by Lynn Austin
“Did you say some of your people have emigrated before?”
“Yes, about eighty years ago under King Cyrus. His decree gave our fathers permission to go up to Jerusalem and rebuild God’s temple. My petition asks you to allow more of us to return and to establish the province of Judah under the laws of our God.”
“Are you asking to govern this region yourself?”
“No, Your Majesty. No. I am one of the Almighty One’s priests, the descendant of a family of priests. I wish only to fulfill that calling. I also serve as a teacher, specializing in matters concerning the laws and commands of our God. My people were carried into exile because we failed to obey those commands, and so my goals are to investigate the state of things in Judah, to make sure the province is governed by the Torah, and to teach people to fear and obey our God.”
“Suppose I grant only you permission to go?”
Ezra caught his breath. “That would be unacceptable. I speak on behalf of many others who also wish to serve our God and live according to His laws.”
The king silently studied Ezra’s written petition, then looked up at him again, his eyes cold. “Are you requesting anything else from me for your journey? Travel expenses? Soldiers for protection?”
Ezra hadn’t thought to ask for a military escort, trying to keep his petition short and simple. Now he was afraid to ask for an escort or expenses, fearing they would make his petition too costly for the king to consider, especially after his military losses. “No, Your Majesty. I’m not asking for anything else. The gracious hand of our God will be with us.”
The king handed the petition to the chamberlain. “Put this with the others. . . . I will consider your request, Ezra son of Seraiah, and give you my decision when I’m ready. You may go.”
Ezra bowed again. “Thank you, Your Majesty. And may the God I serve prosper your reign.”
As soon as he returned to the courtyard, Ezra sank down on a bench, his legs too unsteady to carry him further. The others quickly gathered around him. “What happened? What did the king say?”
“He asked me a few questions, then said he would consider our petition and let us know. Our meeting flew by so fast and . . . and I can’t even remember everything I said. I tried to keep it simple, but I wasn’t prepared for some of the questions he asked.”
One of the elders turned to the king’s advisor. “What happens now?”
“Now you wait.”
Ezra returned to the house in the Jewish section of Susa where he and the elders had been staying. As they waited for one week, then two, Ezra’s mood went up and down, from hope to despair and back again, as if riding a cart through mountainous terrain. He spent some days thinking about the temple, imagining himself serving as a priest alongside his sons, picturing his family in Jerusalem, God’s holy city. Other days, he resigned himself to living the remainder of his life in Babylon if the king rejected his request.
He missed his family. Whenever Ezra found himself worrying about Devorah and his children, he would try to pray and turn them over to the safety of God’s hand. But sometimes the burden of fear and worry would descend as he imagined his sons standing at the foot of the great ziggurat in the center of Babylon, gazing up at it with admiration. He would recall the Persian king’s cold stare and be certain he would refuse their petition. Again and again, Ezra would close his eyes and pray, trying to focus his thoughts on the Holy One’s promise: “Even if you have been banished to the most distant land . . . God will gather you and bring you back,” and trust that He would show mercy and return His people to Jerusalem.
Midway through the third week of waiting, one of the king’s messengers arrived where Ezra and the others were staying. Ezra’s heart began to race the moment he saw the Persian. “Do you bring good news?” he asked.
“The king’s seven advisors will meet with you and your delegation tomorrow in the council chamber,” he replied.
Ezra felt a stab of disappointment. The meeting would be with the advisors, not the king. In the council chamber, not the palace. “I hope this isn’t a bad sign,” he told the others. Tomorrow. How would he ever sleep tonight?
“Whether it’s good news or bad,” one of the elders said, “at least we can finally return to our families.”
Ezra rose at dawn the next morning to pray, then walked with the others to the council chamber. He tried to read the advisors’ faces for a clue to the king’s decision, but it proved impossible. At last the chief counselor entered and handed Ezra a document. “The king addressed this letter to you,” he said. “Personally.”
“To me?” Ezra slipped his thumb beneath the Persian king’s official seal to read the letter out loud, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and dread:
“‘Artaxerxes, king of kings,
To Ezra the priest, a teacher of the Law of the God of heaven:
Greetings.
Now I decree that any of the Israelites in my kingdom, including priests and Levites, who wish to go to Jerusalem with you may go . . .’”
Ezra had to pause as a flood of emotion choked him. The king was allowing them to go! He closed his eyes and silently praised God. When he could continue, he cleared his throat, reading the blurred words through his tears.
“‘You are sent by the king and his seven advisors to inquire about Judah and Jerusalem with regard to the Law of your God, which will be in your hand.’”
He had to stop again. Not only would they be allowed to return, but they had permission to accomplish what Ezra had hoped for most—permission to govern their nation according to the standards of the Torah. He wiped his eyes so he could continue to read.
“‘Moreover, you are to take with you the silver and gold that the king and his advisers have freely given to the God of Israel, whose dwelling is in Jerusalem . . .’”
Ezra looked up. “He’s giving us gold and silver?” he asked in astonishment.
“Yes,” the chief advisor said. “Keep reading. The letter explains why.”
“‘ . . . together with all the silver and gold you may obtain from the province of Babylon, as well as the freewill offerings of the people and priests for the temple of their God in Jerusalem.’”
“We never asked for all this,” he said to his companions. “Money from the province of Babylon, too? We wouldn’t have dared to imagine such generosity.” He cleared his throat and looked down at the letter again.
“‘With this money be sure to buy bulls, rams, and male lambs, together with their grain offerings and drink offerings, and sacrifice them on the altar of the temple of your God in Jerusalem.’”
He had to pause again. “I don’t know what I said to move the king’s heart this way. He wants to sacrifice to the Almighty One.” Ezra shook his head in speechless wonder before returning to the letter.
“‘You and your brother Jews may then do whatever seems best with the rest of the silver and gold, in accordance with the will of your God. Deliver to the God of Jerusalem all the articles entrusted to you for worship in the temple of your God. And anything else needed for the temple of your God that you may have occasion to supply, you may provide from the royal treasury.’”
Ezra wondered if he was dreaming. As he continued to read the letter, it explained how the king had ordered the treasurer of Trans-Euphrates Province to supply whatever Ezra asked for—enormous amounts of silver and wheat, wine, olive oil, and salt without limit. Artaxerxes claimed he wanted to gain the Holy One’s protection and favor, asking, “Why should there be wrath against the realm of the king and of his sons?” Furthermore, the priests, Levites, and temple servants would be exempt from all taxes, tribute, and duty.
“‘And you, Ezra, in accordance with the wisdom of your God, which you possess, appoint magistrates and judges to administer justice to all the people of Trans-Euphrates. . . .’”
He looked up at the chief counselor again. “Wait. Why am I singled out, here? Surely the king doesn’t mean that I’m in charge—”
“I
t’s exactly what he means. King Artaxerxes has appointed you governor of the province of Judah. He was impressed that you didn’t try to flatter him or lie to him in order to gain what you wanted. He said such integrity was rare in his empire.”
“But I’m not qualified to be governor. I never asked to be in charge. Not of the entire province.”
“That’s precisely why he appointed you—because you didn’t ask to rule. The king doesn’t want leaders who grasp for power and pose a threat to his sovereignty.”
“But Judah should be governed by a descendant of our king, from the House of David.”
The counselor shook his head. “King Artaxerxes doesn’t want your king or your princes or any of their descendants to sit on the throne. He wants you.”
“You must accept the position, Ezra,” one of the counselors urged. “If you refuse, the king might change his mind.”
Ezra lowered his head, tugging his beard. “All I asked for was permission to return to Jerusalem and be a priest. I want to study Torah, not run a province.” But he would obey the king’s order because it meant his people also could return home. They would live securely in their land and serve their God.
“Is that the end of the letter?” another elder asked. Ezra shook his head and finished reading.
“‘And you, Ezra, administer justice to all the people of Trans-Euphrates—all who know the laws of your God. And you are to teach any who do not know them. Whoever does not obey the law of your God and the law of the king must surely be punished by death, banishment, confiscation of property, or imprisonment.’”
“Does he mean . . . I’m to teach God’s law to all the people of the province? Not just the Jews?” Ezra asked.
“Yes. By order of King Artaxerxes.”
Ezra dropped to his knees in the council room, his heart so full it overflowed. “Praise the Almighty One,” he said, lifting his hands. “The hand of the Lord our God is surely on us!”
Ezra thought of Devorah and his children again as he and the elders hurried back to the Jewish section of town to relay the good news. He longed to see his wife, never imagining he could miss someone as much as he missed her. He wondered how quickly he and the elders could pack up and go home.
“Good news!” he told his fellow Jews. “The king has granted our petition! Today we have seen God’s promise fulfilled.”
Ezra made a copy of the king’s letter that night, adding it to the journal he’d kept since leaving home:
Praise be to the Lord, the God of our fathers, who has put it into the king’s heart to bring honor to the house of the Lord in Jerusalem in this way and who has extended His good favor to me before the king and his advisers and all the king’s powerful officials.
On the return trip, Ezra pushed his caravan to travel as far and as fast as they possibly could each day, resting only on the Sabbath. He had watched the moon’s phases and realized it still might be possible to arrive home in time to see Judah and Shallum become Sons of the Commandments. On the final week of the journey, he prodded everyone to start moving before dawn each day and didn’t stop traveling until well after sunset. He would have gladly run all the way home if he’d had the strength. They reached the blue-tiled gates of Babylon on the very evening of his sons’ bar mitzvah, and Ezra left the caravan behind to race to the Jewish section of the city alone, praying he wasn’t too late.
The house of assembly was packed for evening prayers when he arrived. Ezra stood in the rear to watch, too dusty and sweaty from his final, frantic sprint to venture further inside. Tears of joy and pride filled his eyes when he saw his sons standing side by side on the bimah with the Torah scroll open in front of them. Shallum was about to read the passage Ezra had practiced with him, but he halted, distracted, when he looked up and saw his father. Judah saw Ezra, too, and as the boys grinned at him and gave a little wave, other members of the congregation turned around to see why. Ezra smiled as he wiped his tears and motioned to Shallum to keep reading. He listened with pride as both his sons read flawlessly.
Afterward, everyone gathered around Ezra in the plaza outside. He saw his beautiful wife and couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms. But first he quieted the crowd, saying he had an announcement to make. “The hand of the Lord our God was upon us, and the king of Persia has granted our petition. Sons and daughters of Abraham, we’re going home to the Promised Land!” The huge cheer that followed this news was deafening.
At last the crowd dispersed and Devorah came to him, taking his arm as they walked home with their children. She looked up at him and smiled. “I think I’d better start packing.”
Chapter
37
BABYLON
Ezra tried not to awaken his household as he crept through the gate into his courtyard on weary legs. The sun had set hours ago, and he assumed everyone was asleep by now, but he saw a lamp burning, the coals on the hearth glowing faintly, and Devorah sitting beneath the stars as she waited up for him. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” he said. “I had no idea what an enormous undertaking it is to move thousands of people from Babylon to Jerusalem. There’s still so much to think about and plan and organize, and we’re leaving in a matter of days and—”
“You missed supper,” Devorah said, rising to greet him with a kiss. “Again! I saved you some soup. It’s on the hearth, so I think it’s still warm. And there’s bread, too. Are you hungry?”
“Yes. I completely forgot to eat.”
She shook her head at him, a mild rebuke. “If you keep skipping meals, you’re going to starve to death right here in Babylon and never make it to Jerusalem.” She gestured for him to sit and ladled out a bowl of soup, setting it and the bread in front of him. “Did you forget how to sit down and eat a decent meal?” she asked when he remained standing. “Shall I feed it to you, too?”
Ezra managed a smile as he sank down. It felt good to relax. The fragrant smell of lentils and onions made his stomach rumble as he lifted the first spoonful to his mouth. “People keep changing their minds, Devorah—we’re staying, we’re going, we’re staying—what can I do with such people?”
“I wouldn’t want your job,” she said. “It’s hard enough getting our household packed and ready. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for thousands of people and all their baggage. No wonder you’re exhausted. No wonder you haven’t been sleeping.”
He ate several more spoonfuls and tore off a piece of the bread. The warmth of the hearth beside him dispelled the night air. “Please don’t share this with anyone, Devorah, but my biggest concern is safeguarding the gold and silver we’re transporting. King Artaxerxes donated enormous amounts, plus more gold from the province of Babylon and all the freewill contributions we’ve collected. I have no idea how we’ll get it there safely.”
“What did Prince Zerubbabel do when his group traveled to Jerusalem with the temple treasures? They had huge quantities of gold and silver, too, didn’t they?”
“Yes, but King Cyrus sent Persian soldiers to guard the prince’s caravan.”
“Won’t we have soldiers this time?”
“I was ashamed to ask the king for them after assuring him our God keeps His hand on everyone who looks to Him. How could I ask for human protection after such a testimony?”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Do you believe what you told the king? That God protects His people?”
“Of course, but—” He saw her smiling. “Oh. I see your point.”
“Everyone is praying, aren’t they?” she asked. “The Almighty One already performed a miracle to bring this about. I think you can stop worrying, Ezra.”
“You’re right, you’re right.” But after finishing his soup and bread, he found himself worrying all over again. “I’ve been so overwhelmed that I haven’t had time to ask if you need my help here at home.”
“The children helped me pack.”
“And what about Abigail and her new husband? They’re still coming, right?”
“They wouldn’t miss this trip
for anything.”
“And Asher and his family?”
“Your brother is ready—but he’s still fussing over all the things he’ll need to learn once he gets there to serve as a priest. You should hear him.” She mimicked Asher’s nasal whine as she said, “‘Studying Torah and killing lambs at my age? Maybe I should just make pots in Jerusalem, instead.’” Ezra smiled at Devorah’s imitation, easily imagining his brother’s frenzied fussing. “Asher’s sons are looking forward to being priests, too,” Devorah continued. “And so are our sons, by the way.”
“Just like our ancestors,” Ezra said in wonder. “It’s so amazing. A few months ago I worried about our boys turning into Babylonians. Now they’ll be priests! Only God could have performed such a miracle. But what I don’t understand is why every Jew in the empire isn’t packing to come with us. Why remain in exile and live among these filthy Gentiles when we can return to our homeland? I just tallied the final numbers a little while ago and I was astounded by how very few of us have chosen to return.”
“We were exiled well over one hundred years ago, Ezra. I guess a lot of people think of Babylon as their home now.” She picked up his empty bowl. “Are you still hungry? There’s more soup.”
He shook his head. “Everyone is free! We can leave this idolatrous place. Everyone should leap at the chance to go home! I told the Jews I met in Susa they were free to come, too, but none of them are joining us.”
“You can’t condemn those who remain behind, Ezra. God is the judge of their hearts and motives. You provided the opportunity and helped open the door. Now they’re accountable to God for the choices they make. A lot of Jews have prospered here. They probably don’t want to give it all up for the unknown.”
“But they’ve seen how quickly our lives can change, how unexpectedly a new king can come to power and give our enemies a chance to destroy us. Are our people’s memories that short? We commemorate Haman’s terrible decree every year on the Fourteenth of Adar. What am I doing wrong? Weren’t my speeches inspiring enough? How can I convince more people of the need to leave this place?”