Keepers of the Covenant (29 page)

He took his position in the open where his friends expected to see him, clutching the hilt of Abba’s sword tightly in his hand. His heart thudded painfully inside his chest. Could he attack and kill his friends? He hoped he wouldn’t have to. He hoped they would scatter and run.

At last he saw movement between the tents. A mass of dark shapes crept forward toward the treasury, crouching low. Reuben couldn’t see their faces, but he thought he recognized Bear’s barrel-shaped body and massive shoulders. Then he spotted Digger, tall and gangly. They were his friends—Bear and Digger and Nib and Ram—and with them, were at least twenty other men. Swords glinted in the scant light. They intended to kill all of the guards. And maybe Reuben, too.

“Now!” Reuben shouted when he could see Bear’s face.

Bear looked at him in surprise. “You betrayed us?”

“You swore it would only be the four of you!” It was all he had time to say. Chaos broke out as the Jews sprang from their hiding places and the battle began. From where Reuben stood guarding the tent, he could see men fighting in the dark and hear the clash of swords along with battle cries and moans. It had to be nearly impossible to skirmish on a dark, moonless night with little space between the crowded tents. He longed to join them but remained at his post, tense and alert.

Suddenly Reuben saw movement on his left and heard a ripping sound as one of the Babylonian mercenaries slit through the goat-hair tent with his sword. The man was taking advantage of the chaos to go after the gold. Reuben rushed him, sword drawn, and within seconds he was fighting for his life against a much larger and more skilled Babylonian. His enemy was relentless, and just as Reuben began to tire and lose ground, one of the other Levite guards came to his aid. Together they
killed the man. “Thanks,” Reuben breathed. He wondered if the other Levite knew this attack was his fault. Would he have helped him if he had?

Reuben returned to his post and saw Babylonians falling all around him, one after the other. The battle seemed to go on and on, just as on the Thirteenth of Adar, but at last the fighting stopped. Bodies lay strewn all over the ground. Were Bear and Ram and Digger and Nib among them? Reuben didn’t look to see. He didn’t want to know. He listened as Ezra took a quick tally, and although a few Jews had been wounded, none had been killed.

Reuben sank to the ground, still gripping his father’s sword. He wanted to weep, but whether from grief or relief he didn’t know. As the men cleared away the bodies, and the excitement died down, Rebbe Ezra came to crouch beside him. “Thank you, Reuben.”

“For what? Planning to rob you? For telling my gang about the gold you’re carrying and how to find it?” He exhaled, disgusted with himself.

“Why did you change your mind?” Ezra asked quietly.

“I don’t even know.” He stared at the ground, ashamed. He still wore the kippah on his head, a symbol of his submission to God. “I’ll be returning to Casiphia in the morning,” he said, “but I would like to keep my father’s sword, if that’s all right.”

“You’re going back to the Gentiles? Why?”

“I don’t belong here with men like you.”

“Reuben, you did the right thing tonight. You fought well. We could use a strong Levite guard like you.”

“I don’t think the others will agree with you, especially my uncle. Once they find out I was involved—”

“Let me worry about that. For now, not too many men really know what went on last night. And I’m willing to give you a second chance.”

Reuben couldn’t meet his gaze. “Why?” he asked softly. “I lied to you and tried to rob you.”

“Because the Almighty One is a God of second chances. None of us deserves to be forgiven and set free from exile. But He did forgive us and made a way for us to return and serve Him in Jerusalem. He’ll forgive you, too.”

Reuben could only shake his head, unable to comprehend such an offer after what he’d done.

“Would you like a new beginning, Reuben? A chance to start all over and make different choices this time? . . . I think you do, or you wouldn’t have warned us last night or fought alongside us.” Ezra stood and gripped Reuben’s shoulder for a moment. “For my sake, please reconsider. I don’t want you to turn back. Look at this night as the death of your past. Let tomorrow bring a new beginning.”

Reuben nodded, glad no one could see his tears in the dark.

J
ERUSALEM

F
our months after leaving Babylon, on the fourth day of the fifth month, Devorah stood on a rise overlooking Jerusalem for the first time. Ezra had pulled their donkey cart to a halt to gaze in awe at the view neither of them ever dreamed they would see. Tears blurred her vision as she silently praised the Holy One.

To anyone else, the sight would have been unremarkable—a cluster of stone houses and buildings, all built from creamy Jerusalem limestone. But to Devorah, who had sung about Jerusalem and read about it all her life, this was the city of her God. The holy temple stood on a hill in the distance, a column of smoke rising from the altar. The setting sun bathed the sanctuary in golden light as if it shone with God’s glory. Below the temple on another hill was Jerusalem, a mere remnant of the magnificent city of King Solomon’s day or of Judah’s last kings, but she and Ezra were here to help rebuild it.

Devorah reached to take her husband’s hand in hers. “It’s so beautiful here! The mountains are so lush and green.”

“‘As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds His people,’” Ezra recited. She saw him wipe his eyes
as their children gathered around them and knew this was an emotional moment for him, as well. “That’s the temple over there—do you see it?” he asked. “The Holy One’s temple. From now on, we can worship Him the way He commanded us to in His Torah. We’ll celebrate the sacrifices and new moons and festivals.”

“It’s too wonderful to even believe,” Devorah said. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“When can we see the temple up close, Abba?” his son Shallum asked.

“We’re probably too late for the evening sacrifice today. We have to set up camp first. And then wash and change our clothes, of course, before we can go up to worship.”

“When do Shallum and I get to be priests?” Judah asked. “And sacrifice animals?”

“Not for a few more years, I’m afraid. You have a lot of studying to do first. But I’m glad to know you’re so eager to begin.”

On that long-ago day when the twins skipped classes, Devorah couldn’t have imagined it would lead them here. “Being a priest isn’t a job to take lightly,” she said, ruffling Judah’s dark hair. “Priests stand between the Almighty One and His people as intercessors. Your lives must be exemplary, you know—and that includes obeying your parents as the fifth commandment says.”

Judah gave a weary sigh. “We know, Mama.”

She returned her gaze to the temple. “I can’t believe we’re really here.”

“I’ve seen dozens of temples to false gods in Babylon and Susa,” Ezra said, “but this one, humble as it is, puts all of them to shame. I never thought I would be privileged to see it and to worship the Holy One here in Jerusalem.”

“Let’s go, then,” Shallum said, tugging his father’s sleeve. “Everyone else is passing us by!”

Ezra smiled at his son’s enthusiasm and yanked on the donkey’s bridle to start him moving again. As the children ran on
ahead, he leaned closer to Devorah as if unwilling to be overheard. “I admit I’m overwhelmed by the task ahead of me. I hesitated when asked to lead our fellow Jews in Babylon—now God has given me the responsibility of leading the entire province of Judah.”

“But you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve always depended on the Almighty One, and He has never allowed you to stumble.”

“I’m under no illusions the people here will respond eagerly to my leadership. Enforcing the laws given in the Torah isn’t going to be an easy task. But I know from the writings of the prophets and from the history of our people that our future depends on our willingness to keep God’s covenant—and that means much more than merely attending the ritual sacrifices at the temple.”

Devorah could barely concentrate on her husband’s words as she gazed around, marveling at the view. Green hills rolled into the distance all around her with terraced vineyards hugging their rocky slopes. Groves of olive trees rustled their silvery leaves as if in greeting. But Ezra had chosen this moment to confide his thoughts and fears, and she leaned closer to listen. “Have you decided where to begin?” she asked.

“Not exactly. The job of teaching the people is going to be an enormous one. If Reuben is typical of other young men his age, then their knowledge of the Almighty One and His Torah is sketchy, at best.”

“I’m glad you convinced Reuben to come with us.”

“My decision to give him another chance is still meeting with opposition from some of his fellow Levites. He’ll have to prove himself, and that may take time.”

As they neared the city, a delegation of elders came out to greet Ezra, wanting to welcome their new governor and other leaders. He surrendered the reins of their cart to the twins, and Devorah continued on without him to their campsite in the Kidron Valley. The sun had set by the time they chose a
spot to set up their tent, and Devorah was hot and weary, the children whining and quarrelsome. She assigned chores and set about preparing dinner with her sister-in-law, Miriam, but tears filled her eyes again as the day’s accumulated emotions caught up with her. “What’s wrong?” Miriam asked when she saw Devorah wiping her cheeks.

“I don’t even know,” she said, laughing. “I’m overwhelmed and amazed to be here—and frightened at the thought of all the changes ahead. Where do we start?”

“I know what you mean.” Miriam sighed as she bent over the kneading trough to mix the dough for flatbread. “It would have been so much easier to simply stay in Babylon where we had nice homes and a good life and everything we needed. Now we’re camping in tents, cooking over piles of sticks, and starting life all over again. Our children are cranky and uneasy about all the changes, too, and I don’t blame them.”

“I’m sure things will get better in the days ahead.”

“Do you really believe that, Devorah? I mean, just look at all the work ahead of us. We’re unaccustomed to this rustic life.”

She sighed, wiping her eyes again. “To be honest, I’m too tired at the moment to face what’s ahead. But where would our people be if Abraham and Sarah hadn’t left their comfortable homes at God’s command? Or if we had remained in Egypt instead of leaving with Moses?”

“The Almighty One certainly likes shaking things up and forcing people to move.”

“Yes. And I admit, I’ve argued with Him about it in the past. I was furious when Jude died . . . and I nearly turned away from God in my grief.”

Miriam paused to lay her floury hand on Devorah’s arm. “Oh, Devorah! I’m so sorry. I never imagined—”

“Of course not. I went to great pains to hide how I felt. Then I struggled all over again when Ezra told me I was supposed to marry him, according to the law.”

“I admire you for being willing to do it. I don’t think I could have obeyed.”

“It was very difficult. But we went from being reluctant strangers to finding peace and contentment with each other—and love. I love Ezra, and I never thought it could happen.”

“And it’s obvious to everyone in the family he loves you, too.”

Devorah laughed again. “Our marriage isn’t perfect—he still bristles when I offer my advice on things before he asks. And he especially chafes when I tell him I think he’s wrong. But I wonder where I would be right now if I hadn’t trusted the Almighty One to know what was best for me? If I had continued to fight against His will?”

“Probably not here in Jerusalem, living in a tent by a stream and trying to cook a meal without a decent hearth.”

Devorah laughed. “No, probably not. But I’m glad I’m here, in spite of the hardships. And I know we can trust the Almighty One to bless us and our children and grandchildren because we obeyed Him.”

Ezra made sure the tent housing the treasury was secured with a team of guards in place before retiring to his own tent. The heavy weight of responsibility for transporting the Holy One’s gold and silver was nearly over.

At dawn, after bathing and changing into clean clothes, he and his family walked up to the temple for the morning sacrifice, joined by thousands of other pilgrims from the caravan. He watched in awe, moved beyond words, as the priests sacrificed a lamb for his sins, and for his peoples’ sins. Then one of the priests lifted a coal from the altar of sacrifice and carried it into the sanctuary where he would use it to light the incense. The altar of incense stood before the Almighty One’s throne room, the Holy of Holies, and the prayers of God’s people would ascend to heaven along with the incense. Ezra closed his eyes and
lifted his hands in prayer, asking for the strength and courage to lead and teach his people. Devorah was right; he could only undertake this enormous task with God’s help.

Afterward, he returned to his campsite with his family. It was the eve of the Sabbath, and everyone worked to prepare for the day of rest that would begin at sunset. That evening and throughout the next day, the entire caravan feasted and rejoiced, thanking the Almighty One for a safe trip and a new beginning. For Ezra, it was a Sabbath unlike any other he had ever celebrated. He was in the land promised to Abraham, settled by his ancestors, praising the Holy One in His temple. Ezra spent the day resting for God, knowing that in the days ahead, he would need to rest on God for all his needs.

When the Sabbath ended, Ezra assembled all the Levites, including Reuben, and they delivered the huge offering of silver and gold to the priests to be stored in the temple treasury. He felt the weight of responsibility lift from his shoulders at last, as if he had carried each bag of gold himself, every mile of the way. He felt content as he sat outside his tent after dinner that evening, writing in his journal and watching his sons play a game in the dirt with pebble-sized stones. Devorah sat across the small campfire from him, combing their youngest daughter’s hair.

The hand of our God was on us,
he wrote
, and He protected us from enemies and bandits along
the way. So we arrived in Jerusalem, where we rested
three days. On the fourth day, in the house of
our God, we weighed out the silver and gold and
the sacred articles into the hands of Meremoth son of
Uriah, the priest. . . . Everything was accounted for by number and
weight. . . .

He halted, looking up at Devorah so abruptly she asked, “What’s wrong? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What if I hadn’t listened to you, Devorah?”

“What do you mean? I hope you’re always listening to me,” she said, smiling. “I really hate being ignored, you know.”

“We weighed the gold and silver into the temple treasury today and every ounce of it made it here safely, thank God. But what if I hadn’t listened to you and shown mercy to Reuben? What if you hadn’t convinced me to apologize and give him another chance? That band of Babylonians could have easily overpowered our guards. Every one of those Levites standing guard that night would probably be dead. And who knows how much gold would have been stolen.” He watched her work for a moment, her beautiful hands braiding their daughter’s dark hair into a long plait. “Did I ever thank you, Devorah? If not—thank you.”

“I simply did my job as your wife—your helper.” She finished her task and pulled their daughter close, kissing the top of her head before releasing her. The tender gesture moved Ezra.

“And you do your job wonderfully well,” he told her. “The law is of utmost importance to me—I’m commissioned to vigorously defend it and teach it and enforce it. But I need you to continually remind me that although God is always just, He administers His justice with mercy and compassion. So, thank you.”

Devorah laughed. “You’re welcome.” She rose and kissed the top of Ezra’s head, too, before ducking into their tent. He closed his eyes, thanking God for the gift of his wife, even though she came to him through a time of great pain. Without her, he would’ve been a weaker leader.

As Judah’s new governor, Ezra knew his first priority was to ask the Almighty One to forgive His people. To wash everyone clean, so to speak, the way they had washed away the dust and sweat of their long, four-month journey. Only then could he set up his new government and rule according to the Torah. Using some of the donated gold and silver, Ezra organized a convocation at the temple for the returned exiles, sacrificing burnt offerings to the Holy One: twelve bulls for all Israel, ninety-six rams, and seventy-seven male lambs; then twelve male goats for a sin offering. “We have so much to be thankful for,” he told
his family. He would offer his own thank offering in addition to the others.

On the day of the convocation, Ezra invited Reuben to walk up to the temple mount with him and his family. Ezra had grown very fond of this young man over the past four months, and as he vigorously defended him against the other Levites’ mistrust, he’d begun to think of him as a son. But when they reached the top of the mount, Reuben would go no farther than the outer court. “Why not?’ Ezra asked. “You belong in the court of men with me and the others.”

Reuben shook his head. “I don’t deserve to worship with the other men. I’ve done so many things wrong in my life.”

“Go into the courts without me,” Ezra told his family while he remained behind with Reuben. “When are you going to stop punishing yourself?” he asked. “Don’t you believe God will forgive you if you ask?”