Keepers of the Covenant

by Lynn Austin

  He lifted another stone into place, wishing he could build faster. The elders gave him this piece of property near the top of the sloping City of David, just below the temple mount, in a section of Jerusalem not rebuilt eighty years ago by the earlier settlers. Amina wouldn’t have to walk too far to worship or visit the marketplace. And several other families from Rebbe Ezra’s caravan were also building homes nearby, so they would have neighbors soon. The site already had a cistern, and once it was re-plastered, Amina would be spared the long trek to the spring for water. The home’s foundation, leftover from when the Babylonians destroyed Jerusalem, needed only a few repairs before Reuben was able to build on it. But the winter rains would start before long, and if he didn’t finish the house and set the roof in place by then, he’d be unable to finish until spring, unable to marry the woman he loved. The thought of waiting made him desperate. He bent to lift another stone.

  “Need help, Reuben?” someone called. He looked up, surprised to see his friend Eli and five other Levites, including his Uncle Hashabiah, making their way toward him. Reuben still felt wary of his uncle, but Rebbe Ezra had explained that accepting the Holy One’s forgiveness meant forgiving others, as well. Seeing help arrive now was like seeing the dawn after a long shift on night duty.

  “I sure do!” He took a moment to stretch his aching back and shoulders.

  “Well, we’re here to help,” Hashabiah said. “Tell us what to do.”

  Reuben assigned tasks, and they all worked steadily for the next few hours, accomplishing much more than he could have alone. Hashabiah proved adept at laying paving stones and created a smooth, level outdoor courtyard where Amina could work. The men came back for a second day and then a third, and when the cooking hearth was finished and the roof nearly complete, Reuben spread the word that his wedding was about to take place.

  On their last day of work, Reuben was hanging the door on its hinges with Eli’s help when he saw Rebbe Ezra’s wife coming up the street followed by her daughters and two servants, all carrying bundles. “We thought you and your wife could use some household articles,” she said, setting down her burden in his courtyard.

  “Uncle Asher made these pots and bowls and jars for you,” the rebbe’s daughter said. She handed him the clay cooking pot she carried. Reuben was speechless.

  “I’m so sorry we can’t make it to your wedding in Bethlehem,” Devorah said. “My husband is traveling and won’t be home in time. So we decided to bring our presents here to your new home.”

  “Thank you, thank you so much! I’m . . . I’m overwhelmed!”

  “Ezra and I are very fond of you, Reuben. And we wish you and your lovely wife many, many years of happiness.”

  Two days later after the evening sacrifice, Reuben put on his finest robe and set off with Eli and a group of friends and fellow Levites, including his uncle, to travel to Bethlehem and claim his bride. He wished he had wings and could fly all the way there. Joshua and Johanan and their families joined his procession, along with musicians playing drums and tambourines and flutes. They all carried torches to light their way after the sun set.

  Amina had been right; the Almighty One was able to bring good things out of the terrible times in his life. Reuben remembered all the dark years he’d wasted with anger and bitterness after losing his father and the blacksmith shop, remembered breaking into homes and stealing with his friends, always searching for something and never finding it. But those wasted years seemed like nothing compared with the new beginning he’d been offered. He’d returned to the God of his ancestors and found forgiveness and a purpose. And now God gave him the wonderful gift of Amina for his wife. Could Adam have been any more overjoyed when he awoke in Eden to find Eve beside him? Reuben thought his heart would burst with happiness.

  Everyone in his procession sang as they neared the outskirts of Bethlehem. Reuben heard shouts of “The bridegroom is coming! The bridegroom is coming!” Shofars trumpeted the news. Lamps and torches lit up the streets leading to Jacob’s home and courtyard, and the villagers cheered and welcomed Reuben like a victorious king. And there was Amina, sitting beneath the canopy, as radiant as a queen on her throne. She would soon be his wife—his wife!

  One of Amina’s attendants hurried forward and presented Reuben with a gift as he entered the courtyard. “Amina made this new prayer shawl for you,” she said. “She wove it herself.” Hashabiah helped Reuben drape it around his shoulders. Amina’s craftsmanship was exquisite, fit for royalty. She must have worked as hard on this as he had on their house to get it finished on time.

  Reuben could scarcely breathe as he helped Amina to her feet and lifted her veil to gaze at her beautiful face. They stood beneath the canopy to speak their vows, then shared the cup of wine that would seal their marriage. He bent to kiss his new wife at last.

  Shouts and cheers echoed around them as the music and feasting began. According to tradition, they were treated like a king and queen this night, and their guests’ foremost task was to bring joy and laughter to the new bride and groom. The men formed a circle to whirl and dance in front of them, pulling Reuben into the spinning circle with them. The women danced in a separate circle, lifting Amina high in the air on her chair. Reuben saw her beautiful smile, heard her joyous laughter, and silently thanked the Almighty One for blessing him. Food and wine flowed all evening, and their friends showered them with presents, everything they would need for their new life together.

  At last it was time for Reuben to carry his wife into their bridal chamber. He was no longer aware of the music and festivities outside as he closed the door and held Amina in his arms. He could share all his love with her at last.

  “You are a miracle,” he whispered as he held her tightly. “A miracle!”

  Chapter

  51

  JERUSALEM

  Ezra said good-bye to his two sons after the morning sacrifice on the temple mount, then watched as they hurried off to their classes in the yeshiva. Four months after arriving in Jerusalem, they were maturing into fine young men, and he was proud of them. “Do you like your new life here in the Promised Land?” he had asked them just the other day.

  “Yes, Abba!” they’d said in unison.

  “I can’t wait to learn how to be a priest,” Shallum had said.

  “Do you think one of us might become the high priest someday?” Judah had asked.

  “It’s possible. Some of your ancestors served as high priests.”

  “It’s so beautiful here in Jerusalem,” Shallum added. “I feel . . . free . . . without pagan Gentiles surrounding us all the time.”

  “You’re glad we came, then? Even with all the rules and laws you’re required to follow?”

  The twins had looked at each other for a moment, then grinned. “You and Mama would have made us follow all the rules in Babylon anyway, right, Abba?” Judah asked.

  Ezra had smiled in return. “That’s true. We would have.”

  “I like living in our huge new house,” Shallum said.

  “It’s like a king’s palace!”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Ezra had warned. “It is God who raises men up, and He can easily bring them down again.”

  Now as Ezra stood on the temple mount in the cold winter rain, inhaling the aroma of the sacrifice, he felt content. He had asked the people to join him in praying for the spiritual restoration his nation sorely needed, and he knew the abundant winter rain was a sign of God’s favor.

  Ezra thought his work was going well. He had traveled to nearly every town and village in the Province of Judah and spoken to the leaders about the need to teach the laws of the Torah. His reforms had met with very little resistance. He was satisfied that justice was being meted out according to the law by the tribunals of magistrates he’d set in place and by the judges he’d appointed. Now that the winter rains made travel difficult, he looked forward to uninterrupted time at home with his family and more time for his personal studies.

  “Rebbe Ezra, if you can
spare a moment . . .”

  He turned to see three of Jerusalem’s elders waiting to speak with him. He recognized them from the council meetings he held in the assembly hall. “Yes? How long have you been standing there?”

  “We didn’t want to interrupt your prayers . . . but there’s something we need to bring to your attention. It’s very important.”

  “I just met with all of you yesterday in my council chamber and was assured that any problems that arose during my absence have been taken care of.”

  “We weren’t free to speak yesterday.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We need to talk with you alone, Rebbe. Please, if we could just have a moment . . . it’s very important.”

  “Here? If it’s important, why not discuss it when all of the elders and chief priests are together in my council chamber?”

  “Because this matter concerns some of those leaders and elders. . . . Please, hear us out, Rebbe.”

  Ezra folded his arms across his chest. “I need to warn you that if this turns out to be malicious gossip, I will quickly cut you off. The Almighty One won’t stand for gossip and neither will I.”

  “I wish it were only gossip instead of the truth.”

  Ezra studied the three men for a moment as he decided how to reply. They were among the youngest of Jerusalem’s leaders, seldom speaking in the council meetings, sidelined by more dominant leaders like Eliezer. Today their spokesman was a man named Yonah, one of the chief Levites.

  “Very well,” Ezra said. “What is it, then?”

  “Everyone knows how you feel about scrupulously keeping the law of God—”

  “Our future as a people depends on it. Those laws are a matter of life and death.”

  “Yes, Rebbe. We agree. Which is why we thought you should know that many of the people of Israel, including some of the priests and Levites, have not kept themselves separate from the neighboring peoples with their detestable practices.”

  The chill Ezra felt had nothing to do with the rain. “What do you mean? Surely the people aren’t worshiping idols?”

  “Not openly . . . but they’ve taken some of the Gentiles’ daughters as wives, and their sons have mingled the holy race with the peoples around them. And the leaders and officials have led the way in this unfaithfulness. Even if they haven’t married Gentiles themselves, our leaders are aware this is happening and they’ve looked the other way, failing to speak up or to use their influence to stop these sinful marriages.”

  For a moment, Ezra couldn’t speak, stunned by the devastating news. “But . . . this can’t happen! Mixed marriages with Gentiles will destroy the Jewish nation just as surely as Haman’s decree attempted to do—it just takes longer. A generation instead of a day.”

  “You’re right, Rebbe,” a second elder added. “Our people have fallen for the same temptation our ancestors did in the desert when they worshiped the Baal of Peor. God sent a plague to show His displeasure then, and we fear a similar disaster now. That’s why we decided to speak up.”

  Ezra knew the plague in the desert was halted only after Phineas executed the wrongdoers. Ezra had the power to impose the death penalty, but he prayed it wouldn’t come to that. Not since the news of Haman’s decree had a report left Ezra this deeply shaken. Mixed marriages with pagan Gentiles? He wished he could sit down, but there was no place nearby in the temple’s vast outer courtyard.

  “The destructive power of intermarriage is the reason why God told our ancestors to destroy all the Gentiles when they entered the Promised Land,” he said. “Anyone who marries a non-Jew has married their false gods. Such a marriage desecrates God’s sanctity. Children of pagan mothers will never be considered Jewish. And a priest or Levite involved in such a marriage is unfit to serve in God’s temple.” The three men nodded their agreement. “How widespread is this?” he asked, fearing their answer.

  “I’m sorry to say that along with the priests and Levites we’re aware of, we estimate at least a hundred men in this province are married to foreign women. Maybe more.”

  Anger and disbelief made it hard for Ezra to breathe. “Who are the priests and Levites involved?”

  The three men looked at each other as if reluctant to speak their names. “Eliezer the priest is married to a Gentile wife,” Yonah finally replied.

  Ezra closed his eyes. “That explains his opposition to some of my reforms. He has no business being a priest, let alone a chief priest. . . . Who else?”

  “Three other priests, Maaseiah, Jarib, and Gedaliah. And at least five Levites, including Jozabad and Shimei. . . . And I regret to say the young Levite who traveled with you from Babylon has married an Edomite woman.”

  Ezra stared at the man. “Reuben has? Are you certain?” The man nodded before looking away, as if uncomfortable at having to relay such personal news. Devorah said Reuben had taken a wife, but she’d never told him the woman was an Edomite. He’d been traveling when Reuben’s wedding took place. How long ago had that been? One month? Maybe two?

  “I’m sorry, Rebbe. But as you can see, this isn’t gossip. You can easily verify what we’ve just told you.”

  Ezra’s anger and grief were more than he could bear. He grabbed the neck of his tunic with both hands and tore it in sorrow over this desecration of the Torah, this open rebellion against the Holy One who had forgiven them and returned them to their homeland. Overwhelmed, Ezra then tore his cloak, the ripping sound echoing the rending of his heart, which seemed to be tearing in two. He pulled his hair and his beard, but even the pain from those actions weren’t enough to convey his despair at his people’s unfaithfulness. He sank to his knees on the damp pavement, stunned and appalled, speechless with anguish.

  The three men who had brought the news stood back, giving him time and space to confront his grief. But time only increased Ezra’s sorrow instead of easing it. God’s ban on intermarriage with Gentiles had been given to His people from their earliest days as a nation. Surely every Jew knew about the prohibition and the reason for it. They couldn’t have forgotten—which meant they had willfully disobeyed. And Ezra was responsible for leading these people, responsible for enforcing the law with the strictest of punishments—because God would surely punish them all if he didn’t.

  But his grief was also for the men involved, young men like Reuben who must love his new bride, and like the elderly priest, Eliezer, who surely had been married to his pagan wife for many, many years. Could Ezra give up Devorah if he learned God forbade their marriage? Could he divorce her and send her and their children away? Because that’s what his fellow Jews must do in order to avoid God’s wrath.

  The impossibility of their situation brought tears to his eyes. The consequences of their disobedience would be painful beyond words. The consequences if they didn’t obey and divorce their wives and send their children away would be equally painful.

  How long he remained that way, pouring out his distress in prayer, Ezra didn’t know. But gradually, as the morning wore on, he became aware of talking and murmuring all around him. He looked up from his prayers and saw a large crowd gathering, but they didn’t appear to be ordinary gawkers. Yonah and the other two elders explained the situation to them, and he saw genuine expressions of grief and sorrow as the men listened to the news. Yonah hurried over to Ezra when he saw he had looked up from his prayer.

  “Rebbe, these men are all like us, men who tremble at the word of God. They’ve gathered here to grieve with you and to discuss what we should do.”

  Ezra silently thanked God for sending men who would support him and pray with him. “Have them sit down,” he said.

  “Here? Shouldn’t we go someplace dry and get out of the rain?”

  Ezra hadn’t even been aware of the rain. Grief had rooted him to this spot, within sight of the temple and God’s mercy seat. He couldn’t move, wouldn’t move. He shook his head. “Even the heavens are weeping with us.”

  The other men quickly found places to sit, forming a semi-circle arou
nd him like students seated before their teacher. Ezra knew he could easily issue a decree commanding the people to divorce their pagan spouses, and he knew he had the power to enforce it. But the Holy One saw the Jewish people as a single community—if one sinned, it was as if they’d all sinned because they’d failed to correct the transgressors. All His people went into exile, all had been punished. All faced punishment now. And as much as Ezra longed to dictate what needed to be done, he knew the decision had to come from the people themselves to show their willingness to live by God’s laws. Otherwise, his leadership would be futile, and their conformity to the law would last no longer than his lifetime. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t guide them to the right decision.

  “Our grief is only a fraction of the grief the Holy One feels when His law is disobeyed,” he began. “In speaking of the Gentiles, God told us, ‘Do not intermarry with them. Do not give your daughters to their sons or take their daughters for your sons. . . .’ Do you remember His reasons why?”

  “Yes,” someone replied, “for they will turn our sons away from following the Holy One to serve other gods.”

  “And then what?”

  “‘And the Lord’s anger will burn against you and quickly destroy you.’”

  “The Almighty One has only recently turned His anger aside from us and given us a second chance. We have confessed and repented and promised to walk in a different direction. God separated us from the Babylonians and Persians and their abominable ways and gave us the Province of Judah where we can live under His law. Now He’s watching to see how serious we are, waiting for proof we’ve learned our lesson. If not, He can revoke our pardon and destroy us in a single day, as Haman’s decree had the power to do.”

  Ezra paused, gazing around at the other men, praying for the right words to say, words that would convict. “We’ve returned to the sins that brought the exile. Do you remember what the prophets said those reasons were?”