at all if he hadn’t waited for more than fourteen years for the day he could buy back his inheritance. He had enough money now. Owning the forge had been Reuben’s goal for so long he couldn’t imagine what he would do tomorrow or the next day. He wouldn’t steal anymore, that was certain. It would be too risky once he became a respected blacksmith with his own business to run. He listened to his fourteen-year-old brother’s laughter and imagined them working together as he and Abba once had.
There had been lean years for Reuben and his gang of friends, especially after the disastrous ship robbery when Bear and Nib were injured. For a long time, the gang had stolen barely enough to live on. But the warehouse they’d robbed last night had yielded a cache of gold, plenty for each of them, even after dividing it five ways. If his Uncle Hashabiah knew all the things Reuben had done, he would say, “Stone the wayward son!” But Reuben didn’t care. His goal was finally within his grasp, as close as the money pouch he gripped in his hand.
The door to his room creaked open. “Reuben, you’ll be late for work,” his sister called.
“Stop shouting. I’ll get up when I feel like it.”
“But you’re supposed to be in the blacksmith shop. Your boss—”
“Go away! I’m not going to work today.” Or ever again, he added to himself. He rolled over and fell asleep.
The sun was high above his house when he finally rose. Reuben washed and changed out of his sour-smelling tunic. He refused his mother’s offer of food, his stomach still roiling, and crossed the lane to the blacksmith shop. His boss sat in the alcove behind the partition, reviewing his accounts. He glanced up at Reuben and frowned. “You’re late. Your sister said you were sick.”
Reuben tossed his bulging money pouch onto the table with a satisfying clunk. “I’ve come to buy back my father’s shop. You’ll find more than enough gold in there to pay for it.”
“My shop isn’t for sale,” he replied. “I finished paying your family the agreed-on price years ago. The smithy is mine now.”
“And I’m telling you to name your price. You know this place is rightfully mine. I want to buy it back.”
“You can’t possibly pay me what it’s worth. I know the salary you earn, and I know you help support your family on that pay. You couldn’t have saved enough during that time to—”
Reuben grabbed the bag and yanked open the drawstring, dumping the contents onto the table. The stolen coins clinked against each other as they poured out. “Look! I have more than enough!”
His boss’s eyes widened. He looked uneasy as he shoved the pile of coins back toward Reuben. “I don’t know where this came from . . . it doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in selling my shop for any amount. It will be my son’s s
omeday.”
His son’s. Rage squeezed Reuben’s chest, making it hard for him to breathe. The man’s son worked alongside his father as an apprentice the way Reuben once worked beside Abba. The injustice infuriated him. Reuben had to leave—he would lose control and punch the man if he didn’t. He scooped up the coins and poured them back into the bag.
“Reuben, wait!” He heard his boss calling after him. “You have work to do.” Reuben kept walking, brushing past the man’s scrawny son as he stalked through the forge. The boy held one of Abba’s best hammers, and Reuben had to fight the urge to snatch it from his hand and pound him with it.
Uncle Hashabiah was to blame for this injustice. It was his responsibility to straighten out the mess he’d created. Reuben walked to Casiphia’s market square where his uncle sold imported cloth, trading with merchants from throughout the Persian Empire. Hashabiah was bargaining with a merchant over a cartload of brightly dyed linen when Reuben interrupted him.
“I need to speak with you.”
“Is everything okay, Reuben?”
“No, it isn’t,” he said with icy calm. “You stole my father’s smithy from me, and now you need to help me buy it back.”
Hashabiah’s brow creased in a frown. “Give me a moment to finish my business. Then we’ll talk.” He motioned for Reuben to wait in the rear of the booth where he kept a pile of cushions and a small table to serve refreshments to his customers. Hashabiah had sons of his own who worked with him, but they were nowhere to be seen. Reuben listened to the two men bartering, each trying to squeeze out the best deal, and he knew his uncle was capable of driving a hard bargain. Hashabiah could force the man to sell the forge to Reuben if he made up his mind to help him.
Reuben’s temper had a chance to cool while he waited, and he vowed to control it. He was no longer a boy who wept with rage at his impotence; he was an adult who knew what he wanted and was determined to get it. He had worked hard and waited patiently for this day, and no one was going to stop him.