A Passionate Hope--Hannah's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  But of course, society’s demands and the nature of growing up would not allow her to do as she thought now. She glanced at Elkanah, whose eyes had returned to the road. By God’s grace, she would do what she must. She wanted to be a mother who stayed close to all of her children. Surely God understood that desire. Surely if she prayed, God would honor that request.

  Hannah walked with Dana a few weeks later to the market in Ramathaim-zophim’s town square. How good it felt to slip away from the daily routine and finally have the authority to bargain for or purchase her own items. She had worked hard weaving cloth in her spare time, and today she hoped and prayed to get a good price for it.

  The streets were already filled with women and children, though she and Dana had hurried to arrive shortly after the sun had risen. Everyone loved it when caravans came from exotic places to ply their wares. The scent of camel dung and sweaty men mingled with that of the spices they carried from afar. Children squealed and ran in and around the merchants’ booths, and Hannah kept her gaze trained on Dana’s two youngest boys. The oldest had gone with Tahath to the fields, and Dana held the youngest, a girl, in her arms.

  “Boys, do not wander ahead of us,” Dana said, shifting the baby’s weight to the other shoulder. “I should have tied her to my back.” A sigh escaped, and one look into Dana’s eyes revealed her weariness.

  “Would you like me to hold her for a while?” The words carried a sudden wistful longing Hannah had not expected to feel. After all, she helped Dana with the children often. At Dana’s willing nod, she smiled.

  “Here, let me take my scarf and tie it so she can rest against you until she wants to eat again.”

  “I can use my scarf.” Hannah blinked away the emotion that threatened, wishing for an intense moment that she could be the one to nurse the child. She pulled the scarf from her head, twisting it to fit into a type of sling. Dana placed the baby in the folds of the material and helped Hannah tie her securely in front of her.

  The scent of baby skin wafted to her. Oh Adonai, why do You withhold this blessing from me?

  She cuddled the child with one arm and carried the weaving basket in the other hand while Dana took hold of her sons. They should have taken the children to Galia, but neither one of them had the energy to make the extra trip.

  The sounds of the market grew louder, the sights and smells filling their senses. Warm yeasty breads and pastries were piled in baskets spread out on tables in one booth. Pottery lined the floor of another. Several weavers’ booths filled the area, along with the fishmongers at the far end and people selling fruits and vegetables and date wine in some of the other stands.

  Merchants from the caravan pulled out jewels and perfumes and all manner of oils and lotions for smoothing the skin. “Do they think we live in kings’ palaces?” Hannah asked, leaning close to Dana, who stood glancing over the variety of lavender oils and the heady frankincense.

  “They are probably on their way north and east to places that have kingdoms. Perhaps they hope they can sell some of them along the way.”

  “Perhaps.” Hannah touched a sample of the lavender oil and held it to her nose.

  “It is lovely, is it not?” The merchant noticed them and hurried over, arms flailing. “And such quality! You will not find anything as nice anywhere in Judah or Israel.”

  “I’m afraid a lowly Levite cannot afford such things,” Hannah said before Dana could reply. She motioned Dana to follow and headed toward the closest weaver. “I’m sorry. I would love to have bought some of that oil, but I’m not sure what Elkanah would say.” She gave Dana an apologetic look. “I need to see if I can sell these cloths.”

  The baby started fussing at that moment, so they took time to switch her to Dana’s arms and covered her with the scarf so Dana could feed her as she walked about with the boys close beside her. At least the boys were obedient, unlike some of the cousins they no longer lived with.

  Hannah left Dana at the edge of the tent and ducked her head into the weaver’s booth. She pulled one of the pieces from her basket and showed it to the merchant, an older, semi-toothless woman.

  “Uh-hum,” the woman said, her smile revealing a wide gap. “Are there more?”

  Hannah nodded. “I have four lengths done and one I’m still working on at home.”

  The woman ran her fingers over the smooth cloth, turned it over, held it to the light, and finally proclaimed it good. “I will pay you in trade if you will take it, as I do not deal in gold.”

  Hannah drew her lips taut, disappointed. She took the piece back and tucked it into the basket. “Perhaps I will see what the other merchants can offer.” She had no need to trade cloth for cloth!

  “My husband owns the pottery booth. My niece runs the vegetable booth. My sister sells many baked goods. And the oils you were admiring next door come from my cousin. When I said I deal in trade, I meant many things, my dear.”

  Hannah held the woman’s gaze, her thoughts churning. She couldn’t possibly trade for the lavender oil, but a piece of pottery or some of the special pastries for tonight’s meal might be nice. But gold would help Elkanah with bigger purchases, such as adding on to their home or buying more sheep.

  She shook her head. “Let me think about it.” She hurried off before the woman could argue with her, though she did hear her huff and mutter as she left the tent. She glanced at Dana. “She only deals in trade.”

  “Ah, I see. Most of the merchants have taken to doing that as gold and silver are much harder to come by.” How was it that Dana knew so much? Of course, she had been in the family far longer.

  Hannah turned about and stepped back into the tent. She did like the woman, after all, and maybe they could strike a bargain.

  “So you’re back already.”

  “I have a question.”

  “Then ask it.”

  “Do you also deal in sheep and animals and other larger items?”

  The woman looked her up and down. “I have a brother who owns many animals and is sometimes willing to part with a few. But their cost is far more than four pieces of cloth.”

  “What would it take to purchase an unblemished lamb?” She could simply ask Elkanah for one, but if she purchased it herself, maybe God would finally answer her prayers.

  The woman held her gaze, unflinching. “You want this for something personal.”

  Hannah nodded but said nothing.

  “Bring me a man’s robe, and you can have your lamb.”

  Hannah smiled. She could do that.

  “In the meantime, are you going to sell me those four pieces or not?”

  Hannah laughed as she picked out her items in trade. When she arrived at home and unpacked them, she found the woman had included a small sample of the lavender oil as well. This relationship was going to work out well.

  15

  Shavuot, the Feast of Weeks, had Elkanah’s and Tahath’s households in an uproar of ordered chaos. Elkanah dressed quickly and headed to the small stable he had added in the year since their move away from his parents’ home, while Dana’s children burst through the back door to the cooking room, where Hannah stood packing food for the trip.

  “Are you ready, Aunt Hannah?” Adam, Dana’s oldest, said. “Ima is asking if you can come and help her.”

  Hannah had been wise to pack their extra clothing and other necessary items the night before, for she sensed Dana would need an extra pair of hands this morning. Her heart soared with a sense of gladness, grateful that she had long ago finished the robe for the merchant and secured the unblemished lamb to take with them. Elkanah had given her a curious look when she told him of her plan but had not said anything to stop her, and he had helped her to care for the lamb since. He allowed her to keep it more as a pet rather than risk damaging or injuring it with the rest of the flock. The animal’s nearness caused her heart to beat with anticipation and sorrow, for she had come to care for it, never expecting how much its loss would mean.

  Please, Adonai, look on me wi
th favor. How often had she prayed thus?

  She forced her mind to the present, tucked the last of the dates and almonds into a sack, and handed them to the boy. “Take these to Uncle Elkanah to put in the donkey’s sack. I will come and help your mother.”

  Adam rushed off to do her bidding, and Oved, Dana’s middle son, led Hannah out the back door toward their home up the hill overlooking the river. She grabbed a handful of her skirt and lifted it so she could half run, half walk up the incline, trying to keep up with the boy. She arrived nearly breathless and followed him into the house.

  “Aunt Hannah is here, Ima! I got her for you, just like you said to!” The child’s shouts rang through the house and brought Dana from another room, baby girl in tow.

  “Oved, don’t shout in the house. How many times have I told you to use a quiet voice when we are inside?” Dana sighed and blew a loose strand of hair from her eyes. “Thank you for coming.” She met Hannah’s gaze. “As usual, I am way behind, and we all need to leave soon or we won’t make it to join the others on the road.”

  “What can I do?” Hannah glanced about the cooking room, and before Dana could answer, she grabbed empty goatskin sacks and began filling them with nuts from pottery urns sitting along one wall.

  “Thank you. Yes. We need enough food gathered. If you will do that, I will finish stuffing their tunics in sacks, and we can get the utensils and load the cart.”

  “I will have this done in a few moments and be back to help you.”

  Dana nodded and turned toward the hall, her shoulders sagging. It was obvious that she was exhausted. Perhaps Tahath could find a maid to help her. Or Hannah could spend less time weaving and come to visit and help more often. Guilt nudged her that she had been so focused on her own needs that she had not taken Dana’s into account. At least when they all lived under Galia’s roof, there were many hands to help watch the children, cook the food, launder the clothes, clean the house, tend to the garden, and even help their husbands with the harvests.

  And there was always the need for spinning and weaving and either trading their work for pottery or going to her father or another merchant to purchase more when something broke. Hannah should have realized that moving Dana away from the larger family with so many children was not something she should have to handle alone.

  She turned back to the food and finished tying the last of the goatskins, grabbed the three-pronged griddle and a few cooking utensils, and carried them out to Tahath’s cart.

  “Are we almost ready?” he asked her.

  She nodded. “I’m going in to help Dana finish the rest.” She rushed back inside but stopped short in the doorway of the children’s room. Dana sat on the bed changing her daughter, tears streaming down her face.

  Hannah approached and knelt at her side. “Whatever is wrong?” Had something happened? Was Tahath angry with her? Hannah could not imagine Elkanah’s brother taking out his anger on his wife.

  “I’m so tired,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t get enough sleep because Lihi is always hungry. I never have food ready on time, and the boys are becoming more unruly. They need to go off with their father, but Tahath says they are too young.” She looked at Hannah. “I should never have moved. When we lived together, we had help.”

  “I will help you more. I’ve been selfishly working on weaving to earn money or items in trade, when all along you needed me. Forgive me.” She touched Dana’s arm. “When I finally have a family, perhaps our husbands can find us maids to help.”

  Dana laughed, a good-natured sound. “I will gladly help you in return when that time comes, but I doubt very much that our husbands will be able to afford maids.”

  Hannah shrugged. “Perhaps not.” Dana was probably right. But there was some comfort in knowing that if Elkanah could not afford a maid, then he could not afford another wife, something she had begun to fear he might consider since a year had passed in this quiet place and still she had not conceived.

  She shook her worrisome thoughts aside. “Have we gathered all we need?”

  “Just grab that last basket”—Dana pointed to the far corner of the room—“and take it to Tahath. Then we can gather up the children and go.”

  Hannah nodded. Gather up the children. How she wished those words could be her own.

  Elkanah stood to the side of the bronze altar and watched as Hannah led the perfect lamb she had purchased to the priest, weeping as she went. She had wanted to do this on her own, bearing the full weight of her feeling of guilt for her apparent barrenness. But a part of him couldn’t deny the kick in his gut that he should do more, should pray more for her, as Isaac had done for Rebekah. Had Isaac offered a sacrifice of his own? Had Rebekah?

  The records of these details of their ancestors were lost to history, and no one was alive to ask. Still, shouldn’t a husband take some responsibility in the pain his wife carried?

  “The only way you will know if the problem lies solely with her is if you take another wife,” his mother had said on the road to the feast.

  He had walked away without a word in response, but he could not deny that her comments often haunted him. Three years of marriage and still no sign of a child. Must I wait as my ancestors waited, Lord?

  The line ahead of Hannah shortened, and as Hophni approached with the blade and Phinehas carried the bronze bowl, Elkanah moved ahead, spurred by a sense of duty and guilt of his own. In a moment he was at her side, just in time to cover her hands with his as Hophni slit the lamb’s throat.

  “May the Lord grant what you require of Him,” Hophni said, but Phinehas interrupted by tipping the bowl so part of the blood poured onto the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Hophni demanded, looking squarely at his brother. “You have to pour the blood on the altar.”

  Phinehas shrugged, but the look he gave Elkanah held a smirk. “That’s right. I’m sorry, brother. I suppose this sacrifice is ruined now.” He dumped the rest of the blood on the ground.

  Hophni stared after Phinehas’s retreating back as he went to the basins to wash off the blood. He looked at Elkanah, who could barely hold his anger in check. The look of horror and despair on Hannah’s face heated his belly with fire. But he could not react or lash out at these men. Not here. Not now.

  “I’m sorry, Elkanah,” Hophni said. “It appears your sacrifice cannot be accepted.” He seemed genuinely sorry, but Elkanah did not trust the gleam in his eyes.

  “Offer it anyway. The blood has been shed, there can still be forgiveness.” Elkanah stepped closer to the priest, his hand still clinging to Hannah’s.

  “I don’t know . . .” He glanced back at his brother.

  “I will take the matter to your father if you do not.” Elkanah clenched one fist lest he lose control and grab the priest by the threads of his ephod.

  Hophni laughed outright. “My father will do nothing.” He glanced at the lamb, lying now in its pool of blood. “But I will say he hates to see a good animal go to waste.” He looked up, meeting Elkanah’s gaze. “All right. I will offer it after I take the portions for the priests.”

  “Burn the fat first. You know the law.”

  “And I’m choosing to do this my way. Either that or we toss the carcass to the carrion birds.” Hophni’s smile was calculating.

  Hannah leaned against him as though she might faint.

  “Just offer the sacrifice,” Elkanah said at last, fearing Hannah would be sick on top of this awful travesty.

  “I thought you’d see it my way.” Hophni picked up the lamb and carried it off to the side, where he cut up the parts, took what was meant for the Lord, and had the serving women carry them off to his own house. The less desirable pieces he lifted in his hands and tossed on the fire. Smoke rose, but it did not have the sweet aroma of the fat burning off, nor did Elkanah have the knowledge that the blood, now slick on the ground, had been accepted.

  Oh Adonai, what have I done? I should have known. Didn’t I know Phinehas holds a
grudge?

  This was his fault, and even when he put his arm around Hannah as she wept, he felt no comfort in his prayer, because he knew there was no undoing his own foolish need to protect her. He should have allowed her to make the sacrifice alone.

  Please answer her prayer regardless of the priests’ cruelty. Surely a corrupt priest’s curse would not carry weight with the Almighty against the righteous. Please, Adonai.

  But if God was listening, Elkanah could not hear Him past the anger brewing inside him.

  16

  Four Years Later

  Hannah bent over her personal linens and scrubbed them in the river, a ritual that had grown so common she wondered that there were still tears left within her. And yet the tears fell like rain, dripping into the river and slipping downstream, along with every last vestige of hope. She had come when Dana was busy with the evening’s baking, promising her that she would wash the clothes from Dana’s household as well. Dana’s large household. Would the woman ever stop bearing? Three sons and one daughter had grown to four sons and two daughters in the years since Hannah’s failed sacrifice.

  Elkanah had offered other lambs from his own flocks, but the priests could not be trusted. He’d even offered to build a personal altar, but that felt like idolatry to her. Their forefathers who built altars hadn’t had the tabernacle or the priesthood or even the law, and Hannah could not bear to go against what she knew was right.

  She brushed more tears away, taking time to wipe her face with a piece of linen. Seven years. She had been married seven years with no sign of a child. And Galia’s suggestions that Elkanah take another wife had only increased. On their last visit, Galia had not even bothered to wait until Hannah had left the room, as she usually did.

  “You both know that Elkanah needs sons.” Galia’s words seemed aimed at Hannah, and she could not look away from the pleading in her mother-in-law’s eyes. “And the only way for that to happen is to let him take another wife.”