Elijah (36 page)

The crowd was immobile for a moment. Never had a prophet come from Abel-meholah. Then several men in front bowed to the ground, quickly followed by the others who stood behind them.

“By this honor,” Elisha asked, “do you renounce Baal?”

A murmur rant through the crowd. Some of them shouted yes, others were silent.

Elisha did not press the matter. “Now,” he said, “come and eat.” He picked up the knife and cut generous portions, handing a piece to each man as he came by. The women sat in chattering groups around the perimeter to wait for the men to finish eating.

After he had served the men, Elisha turned to the house. Shaphat stood in the doorway, his arm still around his wife. “And my father,” Elisha called. “Will my father eat a portion of the slain ox?”

For a moment Shaphat did not move. The crowd watched curiously. Then he made his way in slow steps toward Elisha. As he neared, his composure fell away and he broke into tears. He fell on his son’s shoulder. Deborah ran from the house toward them. The three embraced unashamed before the crowd.

Elisha kissed his mother and father on each cheek and pulled away. “I must go now to catch Elijah,” he said. He turned toward the crowd. “Even with tears of parting,” he shouted, “the feast is for joy. Joy should flood the hearts of all when Yahweh calls a servant. Eat well.” He turned to Shaphat. “Father, we would have wine.” Shaphat nodded and started for the house. “Be happy, my friends,” Elisha repeated, “for I am happy.” He put his arm around his mother and guided her to the door.

Inside, he packed nuts and parched corn into a foodpouch and filled a waterpouch. His father handed him a small bag of coins and went outside with three skins of wine.

Elisha kissed his mother again.

Shaphat was waiting near the roasting mean. “Elisha,” he asked, “will you cut me a piece before you go?”

The son smiled and went to the fire. He selected the best portion and cut from it a large serving.

Shaphat received it in both hands. He took a bite and chewed it slowly, then said to his son, “Elisha, I share in your new life. Go with Yahweh.”

“Thank you, father.” Elisha turned toward the road.

To the east the hills of Samaria rolled ever upward toward their crest at the ridge high above the Jordan Valley. To the west the dark gray alluvial soil of the rich Plain of Sharon dominated the slope to the Great Sea, accented by wide stretches of rich red soil and, along the shore, a spasmodic pattern of dune sand. Ahead, the Carmel range cut northwest toward the sea.

Dor lay on the coast fourteen miles south of Carmel, dominating the wide gray plain that lay between the sea and the mountain range. Both prophets carried their mantles across their shoulders—Elijah with his familiar one returned, Elisha with a newer one. After another ten miles the prophets left the Way of the Sea for the narrower Dor road. They arrived in the city late in the afternoon.

The elders watched the figures approach Dor’s main gate. “It looks like Elijah,” one of them said with surprise. Brows wrinkled as old eyes strained to see the men more clearly. “It is Elijah,” the speaker said with more certainty.

The prophets entered the gate and approached the seat of the elders. The old men scrambled toward them, bowing as they came. “Elijah, we are honored,” the chief elder welcomed. “What brings you to Dor?”

“If the prophet of Yahweh is honored, why then does Asherah’s shrine still stand outside the city?” Elijah demanded sternly. Elisha stood quietly, wishing fervently that he could speak.

The elders shook their heads, embarrassed. “We do not wish it to be there, Elijah,” one of them answered.

“Then why is it there?”

The chief elder approached the prophet until they stood face to face. His beard was a strange array of white, stringy patches, his head bald. He spoke in a hoarse, low voice. “We do not have the power we once had in Dor,” he advised. “The people follow other leaders.” He paused. “Would you speak to our people, Elijah?”

“I will speak. Gather them at six o’clock.” The prophet waved toward Elisha and the two of them turned into the city toward the traveler’s inn. The elders left in different directions to set the announcement in motion.

At evening, Elijah climbed the steps where the Baal prophet had stood several years before. A crowd already was gathered, having arrived early to gain better vantage points. He began to speak immediately.

“Men of Dor, how many of you were on Mount Carmel on the great day of God?” he called.

A multitude of hands joined the somber shouts in answer.

“You live on the plain,” Elijah continued. “Yahweh challenged the rain goddess and showed Baal to be without power even on the plain. And now, tell me truly, did Baal deal with you well while you worshiped at the pagan shrine?”

A low, uncertain murmur spread among the crowd. Some of them turned toward Abinadab, who stood in his accustomed place in his carriage behind them, preferring to watch the crowd as well as the speaker.

Elijah recognized the challenge immediately. Baal had dealt well with Abinadab. “Some of you have become slaves since Jezebel was made queen,” he shouted. “Yet still you dream of the promises of Asherah and Melkart. Has your chase been worthwhile? Do you still think that one day those gods will grant your wishes?” He pointed to Abinadab. “You are not slaves of that man, or of any other. You are slaves to your own minds. You are slaves to the wrong dreams.” He pointed again to Abinadab. “Your slavery,” he shouted, “came from your greed to be the kind of man he is.”

He stepped higher on the stairway so all the people, now a large crowd, could see him better. His hair-covered, mantle-draped, leather-girded body stood in sharp contrast to Abinadab’s well-groomed and immaculate figure opposite him.

“Why do you think Yahweh led you from Egypt?” Elijah demanded. “To lead you from one slavery to another? Why do you suppose Yahweh gave Israel new laws to live by? So that one man can cheat another? Have you not heard the laws of your fathers?” He stared at the crowd, pausing until the silence caught their attention more firmly. “Hear them!” he shouted. “Hear the laws of Yahweh! Did not Yahweh say through the mouth of our father Moses, ‘You shall not do as they do in Egypt where you once dwelt, nor shall you do as they do in the land of Canaan to which I am bringing you. You must keep my laws without fail, for you shall have life through them.’ ”
¹
The prophet drew a deep breath and leaned forward, as though to get closer to them. “My friends, the ways of greed of the Phoenician merchants are not the ways of God. Did Yahweh not tell us to leave unreaped the edges of our fields and not to glean the droppings nor strip the vineyards, to leave that food for the poor?”

Elijah noted with surprise the nodding heads and the nervous movements of the crowd. He wondered how the sacred law had been so openly broken, but he continued. “Hear the law of Yahweh. ‘You shall not steal. You shall not cheat or deceive a fellow countryman. You shall not oppress your neighbor, nor rob him. You shall not pervert justice. You shall love your neighbor as a man like yourself.’ ”
¹

The crowd stirred more uneasily. Haggard faces glanced with growing contempt toward Abinadab and the line of chariots and well-dressed men who listened beside their leader. Elijah noticed that the rich ones maintained their looks of disdain and amusement.

The prophet continued his recall of Yahweh’s laws, surprised that mere recitation of the simple commands aroused the crowd so easily. “‘When an alien settles in your land, you shall not oppress him. He shall be treated as a native born among you, and you shall love him as a man like yourself. You shall not pervert justice I the measurement of length, weight, or quantity.’”
²

The murmurs of the crowd ceased. The people listened engrossed as he told them the near-forgotten story of the Exodus, made new and real to him by his own pilgrimage. He described the agonies of Egypt, and the worse agonies of the wilderness; then he told of the joy when the people of God came into the Promised Land. Every man was to have his own plot of ground, his own house, his own life. He told of the frequent lapses into idolatry and decried the lure of the licentious baals. He recited the history of retribution, as Yahweh had shaped them like clay toward a proper form, a form never attained and now horribly misshaped.

It was when he talked of the land that the crowd became restless; each time, as a tooth that ached to be pressed, he came back to the laws of land and slavery, and the people whispered and stared. Both slave and free glanced cautiously but with hate toward the wealthy masters.

Elijah thought as he spoke,
How can a prophet teach both justice and compassion?
But he knew the answer. Men must learn compassion in those rare moments between angers.

He preached for nearly two hours, until the sun dropped away and the shadow of the wall made the crowd into one shapeless mass. His throat was hoarse and dry, even though he drank occasionally from his waterpouch. Abinadab had left, along with most of the wealthy onlookers, but nearly all of the common people remained.

When at last he started down the steps, the crown refused to disperse. Shammah elbowed his way toward the prophet. “Elijah, prophet of Yahweh,” he shouted so the crowd could hear his question. “We would hear more of God’s laws of servitude. When is a slave to be freed?”

“In the Year of Jubilee, or when he saves enough money to purchase his freedom,” the prophet answered.

“Jubilee has just passed. It now is more than forty years away.”

Elijah noticed the slave ring in Shammah’s ear. “Are you a slave because you were tricked by our master or because you were tricked by your own greed?”

The crowd shifted uneasily. Shammah dropped his head for a moment, then raised it again to meet Elijah’s eyes. “I chased after Baal,” he admitted, but he added, “Should a man be condemned so long for one mistake?”

“One mistake?” Elijah asked. “Was your idolatry one mistake?”

Shammah stood his ground, determined not to be cajoled into submission to his tragedy. “I have sinned,” he said, “But should Abinadab live like a king because of my sin? His sin is the greater!”

A man in the crowd shouted his approval of Shammah’s words. Other voiced immediately joined him. Elijah waited for the outburst to die away.

Baana made his way to his friend and caught his arm. “Shammah,” he whispered, “what are you doing? You could be lashed for this.” Shammah jerked his arm away without an answer.

“Yahweh will take vengeance on all who flout his laws,” Elijah said. “As for you, you played the game of Baal and lost. Had you won, you would be like your master. You brought your tragedy on yourself. You seek not to use Yahweh as you once sought to use Baal, to gain your own ends. Yahweh is not the cause of your misfortune.”

“But the rich have power to work the law in their favor,” a voice interrupted.

“Yahweh’s justice is a heavier burden than man’s folly,” Elijah answered. “If the rich have sinned, correct the matter as well as you can, but see that you do not sin the more.” Elijah motioned for Elisha to follow him. Voices called the prophet’s name as he edged through the crowd toward the traveler’s inn. He did not answer. The people pushed back to make room as he passed, but they did not disperse.

Shammah watched the two prophet companions move away. He felt a weakness build in his legs as the seriousness of his action flooded over him. Several friends inched toward him, pushing aside their fellows. Anonymous faces watched him silently, gauging their feelings toward his dangerous anger, fighting within themselves what their courses should be.