Land of Silence

by Tessa Afshar

  I smiled. “I knew God would use me to build your character.”

  The wind was strong that night. It beat against the lattice of the windows, whistling its fierce tune and blowing dust inside. “I wonder where Keziah is. She left to fetch water. That was an age ago. I pray she is not caught in this weather.” I started to feel uneasy over her safety.

  Ethan pulled on his ear. “I might have something to do with that.”

  I glared at him. “I take back what I said about your character. Clearly it needs a lot more building. You involved my maid in an intrigue behind my back?”

  He shrugged his shoulder. “I wanted to see you alone. We had too many things to discuss that required privacy.”

  “And when is she returning?”

  “Do you miss her? I thought I might be a good substitute.”

  My belly flipped. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was unclean. There could be no future for us. He wasn’t my Ethan anymore. “Tell me about your daughter. Viriato sings her praises.”

  A look of tenderness transformed Ethan’s rugged features. “She is eight now. She can read and write.”

  “You taught her?”

  He shrugged. “She pestered me until I did. It was hard on her when we lost Sarai. In the absence of a mother, she has grown deeply attached to my parents. But she is closest to me. She wants to do everything I do.”

  I laughed. “That must be a sight.”

  He gave a sheepish smile. “It warms my heart, seeing her follow me around. She has been the greatest joy of my life.”

  “I am glad you have her. I pray for you both every day.”

  His eyes clouded. “Do you, Elianna?”

  The air seemed to grow heavy so I could barely breathe. To break the tension, I threw my hands up in the air, pretending a lightheartedness I was far from feeling. “I have a lot of free time. Which reminds me, you sly man, how is the workshop?”

  “Do you mind that it belongs to me and Viriato now?”

  “It was the best news I had heard in years when Viriato told me about it. I could not imagine a better outcome. You were too generous with me. Without your lavish payment for my father’s business, I would not have been able to survive.”

  “I paid only what was fair.” He looked around him, taking in the old furniture, the bare floors, the undecorated walls. “Physicians cost a lot of money, as I recall from the days Sarai became sick.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you need help, Elianna? You know I would—”

  “Thank you, Ethan. I am well provided for.”

  He frowned and grew silent for a moment. I could sense he had not let go of the subject, but was merely working on broaching it in a more compelling way. I didn’t want him to offer me financial help. It grated on my pride. I did not wish to become the object of his charity or pity.

  “It grows late. You had better be on your way, Ethan. The neighbors disapprove of me already. What with a centurion in full uniform, as well as a Roman praetor and his pack of soldiers at my door not long ago, they won’t have much patience for an unaccompanied man and no chaperone here in the dead of night.”

  Ethan cut through my diatribe and picked out the relevant point. “Why do your neighbors disapprove of you?”

  “I am unclean.” I lifted my chin as I spoke to show that their scorn did not bother me.

  Ethan’s cheeks turned a dull red. “Are they cruel to you?”

  “They keep to themselves. It’s of no account. I have little interest in them.”

  “Elianna, please let me help you.”

  “No.”

  He let out a deep breath. His eyes had narrowed to slits. I had seen that look before. I tried to remember when, but could not. Without further objection, he rose to his feet. “The Lord bless you.”

  As he left, pulling the door softly closed behind him, I had a sudden recollection of when I had seen that same odd look cross his face. It was the day his new horse had thrown him. He had gotten that narrow-eyed look before getting on the back of that wild creature and taming it into an obedient, biddable slave.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Hope deferred makes the heart sick,

  but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life.

  PROVERBS 13:12, NLT

  DESPAIR IS AN INVITATION to prayer. You can either sink or pray when it lodges at your door. I had arrived once again at the point of despair, and this time, I sank. I had no money. What remained of my inheritance would pay for a month of food and lodgings if we were careful and augmented it with my meager income from the sale of my homespun fabrics. I had prayed for God’s provision so many times, yet nothing seemed to change. I only became poorer and more desperate. One morning I stopped praying and decided I needed to take action instead.

  I came to stand before Ethan’s tapestry where it hung on the wall. It was the only valuable item I had not sold. I knew I would be able to keep Keziah and me for a full year if I could sell it at a decent price.

  “Keziah, come and help me take this off the wall.”

  I heard a gasp behind me. “You cannot sell that, mistress! You love that tapestry.”

  I sighed. “I have no choice. We are going to run out of money. Now please bring it near the window so I can examine it in the light of the sun. I need to ensure it needs no repairs.”

  Keziah did not budge. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Have you prayed about it?”

  My mouth dropped open. Keziah never challenged me. I knew her faith had grown deeper in recent years. Often, she would join my sister and me, fasting and praying and asking insightful questions about the Scriptures. Though she could not read, she had a quick mind and had memorized large portions of the Law. Yet she had never questioned my faith.

  “The time for prayer is past,” I said. I knew my tone was tart, but I could not curb my tongue.

  “Mistress! The time for prayer is never past. I will not touch that tapestry until you promise to pray for two weeks. Seek God’s will, and if he opens no other doors, then I will do as you say.”

  After twelve years of living alone together, the lines between servant and master had long grown bleary. Keziah was as much a friend as servant to me. She had earned the right to reprimand me, though she rarely exercised it.

  I felt my annoyance evaporate. “I have no choice, it seems. I can’t touch that tapestry as I would render it unclean. And you refuse to do it.”

  Keziah grinned. “That sums it up. Now let us pray and ask the Lord to give you his aid.”

  After we finished seeking the will of God, Keziah said, “Mistress, have you heard of the new prophet from Galilee?”

  I groaned. “I care not for any new prophet unless he is interested in buying my tapestry for a good price.”

  “They say his touch heals.”

  “And I say it is time for our noonday meal.”

  The day Keziah had promised to help me place the tapestry on sale, Ethan came to my home. I should have expected his arrival. Keziah kept in touch with Viriato and Ethan and had made arrangements with them behind my back more than once.

  I hugged my elbows and hardened my heart to the sight of Ethan’s beloved face. “Whatever you have to say, the answer is no.”

  “Some things never change, I see. Your favorite word is still no.”

  “I am well aware you and Keziah have hatched some plot between you. I told you I did not want your help, Ethan. I will manage by myself.”

  “I agree. And so you should.”

  “You do? I should?”

  “Certainly. I am here for a business transaction.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What kind of business transaction?”

  “You want to sell my tapestry. I want to buy it back. That is an irreplaceable piece, Elianna. If you are going to get rid of it, I would rather have it in my own possession.”

  “Oh.” In truth, I could not object to his reasoning. The piece was rare and extremely valuable. Ethan had always admired it. I could believe his willing
ness to purchase it for his own pleasure rather than in order to rescue me.

  What followed must have been one of the most absurd transactions in commerce ever to take place. The buyer insisting on a higher price, the seller absolutely refusing the trade unless the price were lowered. If I had not been on the edge of humiliated tears during our negotiations, I would have laughed aloud.

  As he put away his coin purse, Ethan said, “There is a new prophet in Galilee who wields great power, they say. Have you heard of him? My wife’s cousin, Jairus, who is the leader of the synagogue in Capernaum, has heard him teach.” His voice sounded casual, but his shoulders were stiff.

  “Keziah speaks of little else these days,” I said with a yawn.

  “I fear that is my fault. I told her about the man.”

  “I have no interest in new prophets and dazzling miracles.” I jingled my leather pouch, heavy with gold, thanks to Ethan’s generosity. “This, on the other hand, shall bring great relief into my home.”

  Ethan saved me from homelessness that day. What he paid me for that tapestry would see Keziah and me through two more years instead of one. How I would provide for myself after that, I could not say. But for now, at least, I was safe. God had provided, though I, in my pride, did not like the means of his provision. I gave him thanks in much the same tone I had used to thank Ethan. Ungracious and resentful. The Lord did not strike me down, nor did Ethan hold it against me.

  “They say he is a great prophet,” Joanna said, her hands flapping with excitement.

  Not this holy man again! Keziah would not stop talking about him. Every day she told me a new story more unbelievable than the one before. And now my sister was joining her forces.

  “Joanna, you know that amongst the people of Israel, great prophets come and go with the same predictability as the change of seasons.”

  “He is different, I tell you. A report of him has spread throughout this region.”

  “Who is this man? And where does he hail from?”

  “He is Jesus of Nazareth.”

  I frowned, not bothering to hide my skepticism. “Nazareth, that backwater village? He is probably just an ignorant peasant with claims too big for his own good.”

  “They say he astonishes people with his authority and knowledge. Last week in Capernaum, he was teaching in a synagogue. A man who had an unclean spirit came to that place. Jesus cast the spirit out, Elianna.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I wish someone would cast out the dust around here. The weather has been so dry, it gathers as soon as we clean it.”

  “Listen to me, Sister. That same evening, people throughout the village who had heard about this miracle brought their sick family members to him.”

  “Was there a long line? He must have made good money that night.”

  “He charged no money. And he healed every one. No matter what diseases they suffered, the touch of his hand healed them.”

  I frowned. “This is a tall tale, Joanna. How can you be so gullible?”

  “How can you be so cynical? You have tried every physician, suffered every indignity under the sun from supposedly learned men. Will you not give this man of God a try?”

  “Thank you. No.”

  Joanna was now twenty-nine years old. She longed for a child so badly that I feared she would fall for any fraudulent prophet with a slick tongue. I had been sick for twelve years, myself. I could understand her vulnerability. But I was determined that I would not be won over by a dishonest man posing as a prophet.

  A letter arrived from Ethan. It did not mention money or the workshop or Calvus or the past.

  He wanted to bring Rachel to Tiberias so I could meet her.

  I am traveling with my daughter to Capernaum in three weeks so she can tarry with her mother’s relatives. We will stay at the house of Jairus, the man I mentioned earlier. He is the ruler of the synagogue and was my wife’s cousin. Rachel adores his daughter, Lilit. Though Lilit is twelve—three years older than Rachel—the two are fast friends. May we stop at your house on our way back from Capernaum so that I can introduce Rachel to you?

  This request astounded me. I could not fathom the reason behind it. Why would Ethan drag his daughter to my house? To her, I was nothing but a stranger, a shadow in her father’s past. With this infernal sickness leeching the life out of me, I could be nothing to her, not even a kindly aunt offering frequent hugs and generous presents.

  For all my misgivings, I could not resist the offer. The child for whom I had prayed over so many years, the little girl I had grown to love without ever meeting, would soon be at my house. I could see her, hear her, know her a little. To behold her in the flesh surpassed all my imaginings.

  I also knew that this renewal of my acquaintance with Ethan could shred my heart to pieces. He was already awakening feelings and desires I had long since put to sleep. The very sight of Ethan made me long for things I could not have. Marriage. Family. Love. Belonging. I needed fortitude to resist this futile temptation. I could resist offers of financial help and Calvus’s empty overtures and even the appeal of an early grave by my own hand. But how was I supposed to resist love?

  “I witnessed this with my own eyes, when I traveled to Capernaum with Chuza last week,” Joanna said, her face radiant with a feverish light. “Jesus was speaking at a house in Capernaum. Many of us had gathered there to hear his teaching. People filled the courtyard and even sat outside, near the windows, in order to hear him.

  “The air inside was stale from the proximity of too many bodies. But no one stirred. He speaks with such authority that we hung on his words with no thought for our comfort.

  “There was a sudden commotion above us. You shall never guess what happened next, Elianna. A group of men had brought their friend to receive prayer from Jesus. The invalid was a young man, with a thin face and dark, suffering eyes, paralyzed from the waist down and confined to his mat. They had carried his mat over to the house where we were, hoping to see Jesus, but could not get through the great crowds. So they climbed to the roof, removed the tiles, and lowered the man down through the hole, until he landed at the master’s feet.”

  I chuckled. “What did the owner of the house say?”

  “No one noticed! We were all laughing and cheering. Then Jesus motioned for us to quiet down and everyone grew still. He looked toward the ceiling and smiled. ‘I see you have faith,’ he said to the man’s friends. Then turning to the paralyzed man, he said, ‘Young man, your sins are forgiven.’”

  I gasped. “He said that?”

  “He did. There were several Pharisees and teachers of the Law present in the house at that time. Apparently, they did not like Jesus’s pronouncement of forgiveness, for by their reckoning, only God can forgive sins. Jesus must have sensed their displeasure, for he said to them, ‘Why do you question this in your hearts? Is it easier to say “Your sins are forgiven,” or “Stand up and walk?”’ And then turning to the paralyzed man, he said, ‘Stand up, pick up your mat, and go home!’”

  “Well, he is certainly bold. What happened when the young man remained on his mat, gaping at him?”

  “He did not remain on his mat, Elianna. In front of our eyes, that young man jumped up, picked up his mat, and went home, praising God so loudly we could hear him halfway down the lane. Then everyone raised such a deafening cheer you could not hear anything but shouts of joy for a long time.”

  I frowned. “The paralyzed man walked?”

  “As well as you and me. What do you say now, Sister? Are you starting to believe that Jesus is a true prophet?”

  “I see that you believe it,” I said with caution.

  “There is something more I must tell you. He prayed for me.”

  “Did he?”

  Undeterred by my wooden tone, Joanna continued her story. Something in her voice, her manner of speaking, even the faraway look in her eyes made the hair on my arms stand on end. This was my beloved sister I knew so well, and yet there was some intangible difference about her. Joanna had n
ever seemed this content to me, nor had I seen such a joy in her countenance, not even on her wedding day.

  “He has the gentlest eyes I have ever seen,” she said. “It was like being bathed in love, having his gaze rest on you. Chuza had taken time away from work concerns to come with me, and he asked Jesus to bless me. The teacher laid his hands on my head. At first, I felt a peace I have never known. I could feel the sorrow of every miscarriage strip from me. Before long, another strange thing happened. The fears I have carried through the years fell away. Fear of losing Chuza’s love and ending up alone. Fear of his parents’ increasing criticism. Fear of being a complete failure as a wife. I was being washed, layer after layer, my soul cleansed of its many burdens.

  “Without warning, I felt my knees give and I collapsed, crying and trembling. At that very moment I knew I had been healed. I knew I would bear a child. A healthy child.”

  I froze. I could not deny the deep peace that seemed to have settled upon Joanna. But the certainty of her hope alarmed me. How disappointed she would be when her expectations came to nothing. When she continued to remain barren. I remembered those nights when I had lain in my bed with a knife clutched in my hand because hope had disappointed me.

  “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” the Proverbs taught. A truer word was seldom spoken. I smiled for Joanna’s sake, feeling sick inside.

  Sometimes the evidence of our senses and the testimony of the world’s wisdom are plain wrong. Sometimes the Lord is busy forging victory when the mind expects only defeat.

  I had believed in the brutal futility of Joanna’s hope in a mere man. But God, who knits miracles from the fragile threads of our faith, knitted a miracle in my sister’s womb. After so many years of barrenness she became pregnant again. Never have I been so happy to be proven wrong.

  I had the effrontery to remain worried and to doubt. She had lost three babies. Though she remained unshaken in her faith that this child would be born healthy, I could not help but fear she would yet again taste the bitterness of disappointment. This time, however, I was not nearly as contemptuous of this Jesus of Nazareth.