Among the Gods (2 page)
You have abandoned your people,
the house of Jacob.
They are full of superstitions from the East….
They bow down to the work of their hands….
Go into the rocks, hide in the ground
from dread of the Lord and
the splendor of his majesty!
I
SAIAH
2: 6, 8, 10
W
ANING CANDLELIGHT BATHED
the family dinner table with a sleepy glow as the Passover meal drew to a close. But Joshua shifted restlessly in his seat as he listened to the familiar story of deliverance. This was the first Passover that his community of exiles had celebrated since escaping from Jerusalem a year ago, and the festive meal stirred unwelcome memories.
“‘Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,’” Joshua’s older brother Jerimoth recited, “‘his love endures forever…. In my anguish I cried to the Lord, and he answered by setting me free.’”
Joshua didn’t feel free. He would never feel free until his enemy, King Manasseh, was dead. He swallowed a sip of his wine and said, “I wonder if Manasseh is celebrating Passover tonight in Jerusalem.” Jerimoth turned to him in surprise, as if the king’s name had been a bucket of cold water dashed across their festive table.
“What difference does it make, Joshua? I thank God for the privilege of celebrating with my family for the first time in our new home.” Jerimoth spread his arms wide as if to embrace all the family members and friends gathered around the table. He had worked hard to turn the musty, mud-brick dwelling on Elephantine Island into a comfortable home for his wife and children; he and Joshua had built a compound of adjoining mud-brick houses with a common courtyard for their extended family. Their sister Tirza lived in one of the houses with her husband, Joel, the high priest. Joshua shared a third house with his mother, Jerusha, and his sister Dinah. Joshua loved his sister, but every time he looked at Dinah he was reminded of Manasseh and how he had held her captive, made her his concubine, then sacrificed her son to Molech.
The servant girl, Miriam, and her brother Nathan also shared Joshua’s home. Miriam did more than her share of the work, but her presence was another irritant to Joshua, a daily reminder of how his stupid mistakes had caused the death of Maki, Miriam’s father.
“Am I the only one who sees how insane all this is?” Joshua asked. “We’re thanking God for delivering us from the Egyptians while living in the heart of Egypt!” He looked to the others gathered around the low table for confirmation, but they returned his gaze with embarrassed silence. “I don’t mean to spoil your fun, but we’ve been stuck here for a year already. I guess I’m getting a little tired of waiting for God to act.”
He sat back in his seat again, resting his chin on his hand, covering his scarred face with his fingers. He was self-conscious about his disfigurement; the wide, jagged scar stretched down the right side of his face from above his eyebrow to his jaw, leaving him with only a ragged beard on that side. Every now and then, he would touch the leather patch to reassure himself that it was still in place over his ravaged eye. Prince Amariah said the wound made him look older, battle-hardened, tough. Joshua was the community’s hero, and the young soldiers-in-training stood in awe of him, even though he was only a few years older than they were. They had chosen the ox—Joshua’s nickname—as the island regiment’s symbol, decorating their banners and shields with it.
“I apologize to my esteemed guests for my brother’s behavior,” Jerimoth said with a tight smile. “Please, allow me to refill your cup, Your Majesty.”
Joshua’s impatience soared as Prince Amariah held out his own cup to Jerimoth instead of demanding to be served. Even though the priests had anointed Amariah as their king and the rightful heir to King David’s throne, he lacked the assertive bearing and authority of a true king. Joshua knew that he, not the prince, was the island’s true leader in every respect.
Jerimoth turned to his other guest. “Would you like some more wine, Colonel Hadad?”
“It’s excellent—but no thanks,” Hadad replied. He was yet another reminder to Joshua of all that he had lost. Hadad’s grandfather, Shebna, had served with Joshua’s father as the king’s top two officials until King Manasseh had begun his bloody purge. Because of Hadad’s extensive military training in Jerusalem, he had been given command of the garrison with the rank of colonel. He had abandoned strong drink after their escape and had worked hard for the past year to turn the Levites’ scholarly sons into an active fighting force, skilled with spear, bow, and sword.
As Joshua watched, Hadad wiped the palms of his hands on his thighs for what seemed like the hundredth time. Why was he acting so nervous tonight? He’d been a frequent guest at their family’s table, so it couldn’t be shyness. Joshua noticed that Hadad had scarcely touched his meal. “Is something the matter with your food?” he asked.
“No, nothing. I’ve eaten my fill, that’s all.” Hadad turned to Jerimoth, their host, and a smile spread across his handsome face. “I want to thank you again for inviting me tonight. I’ve never known what it is to be part of a large family, having lived alone with my grandfather most of my life.”
“You’re always welcome in our home, Hadad, you know that. And now, if you know the words, please sing the closing hymn with us.”
Joshua didn’t join in with the others as they sang. Instead he watched Hadad carefully, certain that he had something on his mind. Jerimoth ended the Passover celebration with a prayer, and the women left the room to clean up the kitchen and put the sleepy children to bed. Hadad rose to his feet.
“There’s something I’d like to say,” he began, confirming Joshua’s suspicions. All the men turned to Hadad as he expelled the air from his lungs with an uneasy laugh. “Phew! This is worse than going into battle. My stomach feels like I’m back on board the ship that brought us here.”
“You’re among friends,” Jerimoth assured him. “Please, tell us what’s on your mind.”
Hadad nodded, grinning nervously. “What I want to say is that my life really began a year ago at Passover. Before then I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted to do with my life. But ever since our escape from Jerusalem I’ve finally found meaning and purpose here in Egypt. I enjoy my work at the garrison. Military command suits me, and I think I’ve finally earned a good name for myself. Now I lack only one thing to make my life complete.” His voice grew hushed. “To marry the woman I love. Jerimoth, I’m asking you, as head of this family, for your sister Dinah’s hand in marriage.”
Hadad’s request was so unexpected that it took Joshua a moment to digest it. Hadad couldn’t be serious! Surely everyone knew why such a marriage was impossible. But before Joshua could react, Jerimoth’s face split into a wide grin as if he was about to accept Hadad’s proposal. “My dear friend Hadad, I’d be honored to—”
“Jerimoth, stop!” Joshua sprang to his feet, cutting off his brother’s words. “You can’t let him marry Dinah!”
“Joshua, if this is a joke—”
“It’s not a joke,” he told his brother. “I assumed you knew. I assumed all of you knew…. Dinah has to marry Prince Amariah.”
“What?” Hadad looked as though Joshua had punched him in the stomach. “What are you talking about?”
“Dinah was once part of King Manasseh’s harem,” Joshua explained. “She bore his son. Now she belongs to the House of David. Anyone who marries her will be challenging Manasseh’s right to rule and officially claiming the throne of Judah. She has to marry Prince Amariah.”
Hadad’s hands knotted into fists. “She isn’t a piece of property that gets passed from one man to the next! You can’t force Dinah to marry him!”
Joshua took an aggressive stance to match Hadad’s. “It’s not up to you or me to decide. It’s written in God’s Law.”
“Just a minute,” Prince Amariah said, rising from his seat. “Don’t I have any say in this?”
“No. You don’t,” Joshua told him. “God is the one who put royal blood in your veins. This is His plan for revenge. The only choice you have is whether you’re going to fight for your father’s throne or let Manasseh have it.”
“I’m not certain I have a right to my father’s throne,” Amariah said. “Manasseh is the firstborn and—”
“Manasseh forfeited his right when he committed idolatry,” Joshua retorted. “He sacrificed his
own son
! If your father were alive, who do you think he would choose as his successor? You or your brother?”
“I-I see your point.” Amariah shrank back, as if fearful of Joshua’s anger.
Hadad grabbed the prince’s arms. “Amariah, no! Don’t listen to him. You’re my friend! You know Dinah cares for me, not you. Ask her! Bring her in here and ask her who she wants to marry.”
“What she wants doesn’t matter,” Joshua said.
“It certainly does matter!” Jerimoth told him. “Abba never would have forced Dinah to marry against her will, and neither will we! Of course we’ll ask her.” He rose and hurried from the room, returning a few minutes later with Dinah in tow. She looked uneasy as she entered the room full of arguing men. Then Joshua saw her expression soften as she looked up at Hadad. Joshua hadn’t realized that their feelings for each other had grown since Hadad had helped Dinah escape from Jerusalem a year ago. He should have paid closer attention.
“Dinah, please,” Hadad begged. “Tell Joshua how we feel about each other. He’s trying to prevent us from being married.”
Joshua interrupted before she could reply. He couldn’t let her spoil God’s flawless plan. “I can see that you have feelings for him, Dinah, but your responsibilities to God and to our family must come first.”
“I … I don’t understand.”
He took a step toward her, barely able to control his voice as his anger welled up along with his memories. “Do you remember the night Manasseh’s men killed our grandfather in cold blood? Do you remember how helpless you felt because you couldn’t fight back? You had to watch them beat a gentle, defenseless old man to death, and you couldn’t help him!”
Dinah’s hands went to her face. “I’m sorry … I couldn’t …”
“Joshua, stop this!” Jerimoth said.
“No, I won’t stop. None of us has spoken to her about Manasseh for almost a year, but our silence doesn’t erase what he did. Dinah needs to remember it—all of it—before she decides who she wants to marry.” Joshua gripped her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face, forcing her to look at him.
“Manasseh murdered our father, too. Abba did nothing wrong, nothing to deserve execution, but Manasseh lashed his back open with a bone-tipped whip, then pummeled him beyond recognition with his stones.”
“Stop … !”
Jerimoth begged. He had witnessed their father’s torture, and Joshua knew it was cruel to remind him of it, yet he continued just the same.
“Manasseh raped you, Dinah. He held you captive for a year, and he raped you—how many times? Then he took your newborn son away from you, and he—”
“Enough, Joshua! That’s enough!” Jerimoth shouted. “I won’t allow this in my house!” His face was white as he pushed Joshua aside and gathered Dinah into his arms. “What are you doing to her? To all of us?”
“I’m reminding her of the facts. If Dinah wants to let Manasseh get away with murder and rape, then she can go ahead and marry Hadad. But if she wants to avenge her son’s death—and our father’s death and Grandpa’s death—then she can fight back by marrying Amariah.”
“No,” Hadad moaned. “No, don’t listen to him, Dinah.”
“Look, we all want to fight Manasseh,” Jerimoth said. “That’s why we’re here in Egypt. But we’ll fight him by preserving our faith and our heritage. For now, that’s all Yahweh has asked us to do. Revenge is God’s to repay, not ours.”
“And Dinah is God’s instrument of revenge,” Joshua said, “whether she likes it or not. Why do you think He allowed her to be rescued?”
“But I helped rescue her, remember?” Hadad asked. “She loves me. Tell him, Dinah. Tell him what you already told me.”
Joshua watched, ready to intervene, as Dinah turned to Hadad again. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never should have promised you…. Joshua’s right. I can’t marry you.”
“No …” Hadad shook his head in stunned disbelief. “No … please don’t do this, Dinah.”
“I do love you,” she told him as her tears fell. “But I hate Manasseh even more. He killed my son. I need to marry Prince Amariah.”
Hadad closed his eyes. Joshua watched him warily, afraid of what he might do. When Hadad was able to speak again, he faced Joshua, his voice trembling with rage. “I’ll kill you for this, Joshua! As God is my witness, you’ll pay for what you’ve done!” He stormed from the house, letting the door slam behind him like an explosion.
Miriam felt the shock waves in the kitchen as Hadad left the house, slamming the door. She had never celebrated the Feast of Passover before and had looked forward to it for weeks. Now the night had ended in ruin. She and the other women had heard every word of the argument, and as soon as Hadad left, Jerusha had taken Dinah to another room to calm her. Miriam knew that Dinah loved Hadad, not the prince, and she hoped Jerusha would talk some sense into her daughter.
Miriam wished she could flee to another room, too, and escape from the men’s angry shouts, but she had work to do. She drew a calming breath, then entered the main room to finish clearing the table. She hoped that the argument would end now that Hadad was gone, but Joshua’s face was still filled with anger. He stood poised as if for a fight as Jerimoth continued to plead with him.
“Joshua, don’t force Dinah and Amariah to marry. It’s wrong.”
