Land of Silence

by Tessa Afshar

  Chuza joined us that evening. He did not come to fetch his wife back home, but to find solace. Holding Joanna in his arms, he cried too, wrenching male tears that would shatter a heart of ice. Their pain was like a tangible thing, a sharp-taloned beast that ate away at their lives. I could do nothing to assuage it.

  The next day I went to a scribe and dictated a letter. This way, the missive would not be tainted by my ritual uncleanliness. Chuza and Joanna’s plight gave me the boldness to attempt this insane idea when I would never have tried it on my own behalf. I wrote to Gamaliel, highly respected member of the Sanhedrin, beloved teacher of the Law, and asked for his help. A woman with an issue of blood, cursed by God, unwanted by our society, reached out to one so high and asked for pity, for hope, for intercession. I suspected he might ignore me. I could not blame him if he did.

  A month later, his answer arrived. “Come,” it said simply, “And bring your sister and her husband with you.”

  It took Chuza a few months to disengage himself from his responsibilities as steward in Herod’s palace. We journeyed south in an Egyptian caravan. Foreigners paid no mind to the religious delicacies that my illness offended. I was back inside Jerusalem’s walls after five years of absence. I had left in defeat. I returned crushed.

  “Healing is in the hands of God,” Gamaliel said, when he came to visit us at the inn Chuza had secured. “He can give it through miracles if he so pleases, or he can use physicians as his instruments of grace. Either way, the power belongs to the Lord.”

  “What does it mean when he withholds healing, Master Gamaliel?” I asked.

  “Who can understand the mind of God? I know some Pharisees act as though they do. They say sickness is an indication of God’s displeasure. A sign pointing to the stricken man’s sin. A portent of faithlessness and unrepentance.” He shrugged. “It is not so much that these are not valid possibilities. But I think we underestimate God if we believe we can comprehend in full measure his every action. Although sometimes sin can cause sickness in the body, it is not always the case. Nor is lack of faith the only reason the sick are not healed.”

  “Why then, my lord? Why is my wife so stricken?” Chuza asked, his voice hoarse from holding back tears.

  Gamaliel played with the tassel hanging from the corner of his garment. “I do not know, young man. Perhaps God has a reason for tarrying. There may be a lesson in this delay more important for your soul than having a child.”

  “Will you pray for them, master? Will you pray for Joanna and Chuza that they may have a healthy child?” I asked. “Perhaps the Lord will hear your prayers.”

  He turned to me. “And what of you? Do you not seek prayer?”

  I lowered my head. “Perhaps I am not deserving.”

  “Rabbi Hillel once said, Judge not your friend until you stand in his place. It is not for me to judge you, Elianna. What I do know of you is good and generous. You too shall receive my prayers on this day.”

  I covered my mouth with a trembling hand. “You shall become unclean if you touch me.”

  “A good bath and a few hours apart from the noise and demands of life never hurt a man. Stop your fretting.”

  “May the Lord bless you, Master Gamaliel.”

  “Before I begin, I have a question for you. Have you passed judgment on God, any of you? Do you harbor anger and resentment against him for not healing you all these years? For taking Joanna’s children before they were born? For so many losses in your lives? Do you hold him accountable?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again like a gaping fish. “Who am I to pass judgment on God?”

  “I did not say it was the right thing. I asked if you had done it. The heart does not always abide by the rules of righteousness. That is precisely why we offer so many sacrifices in the Temple.”

  “Perhaps I have considered him cruel and uncaring at times. I think mostly for Joanna’s sake.”

  “Then you must repent. You must learn to see him as he is, Elianna, not as your experiences declare him. Not the indifferent thief of dreams your heart accuses him of being. You must come to know him the way the captives in Babylon came to know him. Know him deep in your soul as the One who has plans for you—plans for your welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. This is not a lesson that can truly be grasped in our seasons of happiness. You must learn these truths about God in the captivity of suffering and sickness, just as the captives in Babylon had to learn them while under the yoke of their conquerors. You must learn to trust him when there is no earthly evidence why you should.

  “Even if I pray for you today, your body may not be healed. But your heart, Elianna, can start mending today. Your soul can prepare for the plans God has yet to unfold for your life.”

  Gamaliel prayed for us with simplicity and faith. We all repented before God for our stony hearts toward him. We promised to love him even if he withheld the desires of our hearts from us.

  “The Lord spoke a precious promise through the prophet Jeremiah,” Gamaliel said after concluding his prayers. “‘For I will satisfy the weary soul,’ he said, ‘and every languishing soul I will replenish.’

  “You are weary, my children. You are languishing. I want you to understand that the Lord’s heart rises up to you in a special way, for his intention is to satisfy you. He may yet restore to you the years the locusts have eaten. Do not give in to despair, but trust the Lord with all your heart. Do not lean on your own understanding.”

  What a peace comes at the end of surrender. What a relief there is when you stop striving against God and the world and yourself. I was at the end of myself. And yet, in a strange way, I had only started the most important journey of my life. Like Job I would learn that the Lord was a restorer of fortunes.

  The day Gamaliel prayed for me, my body was not healed. It continued to hold me trapped in its leaking prison, unable to escape. But the heavy blanket of desolation that had plagued me to the marrow of my bones was ripped off, leaving me free to experience peace once more. God himself had torn away the darkness, opening a way for me to start my halting journey toward him. He had seen my weariness, and he intended to satisfy me.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the LORD, and I will restore your fortunes.

  JEREMIAH 29:11-14

  BEING IN JERUSALEM meant that I could see Viriato. He came to us wearing a purple cloak and a fine linen tunic.

  “Purple, Viriato?” My eyebrows shot to the middle of my forehead. “Ethan must pay well these days.”

  “A good servant is hard to find.” He could not hide a self-satisfied smirk.

  “You are hiding something. I can tell. Out with it. Tell us this secret.”

  He shrugged, trying to seem casual. “I received some money from home. My father passed away a few years ago. I invested my share in business with Master Ethan. It was a struggle at first. But we’ve been doing well for some time now. That is all.”

  “I forget that you came from an affluent home.”

  “My father was a merchant, like yours. He owned sheep and sold wool. Middling rich, at best. While he lived, the cash was tied up in land and flocks. At his death, my brother wished to dissolve the business and sold everything. That is how I came to have ready money. Even so, my share of the inheritance would not have amounted to much if Ethan had not added his own money to mine. He sold a piece of land he had purchased some years ago. The property had appreciated in price and he made a hefty profit.”

  “I am happy that the Lord has blessed you, Viriato. Do you work in wool or in dyes?” Curiosity had got the better of me. What business had my old friend invested in?

  “Some of both.” He drew out a sack he had hidden under his cloak. “I have brought you a few presents.�
�

  “Presents?” Joanna cried, brightening.

  “Yes, mistress. This one is for you.” He pulled out a length of deep green linen, the perfect foil for Joanna’s delicate coloring. “You and Master Chuza can fight over it. I only have the one length for you.”

  “Clearly, my devastating beauty is better suited for such a rich color,” Chuza teased.

  Joanna pulled the fabric out of his hold. “Clearly, you have been dreaming again, Husband.”

  “And these are for you, Mistress Elianna.” He placed before me two lengths of wool, one a pale blue, the other a delicate pink. Both were shot through with silver thread. I gasped. They were as magnificent as anything my father’s workshop had ever created.

  My heart began to pound as I fingered the weave. I could have recognized that particular warp and weft anywhere; they were a signature of our own workshop. “Oh, Viriato! You and Ethan bought my father’s trade?”

  “We did, mistress.”

  “Why did you not tell me?”

  “We were not sure of our success at first. Our capital was limited, and without your talent behind us . . .” He shrugged. “We thought it best not to give you too much hope before we knew that we could survive.”

  I gulped past my tears. “You have made a success of it, I can tell.”

  “It took a good deal of time and hard work. But yes, mistress. The workshop has done well for us this year.”

  “You better stop calling me mistress. Indeed, it is more fitting that I should begin calling you master. You have made me very happy with your news. I cannot imagine a better outcome. To have you and Ethan at the helm of my father’s old workshop removes the sting of losing it.”

  “I am relieved you feel that way, Elianna. I had worried you might be hurt by our decision. It is another reason why I chose to keep the news from you for so long.”

  “Hurt? Why should I be hurt when your generosity provides for me even now?” Then a thought occurred to me that gave me pause. I swallowed hard and tried to keep my voice steady. “Do Ethan and Sarai live at the house?”

  “No. He refused. They live in an addition Ethan built on his father’s house. We use your old home mostly for customers. I occupy a small wing.”

  “Which room did you take?”

  He scratched at his scar, a sure sign he felt uncomfortable. “Truth be told, it’s your old chamber, mistress. Ethan said it had the best light.”

  Joanna and I burst into laughter as we thought of him in our old surroundings with their very feminine furnishings. “Do you sleep on the bed with the frothy white linen and gold embroidery on the cushions?” Joanna asked.

  Viriato scowled. “I have not had time to attend such things and make the necessary changes.”

  The image of Viriato sleeping on that delicate bed with its womanly adornments proved too much. Joanna and I dissolved in merry giggles while Chuza made a noble effort to remain unaffected and Viriato frowned like a bear.

  Upon our return to Tiberias, Joanna and I began to study the Scriptures Gamaliel had given into my keeping five years before. Sometimes Keziah would join us, and Chuza as well, when his duties allowed. One afternoon, Joanna and I had just finished reading the story of our people’s escape from Egypt, with the pharaoh and his army in hot pursuit and an impassable sea before them. One of the greatest miracles the Lord had performed for our people was the parting of that sea.

  “Can you imagine passing through with a great wall of rushing water on either side of you?” Joanna asked.

  “Perhaps it is a little like you and me,” I said.

  Joanna stretched on the couch. “What do you mean?”

  “Our forefathers had many dangers to contend with at that hour. On either side of them rose a wall of water the likes of which none has ever witnessed again. The wind raged; the sea churned threateningly like a lion ready to fall on its prey. The army of the pharaoh sat on the edge of the land, intending to pursue them. How easy it would have been for our people, through every step of that perilous passage, to set their eyes on these dangers. How easy to give in to fear and discouragement. Instead of looking upon the salvation of the Lord, they could have been overcome with dread and given up.

  “You and I can do the same, little sister. We can put our eyes on your barrenness or my sickness. We can focus on the dangers that pursue us. Your concern about Chuza’s parents as they grow colder toward you, and your fear that one day Chuza himself may turn away. I can center my attention on my body’s weakness and the cure that seems to evade me year after year. I can drown in my dread of poverty as I expend a great fortune upon remedies that fail.

  “These are the rushing waters of our lives, surrounding us like a churning wall on every side. They are the army of our Pharaoh. But instead of growing distracted and fearful, we can choose to set our eyes on the path that the Lord opens for us. One step at a time, we can go forward, and learn to be faithful in suffering.”

  In the sixth year of my flux, Viriato came to Tiberias for business, though he stayed three extra days to spend time with Joanna and me. One morning when we were alone together, I asked him about Rachel.

  A sparkle lit up his eyes. “She is just shy of three years old, and more trouble you shall not find in such a small package if you look the whole world over.”

  “Does she speak?”

  “Quite a lot, though only her parents and little cousin seem to understand her. She has a very sweet lisp. Next to you, she is the most determined female I have ever met.”

  “Has you wrapped around her little finger, does she?”

  Viriato gave a sheepish shrug. “Me. Her father. Her grandparents. Just about everyone who meets her bends over backwards to do her bidding. It is a good thing she has so much charm; when she doesn’t get her way, she screams the house down.”

  I played with the fringe of my cushion, imagining a pretty girl with a fierce temper. “Does she throw many tantrums?”

  “She could be used as a secret weapon against the Roman army. Her shrieks can pierce the ceiling. Only Ethan can manage her. She minds no one else and isn’t even scared of the Pharisees. Once, I pointed to a particularly fierce-looking Pharisee in his black robe and long beard and threatened to give her to him if she did not behave.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She stuck her tongue out at the man. I dare Caesar himself to make that child do what he commands. If she were not so winsome, we would all have to run away to a different country.”

  I placed a hand over my mouth to cover my laughter. “She can’t be that fierce.”

  “Well—” Viriato gave a fond smile—“I am quite her slave, I admit. She is brave and charming. But even I cannot whitewash over that temper of hers.”

  An image of Ethan chasing after a delightful little girl, trying to subdue her wildness, made my belly flip. Would I ever stop loving him? “Ethan must be so happy.”

  Viriato’s face became grave. “Sarai is sick.”

  I leaned back with shock. “How sick?”

  “They do not expect her to last through the year, Elianna.”

  She did not. In less than six months, she died. The young, pretty girl with hungry eyes chasing after Ethan, the mother of his beautiful daughter, was laid to sleep with her fathers. They buried her somewhere in Galilee, Viriato told me, so that she could be near her mother, who had died not long before.

  For a few days, while seeing to her funeral arrangements, Ethan must have been close to me. Several hours’ walk at most. I wished I could have comforted him. I wished I could have dried his tears. Instead, I settled alone on my unclean cushion and shed my unclean tears for a man I could never touch again.

  When I had been sick for nine years, I went through my small house and gathered every valuable object I owned. Clothes, jewels, carpets, gold and silver plates and goblets, precious reminders of the life I had once lived. I stripped the walls of their tapestries and made a pile in the middle of our room.

  “Will you help me sell them?�
� I asked Chuza.

  “Why do you not allow me to help you? Joanna and I have not spent much of her inheritance from your father. We can spare the money. You are my sister, Elianna. It is my duty and privilege to look after you.”

  I smiled. “Don’t think I do not appreciate your generosity. But I prefer to use my own money as long as possible. A day may yet come when I will have no option but to turn to you for help. Let us pray God will intercede before that. In the meantime, there is a small fortune in that pile. It will see to me and Keziah for several years.” Of course that was only true if I did not have to pay any more exorbitant fees to physicians.

  Chuza pulled a hand through his thinning hair. “These are your memories from your childhood home, Elianna. Surely it is too painful to part with them.”

  “I hold my memories in my heart, Brother. These things do not mean so much that I cannot let them go.”

  There was one piece about which I could not say the same. It happened to be the most valuable object I owned. It was also the most precious to me. I could not find the strength to let it go. I could not bear the thought of looking at a faded patch of wall, without this final reminder of the man I would always love. Ethan’s rare Babylonian tapestry, I held on to and treasured.

  Without warning, Joanna and Chuza’s lives were disrupted by an unforeseen challenge in the palace. After years of being married to the princess Phasaelis, Herod Antipas set her aside because he had fallen in love with his brother’s wife, Herodias. Herodias must have felt the same, for she in turn divorced her husband in order to marry Antipas. The scandal of it rocked our country for a good while. Kings weren’t supposed to set such a bad moral example. Chasing after one’s own brother’s wife was frowned upon even by the most lax of Jews.