On This Foundation (20 page)

Nehemiah knew the danger of what he had just done. But he would admit to no one, not even his aides or his brothers, that he was afraid. In Persia he'd kept careful watch over the king's safety—never his own. Whenever he drank from King Artaxerxes' cup or tasted his food, Nehemiah always knew that it might be poisoned, that he might die protecting the king. The need for constant vigilance had been nerve-wracking, at times. But now it was his life that might be threatened. The hatred he felt toward these three enemies was mutual. If they plotted to kill him, Nehemiah wondered if the work would proceed or if the people would be too fearful to continue.

“This visit won't be the end of their attempts to stop us,” he told Jehohanan. “It's just the beginning. They won't give up until we stop building, and I have no intention of doing that.”

Ephraim and Hanani caught up with him a few minutes later. “That was a masterful performance,” Ephraim said. “You didn't back down one inch.”

“It ended in a standoff,” Nehemiah said. “They aren't going to back down, either.”

“What's next?” Hanani asked. “What would you like us to do?”

Nehemiah halted in the hallway of their residence, very aware that from a safety standpoint, their home was not at all secure. “We need to pray—continually—that the Almighty One will help us. And that He will turn our enemies' insults back on their own heads.”

“We are praying, Nehemiah. Morning and evening.”

“Good. And we're probably going to need weapons. Look into that for me, Hanani. There may come a time when we'll need them. In the meantime, we'll need to remain alert day and night. Now let's get back to work. I've wasted enough time with these men.”

J
ERUSALEM

C
hana watched as the builders stretched a taut level line across the top of the stones to make sure the new construction was straight and level. “Using a plumb line is exactly the kind of precision work that I can do,” she told her father. “And I know I can do it much better than your clumsy laborers can.” Sorting stones had been interesting at first, but now Chana wanted a new challenge. She hounded Abba every chance she got, trailing behind him at the worksite with the cord in her hand and a clay weight dangling from it. “Just let me try it, Abba. I know I can do it.”

When he finally gave in, he stood at the bottom of the scaffolding while Chana climbed up for the first time, prepared to catch her if she fell. The structure was shaky and the climb precarious, but she hid her unease as she made her way to the top. The wall perched on top of such a steep slope that the height made her dizzy, but she got the hang of the job in no time. By the end of the week, Abba realized what a good eye she had and stopped objecting as she climbed up and down the scaffolding and crawled around on top of the six-foot-wide wall to make sure the builders kept it straight and true. She loved standing
on a level row of freshly laid blocks to gaze out at the view of the Mishneh and the Judean hills beyond.

Her sister Yudit was also adept at climbing up and down the scaffolding, proving to be an expert at choosing just the right stone to jam into the crevices between the larger ones to create a snug fit. The job that Sarah loved best was surveying the largest building blocks and finding ones that weren't too badly burned or crumbling, then showing the workers which edges needed to be chiseled off to make the stones fit tightly together. Chana now heard the constant sound of chipping and chiseling and grinding and pounding even in her sleep. And she slept better every night than she had in more than a year.

This morning Chana was halfway up the ladder of scaffolding with a plumb line in her hand when she heard shouting behind her. “Whoa! Whoa! Stop! Where are you going? Get down from there!”

She turned to see Governor Nehemiah standing below her and quickly made sure her skirt was modest. “Are you talking to me?” she asked.

“Of course I am! What do you think you're doing up there?”

“I'm checking this course of stones to make sure they're plumb.”

“No, no, no! Get down from there and leave this area immediately! And you—you both need to leave, too!” he said, spotting Yudit and Sarah.

“Why?” Chana asked.

“Why!” Nehemiah was almost too outraged to speak. Chana didn't move from where she stood on the ladder. “Because this is dangerous work! Women don't belong anywhere near here!”

“We're very familiar with the dangers. We've been working here since the first day.”

“Who's your site leader?” he asked, glancing all around.

“Our father, Shallum ben Hallohesh. I heard you say in your speech, Governor, that each section leader is responsible for
choosing his own volunteers, and our father chose us. We have his permission to be here.”

“Where is Shallum? I need to speak with him. And in the meantime,
get
down
from there!” Chana still didn't move. Nehemiah looked strong enough and angry enough to scoop her up in his brawny arms and carry her home once she did.

“Abba went to talk to Ephraim ben Hacaliah about getting more timber,” Sarah told him. She looked suitably frightened of Nehemiah and so did Yudit, who had stopped gathering stones and had come to stand near the foot of the scaffolding.

“Somebody go find him,” Nehemiah commanded. “Tell him I need to speak with him immediately. And the three of you—go home!” He planted his hand on Sarah's shoulder and gave her a little push. Chana scrambled down the ladder.

“Don't tell us what to do, Governor. This is our city, too. Our inheritance.”

“I cannot allow this. What will people say when they come through the Valley Gate or visit me at my headquarters and see
women
working? I'm ordering you to go home where you belong.”

“I don't suppose you know the story of Zelophehad's daughters?” Chana asked, hands on her hips. “It's in the Torah. The Almighty One said that daughters have a right to their father's inheritance if he has no sons.”

“What are you talking about? You're not even making sense!” He stood as if bracing for a fistfight. Chana wrapped her arm around the leg of the scaffolding, certain that he would throw her over his shoulder any minute and carry her home. Yudit and Sarah—the cowards—slowly inched away from him, heading down the slope toward the gate.

“Why are you defying me, defying convention, and . . . and common sense? Is it sheer, muleheaded stubbornness or what? Why won't you leave like any normal woman would, and go home?”

His insults infuriated her, making her words spill out. “I was betrothed to a man, Yitzhak ben Rephaiah—”

“I know the story. He was murdered.”

“Well, you obviously have no idea what it's like to lose someone you love. Or what it's like to know that if only there had been better protection—”

“You're wrong. I do know both of those things.”

“Then you should also know how hard it is not to be angry with God. How impossible it is, at times, to continue to believe in His goodness.” Chana knew she was spilling thoughts that she'd never shared with anyone, thoughts that she should keep to herself, but once she'd opened a tiny window to her heart, she couldn't stop. “I go to the temple and worship Him because it's expected of me, and sometimes I succeed in believing in a loving God, but just as often, I don't. This morning we sang the words, ‘His love endures forever.' And I couldn't see it. There is so much rage still seething inside me that I could murder Yitzhak's killers with my own two hands and set their houses ablaze with their families and little ones inside. And I know that my hatred isn't pleasing to God and has no place in my heart when I stand in His house of worship. But what can I do with it? Where can it go?”

Nehemiah didn't reply. He stared at her as if stunned by her outburst. Chana unwound her arm from the scaffolding and took a step toward him. “The men who killed Yitzhak were never found, never brought to justice. And so I'm pouring all of my rage into building this wall. I know it won't bring Yitzhak back, but it might keep another killer out. It might spare another woman the grief of losing someone she loves.”

He was quiet for a long moment before saying, “Even so, I can't allow it. You're a woman.”

“Thank you for noticing. But you can't stop me.”

They stood toe-to-toe, neither one of them backing down. She had to look up to see him, the top of her head level with
his chin. All of the workers watched and listened. Nehemiah was the governor and she a mere woman—reasons enough for her to submit and obey him and go home. She wouldn't do it.

“This isn't the end of this discussion,” he finally said. He turned his back and strode away, passing Yudit and Sarah on his way to the gate. Chana watched him go, her legs too shaky to climb the scaffolding again that day.

Nehemiah still trembled with fury as he marched through the Valley Gate and back to his headquarters inside the city. He would find Shallum and tell him exactly what he thought of his impudent, disrespectful daughter. What kind of a father couldn't control his children? Shallum certainly didn't deserve to be the district leader of Jerusalem if he was too weak to stop his daughter from pushing him around. Nehemiah reached the shade of the rush-covered roof that served as his field headquarters, but the only person there was his brother Hanani.

“Where's Ephraim?” he asked. The girl said her father had gone to talk to him.

“I don't know. I haven't seen Ephraim since this morning.”

“Shallum ben Hallohesh and his daughters—do you know them?” Nehemiah asked.

“I know Shallum, leader of the half-district of Jerusalem. And I'm aware that he has daughters, but I don't know them. Why?”

“There are three of them, and they're working on the wall. I saw them myself a few minutes ago. Women! Moving stones and climbing the scaffolding and using a plumb line!”

“Really?” The fact that Hanani was barely able to hide his amusement made Nehemiah angrier still.

“Our enemies are already mocking us. I'm just thankful they didn't see those three women when they made their state visit. Shallum's section is right beside the Valley Gate. It's outrageous!”

When Hanani took a step back, Nehemiah knew he had to
cool his temper. He grabbed the water dipper and plunged it into the jar. Gulped down a mouthful of water. Filled the dipper a second time and poured the water over his head. That woman had made him angrier than he'd been in a long time.
“
You obviously have no idea what it's like to
lose someone you love,”
she had accused. But Nehemiah knew exactly how she felt. Even though the men who'd killed his father had been brought to justice, Nehemiah's rage was still there, the same as hers. Yet it had never occurred to him that it might displease God to worship at the temple while hoarding that rage. And as much as he hated to admit it, he understood what motivated her to work on the wall. Hadn't he done the same thing, using his anger as fuel to rise to the position of cupbearer and ensure the king's safety?
“I'm pouring all of my
rage into building this wall,”
she'd told him
.
Wasn't he doing the same thing? Letting anger drive him to rebuild Jerusalem's wall?

Nehemiah pushed a few drawings around on his worktable, remembering her confession that she was angry with God. Nehemiah was angry, too, if he was honest with himself. God hadn't protected his parents, and so he'd taken over for Him, trying to protect everyone he loved. Then another thought occurred to him. What if Sanballat and Tobiah were right and God hadn't ordered him to rebuild the walls? What if he had petitioned the king and obtained the decree by the sheer force of his own stubborn will? He quickly pushed that thought aside, just like the scrolls. Of course he had heard from God. The Almighty One's hand was upon him.

“You know what infuriated me the most?” Nehemiah asked his brother. “She refused to stop working and go home. Even when I commanded her to. It was as if she was taunting me.”

Hanani covered his mouth to hide his smile, pretending to smooth his beard. “She must be quite a demon-woman if she made you lose your temper. You stayed so calm and serene when Sanballat, Tobiah, and Geshem taunted you.”

“I'd sooner stand up to Sanballat any day. He's more rational than she is.”

“What does this woman who dares to defy the governor of Judah look like?”

He didn't want to tell Hanani that she was annoyingly attractive, the kind of woman men wanted to shelter and protect. He had noticed how pretty she and her sisters were the night he'd eaten dinner at their home, but he'd forced himself to ignore them, aware that it was wrong to gaze at women that way. He hadn't wanted to stare today either, but he couldn't help noticing the way her clothing had clung to the curves of her body in the heat.

“And that's another thing, Hanani. These women are surely a distraction to the men who are trying to work.”

“I see.” Hanani was still trying to hide his smile. “I guess that answers my question.”

“Since you think this is so funny, I'm going to leave it up to you to take care of this problem.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because I have a wall to build. I can't waste any more time on this problem. Find Shallum and tell him to send his daughters home. They can't work on the wall ever again.”