The Prophet: Amos (4 page)

The days grew colder, nights longer. Amos led the flock back toward Tekoa where the sheep would spend the winter in corrals. Though he moved the flock each day, he gave them time to lie down in green pastures and rest. He led them through the valleys, keeping them away from the shadows where predators lay in wait. He anointed each sheep’s head with oil and treated every wound, most having been inflicted upon one another.

The first sight of Tekoa always filled Amos with mixed emotions. It was refreshing to come home after long months of solitude. His time of living off the land came to an end, and he looked forward to enjoying his sisters-in-law’s hot meals. But in Tekoa, he would have to tend to business, meet with other herders, deal with the market in Jerusalem as well as the corrupt priests who controlled it, and face his brothers, who complained and fretted and yet never changed their ways. He would rather spend his days tending sheep and his nights beneath the star-studded canopy of the heavens than live in the confines of a house. But even a house was preferable to the chaos and cacophony of the crowded markets near the Temple.

Amos comforted himself by making plans.

As soon as the animals were wintered and tended by trustworthy servants, and the business dealings and religious obligations over, he would go back out and survey the route for next year. He would spend a month plowing and planting the pasture near Tekoa, then move on to work in the sycamore groves in Jericho. He would pull poisonous plants, remove debris from water holes, repair folds, and hunt down and kill that troublesome lioness.

Come spring, the route would be ready for his flock.

“Ithai and Elkanan left eight days ago,” Eliakim told Amos. “Their lambs have already been taken to Jerusalem.”

Amos trusted Eliakim, his servant, over his own family members.

“Who bought them?”

“Joram. He said he would return tomorrow in the hope you would be here.”

Amos despised Joram. He was as corrupt as his master, Heled. “Did he cheat us again?”

“No.”

Though Eliakim said nothing more, Amos knew he had stood by as an advisor and probably saved Amos’s young nephews their profits. Had they bothered to reward Eliakim? Amos would see to it that his servant never lacked for anything. “Where are Ithai and Elkanan now?”

“They returned to Jerusalem, saying they would be back after the new moon festival.”

“Was Joram pleased when he left?”

“Pleased enough.”

That meant trouble had been averted. This time.

Separating the best lambs as they entered the sheepfold, Amos cut out those that had the slightest blemish. He would keep them in other pens until later.

Joram arrived two days later, eager to conduct more business. “What do you have for me?”

Amos showed him.

“These are better than the ones I’ve brought you.”

“These are the best I have.” Amos named his price.

Joram’s brows rose. “We exchange lambs. We don’t pay for them.”

“I know. But I made it clear to you things would change when our debts were paid in full.”

“Your nephews are less exacting.”

“You’re not dealing with my nephews.”

Joram scowled at him and walked to the pen that held the blemished lambs. “What about these?” He pointed. “I’ll take that one, and the other over there.”

Both had blemishes that could easily be covered. “I’ve already sold them,” Amos lied.

Joram turned, eyes dark. “Heled will not be pleased about this, Amos.”

Amos tried not to show how much that news pleased him.

“You know we have had a congenial arrangement for years.”

Congenial?

Joram raised his brows. “It has benefited all of us, has it not?”

To say it hadn’t would be to declare war on the priests who had used his father and brothers for years. Amos knew he must tread carefully or risk having sin and guilt offerings levied against him for any infraction that wretched priest could find—or invent. Even with family debts cleared, the priest thought he owned them.

Deciding not to press his luck, Amos forced a cool smile and spoke cautiously. “The arrangement stands, Joram. You can have the lambs I showed you.” If Joram refused, Amos would be free to offer his lambs to other priests in Jerusalem, priests who examined animals as though the eye of God were upon them.

“I didn’t come to trade perfect lambs for other perfect lambs.”

“It does seem a waste of time.”

Joram’s chin jutted out. “So you think you are more righteous than Heled?”

“Me? Only God is higher than Heled. I merely wish to offer you what the Lord requires for sacrifice: unblemished lambs. Why should you complain?”

“And you are an expert on the Law? You? A shepherd?” He sneered.

Heart drumming, Amos stood still, hoping his anger did not show.
Do You see, God? Do You even care about Your people?

Dark eyes narrowed at Amos’s silence. “Heled has given you every advantage, Amos, and you abuse his kindness. If not for his generosity, your family would still be in debt.”

Amos understood the threat, and spoke through clenched teeth. “We paid our debt in full, at a rate higher than the Law demands.”

Joram’s lips whitened. “You could find yourself in debt again. Easily.”

Fear coursed through Amos’s body. Joram stalked him like a lion, and all Amos could do was stand defenseless. One word of indignation or rebellion and Joram would pounce, setting the teeth of his threat into motion. He could pull Amos down. The priests had done it before. They could do it again.

Amos raged inwardly while showing nothing on the outside.
So this is the way it is. The way it will always be. Freedom earned can be ripped away. This is how You would have it! Power in the hands of a few who do what they want when they want. And poor men who want to do what is right suffer. The guild of priests decides what’s right and wrong. These purveyors of Your Law! They can twist it and use it any way they want. They ignore what they don’t like and add what will give them profits. And they keep adding and adding until the weight of their regulations crushes us! And we are told You are a just God.

Joram smiled, smug. “I will overlook your small show of defiance, Amos. You have served us well—and profited from our relationship, I might remind you. Bring whatever you have to offer us. The other lambs will be ready for you, and the usual stipend for your labors.” He slapped Amos on the shoulder.

The wound the lion had inflicted had not yet fully healed and Amos winced. The sharp pain made something snap inside him. “I have nothing for you, Joram.” The lambs might not be blemished, but he would be marked by sin for being a party to stealing from men like himself who had worked hard and done what they thought right only to suffer for it.

Joram grew frustrated. “We need to add to the Temple pens! I’ve brought you perfect lambs.”

An indictment of himself and the priest he served. Not that Joram cared. Not that he need care. He was safe, in favor, a Levite born to be a priest, or to serve one. He could play the game any way he chose for the rest of his life and never worry about where he would find his next meal or if he would have to sell himself into slavery to pay an unfair debt levied by a lying priest.

“Go ahead.” Amos gestured grandly toward the walled fields surrounding his few acres of land. There were other sheep owners in Tekoa. Perhaps one of them would enjoy the arrangement Joram would offer. Let them add their sheep to the Temple flocks. “Talk to the owners over there and there and there.” Thousands of sheep grazed in the pastures of Tekoa. Most belonged to the priests and the king. “These sheep belong to me, Joram. I have built this flock from the portion I earned. And I’ve already made plans for them.”

“What’s wrong with you, Amos? After all these years . . .”

Because he didn’t know, he lied. “I guess I feel the eyes of the Lord upon me.”

Joram’s face went deep red. “Oh, you think you’re that important. Well, someone’s eye is on you. Mine!” Cursing him, Joram turned on his sandaled heel and strode away.

Amos sat and buried his head in his hands.
Will You allow them to strip me of all I’ve worked for, Lord? Is that Your justice and mercy?

The next morning, Amos headed for Jerusalem. He carried extra provisions for the poor, and one perfect lamb on his shoulders while driving six goats along the road ahead of him. Beggars sat before the gate, calling out for alms. Some were tricksters who had found an easy way to make a living, but others, in truth, were in dire need.

A crippled man hobbled toward him. “Good Amos. Have you anything for a poor old man?”

“A blessing upon you, Phineas. How is your wife? your daughters?” Amos gave him a pouch of grain and sycamore figs.

“Well. A blessing upon you for asking, Amos. Has it been a good year for you?”

Phineas had once been a shepherd. A boar had wrecked one leg and almost taken his life. Now, he was relegated to begging to survive. “I had to put down a dam. She kept leading others astray.”

“I had a few of those in my time.”

Amos had placed a few shekels in the bag as well, knowing Phineas would find them later and squeeze them for all the good they could provide. “May the Lord bless and multiply this gift, and make it last a month.”

“And a greater blessing upon you, my friend. May the Lord our God smile upon you for your kindness.”

Amos had seen no evidence that God smiled on anyone but the priests who stole from poor men like this one. He gave other gifts to the poor he recognized, then entered the city.

The goats brought a good price in the market. From there, he took the lamb to the Temple, where he sought out a priest who didn’t know him. The lamb was deemed acceptable.
One honest priest,
Amos thought cynically. His obligations complete, he went to see his brothers.

As Amos left the Temple, he put a shekel in the plate of a blind man.

The man felt the coin eagerly and grinned. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“Consider yourself blessed that you do not have to witness what goes on inside this place,” Amos said as he walked away.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” Bani glared, face flushed with anger. “You were supposed to bring us more lambs!”

Clearly, Joram had assumed he would think things over and capitulate. “I don’t have any lambs to bring.”

“What do you mean, you have no lambs?” Ahiam stared.

“I’m building my flock. The wool will—”

“Wool?” Bani came to the fence. “Why did you do that? There’s more money in—”

“Have you seen the crowds?” Ahiam glared. “There’s money to be made. And we need more lambs!”

“Crowds need to eat. I sold a half-dozen goats in the market.”

Ahiam grabbed Amos’s robe. “Joram said you insulted him. I didn’t believe him. Now, I’m wondering!”

“Don’t wonder.” Amos tried to jerk free. “I offered him the best of the flock, and he refused.”

Ahiam let go of him. “What’s the matter with you, Amos? What’s happened?”

“We removed the yoke, Ahiam, but you and Bani have become accustomed to it!” He stormed away.

Though his brothers called out to him, he didn’t turn back. He wanted to get away from the stalls, away from the Temple, and out of the city. He gave offerings because it was expected, because his father had done it before him, and his father before that back to the time of Moses.