Keepers of the Covenant (39 page)

J
ERUSALEM

R
euben paced the hallway while he waited for Amina to come out. He thought he might be sick. He hadn’t known such fear since going into battle fifteen years ago. If only he could fight for Amina with arrows or a sword instead of waiting here helplessly. At least he might stand a chance of prevailing with a weapon. Would he have to live estranged from Amina at the end of the trial, or estranged from God? Amina said she wouldn’t let him disobey God—and Reuben knew God well enough by now to fear turning his back on Him. He had turned away from God the first time because He had allowed Abba to die. Did he trust Him enough to believe it wouldn’t happen again—that God wouldn’t take Amina away from him, too?

Lord, help us. Please help
us
.

At last the door opened and Amina and the men came out. “How did it go?” Reuben asked.

“Hard to tell,” Jacob said. “We did our best.”

Amina pulled free from Jacob and ran into Reuben’s arms. “I’m so sorry, Reuben . . . I should have listened to you . . . I never should have gone to the festival in Sayfah’s village.”

“It’s going to be all right, Amina,” he assured her, but his gut made a sickening turn at her words.

“They’re waiting for you,” Jacob told Reuben.

He squeezed her tightly, then released her again. “Don’t let her out of your sight,” he whispered to Jacob as he moved past him. “Please!”

Reuben stepped into the council chamber and faced the seated men, closing the door behind him. He saw Rebbe Ezra seated behind the others, and their gazes locked for a moment before the rebbe looked away. The jury foreman asked Reuben to take an oath before the Holy One to tell the truth, then Reuben remained standing before the men.

“We would like to ask you a few questions,” one of the men on the jury began. “Were you aware your wife was a Gentile Edomite before you married her?”

“Yes. She told me so herself. But she was Jewish in every possible way and—”

The man lifted his hand to cut him off. “Were you warned by anyone that you would be disobeying the Torah if you married a Gentile?”

“No. In fact, the two priests who just testified gave us their blessing. I’m sure they must have told you—”

“Yes, they did.” Again, the elder’s raised hand stopped Reuben. “Have you ever known your wife to worship other gods?”

“Never! Amina is a devout woman who worships only the Almighty One.”

“What about the pagan festival she attended with her sister?”

Reuben felt sick. So this is what Amina had meant. How had they found out about it? Reuben glanced at Ezra as anger and bitterness rose up inside him, and he thought he saw a warning look in the rebbe’s eyes. “What about that festival?” Reuben asked.

“Your wife told us she attended a pagan festival before you were married. Did you know about it?”

“Yes. I took her there myself and—” The moment he spoke, Reuben knew he had said the wrong thing. It would sound as though Amina had led him astray, enticing him to her village to worship idols—the very reason mixed marriages were forbidden. “Please, let me explain,” he begged. “The only reason Amina went there was because she loves her sister, and—” And her sister worshiped idols. Reuben was making a bad situation worse.

“Didn’t her eagerness to go back to her people serve as a warning to you that she may not worship God wholeheartedly? That she might be drawn to pagan ways?”

“No, because it wasn’t true. Amina wanted her sister to know about our God. That’s why she went to visit her. I hid in the village and watched the festival from a distance the entire time so I could protect Amina. I swear under oath right now that she didn’t participate in
any
way in that pagan festival.”

“What about you? Have you ever participated in pagan rites?”

Reuben opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped.

“Remember, you’ve sworn to tell the truth, Reuben.”

He swallowed a lump of bile. “When I lived in Casiphia, I attended some pagan festivals with my Babylonian friends. Not because I believed in their gods but for the pleasures they promised.” If the jury asked what he had done there, Reuben couldn’t have said. He used to drink until he passed out and often had no recollection of what he’d done the next day. “I committed those sins long before I met Amina. They have nothing to do with her. I’ve repented of my former life, and God has forgiven me. My wife and I worship Him alone.”

“But you admit you were drawn to foreign gods?”

“No! I was never drawn to them. From the time I was very young, my father taught me the confession of our faith, ‘Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.’ I attended the yeshiva and became a Son of the Commandments, and then my father was killed on the Thirteenth of Adar. I was attracted to the pagans’ immoral celebrations, not to their gods. . . . Why
are you even asking me about this? My past has nothing to do with Amina. That life left me feeling empty and alone. I would never go back to it. I’ve repented, and I’ve been assured that my past has been forgiven.”

“One more question: Did you swear an oath in the temple with the other men that you would divorce your Gentile wife?”

He felt tears stinging his eyes. “No. I couldn’t swear such a thing. I would rather lose my life than lose Amina.”

“If the committee decides you need to divorce your Gentile wife, do you understand the consequences if you fail to abide by their decision?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Thank you. You may go.”

J
ERUSALEM

E
zra’s heart ached as he watched Reuben leave the room, his steps brisk with anger, his shoulders hunched with defeat. The jury had finished questioning him and would now discuss his case before reaching their decision. As much as Ezra longed to ask the jury to show mercy, he couldn’t do it. But he could use the Torah to shed extra light on Reuben’s case as Devorah had advised him to do. She had shown him the precedents in this situation weeks ago, but he hadn’t listened. He rose from his seat as God began telling him what to say.

“Before you begin your deliberations, there is something I would like to add to this case,” he said, walking around to face the men. “Ever since my brother Jude died on the Thirteenth of Adar, I’ve harbored a deep hatred for Gentiles. I’ve denied it all these years, but after consulting God’s Word, I now understand that my hatred was greatly displeasing to God. I intend to repent and offer a sacrifice to ask for His forgiveness. Such hatred cannot remain in my heart, especially during these inquiries. It cannot remain because God doesn’t hate the Gentiles. And what I’m about to explain from the Torah will show that.” The men watched him eagerly as if surprised by his confession.

“This is our first case involving a Gentile who has completely abandoned her false gods to worship the Holy One. I’ve been searching the Torah for a precedent to see what God would say in this instance, but first I need to ask—is there anyone here who isn’t convinced this woman’s conversion is real?”

“It seemed genuine to me,” one man said.

“We heard sworn testimony from two well-respected priests and from her adoptive family,” another added.

“Does anyone believe Amina worships idols?” Ezra asked. “Even when she visited her sister’s village?”

The men all shook their heads.

“Good. Then I think the precedent for this case is the story of Ruth, who was a Gentile and also a Moabite. The Torah not only forbids intermarriage with Gentiles, it also says, ‘No Moabite or any of his descendants may enter the assembly of the Lord, even down to the tenth generation. For they did not come to meet you with bread and water when you came out of Egypt.’ Yet Boaz was allowed to marry Ruth, who was clearly both a Gentile and a Moabite. And nowhere in the Torah or the writings do we see any hint that the Almighty One considered their marriage wrong or that their descendant, King David, was a Gentile because of his Gentile ancestress. Was God making an exception for David? Looking the other way? God said, ‘No Moabite or any of his descendants may enter the assembly of the Lord,’ yet David and his heir, Solomon, built the temple and worshiped in the assembly of God’s people. God even made an everlasting covenant with David’s family, promising that the Messiah would come through him.”

Ezra paused to look around at his audience and saw the men following his line of reasoning with interest. “We know God is just and doesn’t bend or change His laws. Therefore, the only way I can reconcile the Torah’s two clear laws with David’s history is by concluding that God did not consider Ruth a Gentile or a Moabite. We have the written record of her confession
of faith: ‘Your people will be my people and your God my God.’ She faced a difficult decision—to stay with her people and worship their gods, or turn her back on them and follow her mother-in-law, Naomi. Ruth chose the Jewish people and our God. She demonstrated her trust in Him by walking away from a secure future with her own people to join a helpless, impoverished widow with no hope or future, clearly trusting the Almighty One’s promises for provision. The important thing is that God considered her conversion to the Jewish faith genuine. From the moment she confessed her faith and then acted on it, Ruth was no longer a Moabite. Therefore, her children weren’t considered Gentiles under the Moabite curse.”

“That makes sense,” the foreman said.

“God’s Word confirms His acceptance of Gentile believers in another case,” Ezra continued. “In the scroll of Joshua we have the story of another woman’s conversion, a Canaanite woman from Jericho named Rahab who lived before Ruth. She is also an ancestress of King David. We see the same sequence of events in Rahab’s story. She confessed her faith to the Israelite spies when she said, ‘the Lord your God is God in heaven above and on earth below.’ She demonstrated that faith against tremendous odds and at great risk to her own life by first hiding the spies, and then by tying the scarlet cord in her window. Our ancestors had demonstrated the same faith when they put the blood of the lamb on their doorposts at Passover. Rahab chose to leave her people and follow God, placing all her trust in Him. And her faith led to her salvation. After her conversion, she married an Israelite, who was Boaz’s father, in fact. Again, there is no indication at all in God’s Word that this was a mixed marriage or that their children weren’t considered Jewish.”

Ezra paused as he tried to read their faces. Was there agreement—or had hatred of the Gentiles infected some of them as much as it had infected him? “We see the same pattern in both cases,” he continued after a moment. “These women forsook
their pagan gods and their own people. They confessed—then demonstrated—their faith in the Almighty One
before
they were married. Neither Rahab nor Ruth converted in order to marry a man they loved. From the moment they turned to God, they were no longer considered Gentiles in the Almighty One’s eyes, but true Jews. The amazing truth is that someday the long-awaited Messiah will come through two Gentile women who put their trust in the God of Abraham.” He paused to look at each of the men on the jury before saying, “It is my opinion that Amina’s conversion to our faith clearly follows this pattern. She is not a Gentile but a Jew by faith.”

Ezra felt as if he’d done a full day of hard labor as he returned to his seat. He listened as the other men deliberated, relieved when they decided that Reuben’s marriage clearly followed the biblical precedent. “This woman is considered a Jew,” the foreman decided. “The marriage stands. Call them in, please.”

Ezra stood. “May I tell them?” he asked. He could see how shaken Reuben and Amina were as they entered, their faces drawn and pale with worry. Ezra smiled as he tried to put them at ease. “Amina, the Almighty One rewards your faith and trust in Him. In God’s eyes and in ours, you are a true daughter of Abraham by faith. Therefore, yours is not a mixed marriage between Jew and Gentile and does not need to be dissolved. May the Almighty One bless you both.”

They fell into each other’s arms, weeping.

J
ERUSALEM

A
mina leaned on Reuben’s arm as she limped up the steps to the temple mount. People from Jerusalem and all the nearby villages were walking up to the temple’s outer courtyard today to celebrate the Thirteenth of Adar. The joy Amina felt on this warm spring day matched the festive atmosphere all around her as men and women of all ages came to hear the story of Queen Esther. There would be parties and celebrations afterward, with feasting and gift exchanges and food for the poor.

“I didn’t realize there would be so many people,” she told Reuben.

“Me either. I know they used to celebrate this day in Casiphia, but I never went. Back then, I didn’t want to remember the events of this day.”

“I always stayed home while Hodaya and the others celebrated,” Amina said. “I was so ashamed of what my father and the other people in my village plotted to do.” But now the jury had declared her a daughter of Abraham, and Amina finally belonged. From now on, the Thirteenth of Adar would be the day her old life ended and her new life began.

They chose a place to sit in the sunny courtyard after stopping to greet dozens of people—Amina’s friends from the House of the Weavers, Rebbe Ezra’s wife and family, Reuben’s Levite friends, and his uncle Hashabiah. When it was time to begin, the excited crowd hushed as Governor Ezra climbed onto a raised platform with a scroll in his hand. He was such a distinguished-looking man with his white beard and hair, yet he seemed so humble, an unlikely leader with none of the swagger or ego found in most men of power. Amina would never forget how happy he’d looked as he’d announced the jury’s decision: “You are a true daughter of Abraham by faith. Therefore, yours is not a mixed marriage . . . and does not need to be dissolved.”

Now he wore a faint smile on his face as he addressed the people. “This is the story of God’s miracle of salvation,” he said. “We will share it with our children and grandchildren each year for generations to come. We call today’s holiday
Purim
because of the lots our enemy cast to decide which day to destroy us. But the Almighty One had a different plan. As the proverb says, ‘The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord.’”

Amina sat back to listen as he unrolled the scroll and began to read. The story described the grand banquet King Xerxes held for all of his royal officials, and told how he called for his queen to attend. Amina was shocked when the queen refused his request. How dare she refuse to come before the king? Xerxes was so enraged he took away her crown, and then held a beauty contest throughout the empire to find a beautiful, worthy wife to replace her.

“I’ve never heard this story before,” Amina whispered to Reuben. “Have you?” He shook his head.

Governor Ezra unrolled more of the scroll as he continued to read. “‘Now there was in the citadel of Susa a Jew of the tribe of Benjamin named Mordecai who had been carried into exile from Jerusalem. Mordecai had a cousin named Esther who was
lovely in form and features, and he had taken her as his own daughter when her father and mother died.’”

Amina listened in amazement. This heroine who saved the lives of the Jewish people was an orphan, like her. The Holy One had been faithful to both of them, making sure a loving family adopted them. “If only we could see the end from the beginning,” Amina whispered to Reuben. “If only we had eyes to see how God can weave all the broken strands of our life into something beautiful.” On the tragic day when Amina lost both her parents, she never could have imagined that she would end up here, a daughter of the Holy One, with a wonderful husband by her side, and his child fluttering inside her as if it wore butterfly wings.

“‘When the king’s order and edict had been proclaimed,’” Ezra read in his calm, eloquent voice, “‘many girls were brought to the citadel of Susa. And Esther was also taken to the king’s palace.’”

“How terrible!” Amina whispered. “I can’t imagine being taken from my home against my will to become part of the king’s harem.” She wondered what might have become of her if Uncle Abdel had forced her to go home with him. By God’s grace, Amina had gone from an abusive home to a loving one, while poor Esther had been locked away from all the people she loved for the rest of her life. Esther surely must have thought God had abandoned her. She couldn’t have known His plan and purpose for her life—a plan like the one taking shape so beautifully in Reuben and Amina’s lives.

“‘Esther was taken to King Xerxes in the royal residence in the tenth month in the seventh year of his reign. . . . Now the king was attracted to Esther more than to any of the other women, and she won his favor and approval. So he set a royal crown on her head and made her queen.’”

If this had been the end of the story, it would have been a wonderful one—an orphan who won the king’s love and became
queen of the entire empire. But there was more to Esther’s story, and Amina leaned against her husband to hear the rest.

Reuben listened with interest as Rebbe Ezra read how their enemy Haman came to power in King Xerxes’ court. Each time the rebbe said Haman’s name, the children in the audience booed and hissed and made noise to try to drown it out. It was amusing—and yet it wasn’t. Why had the Almighty One allowed evil to triumph, even for a short time? Reuben thought of his father, as he always did on this day.
“It’s the highest form of praise
,”
Abba had said,
“to keep believing that God is
good even when it doesn’t seem that way.”

“‘When Haman saw that Mordecai the Jew would not kneel down or pay him honor, he was enraged,’” Rebbe Ezra read. “‘Yet having learned who Mordecai’s people were, he scorned the idea of killing only Mordecai. Instead, Haman looked for a way to destroy all Mordecai’s people, the Jews, throughout the whole kingdom.’”

Rebbe Ezra read the king’s edict next, and Reuben closed his eyes as he remembered the day he’d stood beside his father in the house of assembly in Casiphia and heard it read for the first time:
“Destroy, kill, and annihilate all the
Jews—young and old, women and little children—on a
single day, the thirteenth of Adar.”
Everyone who’d heard the decree had been stunned. Reuben had been just a boy, twelve years old, yet he’d been sentenced to die in a less than one year’s time. He remembered battling tears as he’d worked in the smithy with Abba, watching time trickle away. He hadn’t wanted to die, but there seemed no way out. “Why don’t we blend in with the Babylonians,” he’d asked his father, “and go to their temples and festivals so they won’t know we’re Jews?”

“If we
deny God, our lives aren’t worth living,”
Abba had replied.

The truth of Abba’s words was now very real to Reuben. When he’d turned his back on his Jewish community and had tried to blend in with his Babylonian friends in Casiphia, he had ended up feeling empty and alone. And his life would still be meaningless if the Holy One hadn’t found him and drawn him back and given him direction and a purpose. God loved him even more than his own father had. What an astounding thought! For that reason alone, Reuben wanted to worship the Holy One for as long as he lived.

Amina was a gift from God, and so was the child she carried. Reuben vowed to be the kind of father Abba had been—fearless and brave, trusting in the Almighty One no matter how hopeless things appeared. Reuben knew the inheritance he had as a Jew and as a Levite was more valuable and enduring than Abba’s blacksmith shop and all his tools—an inheritance no one could ever take away from him and his sons.

Devorah thought her heart would burst with love and pride as she listened to her husband read the scroll of Esther to the gathered crowd. Yet along with her happiness she remembered the devastating grief she’d felt as her beloved husband Jude had died in her arms. That grief had nearly consumed her. But God in His mercy had provided a way for Jude’s memory and heritage to live on through her son Judah. He was seated beside her today, and she reached to ruffle his dark hair, grateful to God for him and for the marriage the Almighty One had arranged.

As she listened to Ezra read, it occurred to her that Queen Esther also faced a loveless, arranged marriage to King Xerxes, a marriage that had fulfilled God’s purpose in the end. Devorah knew she never would have chosen to marry Ezra on her own. Nothing about the quiet, scholarly man had appealed to her at first, except that he could provide a son to carry on Jude’s
name. But God had clearly chosen them for each other, and His choice had proven to be a blessed one.

“‘Mordecai sent Esther a copy of the edict,’” Ezra continued to read, “‘that called for their annihilation. And he urged her to go into the king’s presence to beg for mercy and plead with him for her people. Esther sent back this reply: “Any man or woman who approaches the king without being summoned will be put to death. The only exception is for the king to extend his gold scepter and spare his life. Besides, thirty days have passed since I was called to go to the king.”’”

Devorah imagined how terrified Esther must have felt. How could Mordecai expect her to leave the safety and seclusion of the harem and enter the official throne room unbidden? It was as unthinkable for Esther to approach the king without being summoned as it was for his first queen to refuse his summons.

Ezra Read Mordecai’s blunt reply: “‘Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?’”

Devorah remembered her astonishment when she’d first learned a Jewish woman had saved her people. Their deliverance was even more amazing than the victory won by Devorah’s namesake against the Canaanites. How amazing that God used women of faith, just as He used men of faith! She listened as Ezra read Queen Esther’s courageous reply: “‘I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish.’” Devorah wondered if she would have had Esther’s courage.

The story built in suspense as the queen prepared to beg King Xerxes to save her people. Devorah watched her children’s faces as they listened to their father read the story. Her two daughters by Jude were both married and expecting
children of their own. Her twins, Judah and Shallum, so alike in looks and temperament, were studying to become priests like their ancestors. And her three youngest daughters, born to her and Ezra after the twins, would grow up in Jerusalem and probably never remember their life in Babylon. Devorah’s greatest wish for all her children was that they would become men and women of faith like Esther and Mordecai. Like their father.

“‘Esther pleaded with the king,’” Ezra read, “‘falling at his feet and weeping. She begged him to put an end to the evil plan of Haman, which he had devised against the Jews. “For how can I bear to see disaster fall on my people? How can I bear to see the destruction of my family?” King Xerxes replied to Queen Esther and to Mordecai the Jew, “Now write another decree in the king’s name on behalf of the Jews and seal it with the king’s signet ring—for no document written in the king’s name and sealed with his ring can be revoked.”’”

Devorah remembered the day her community received word her people could defend themselves against their enemies on the Thirteenth of Adar. Jude had been relieved and eager to fight. Devorah often described his bravery to her children, and also told them of Ezra’s courage as he’d led their people in prayer and into battle. She was proud of both men.

The story came to a triumphant end: “‘The Jews struck down all their enemies with the sword, killing and destroying them, and they did what they pleased to those who hated them. But they did not lay their hands on the plunder. Mordecai recorded these events, and he sent letters to all the Jews throughout the provinces of King Xerxes, near and far, to have them celebrate annually the fourteenth and fifteenth days of the month of Adar as the time when the Jews got relief from their enemies, and as the month when their sorrow was turned into joy and their mourning into a day of celebration.’”