On This Foundation (19 page)

J
ERUSALEM

N
ehemiah was standing deep in the foundation trench that his workers had dug on the northeastern corner of the wall when the messenger arrived. “We spotted the provincial governors and their entourage,” the man said, panting. “They're about a mile north of here on the Damascus Road.”

Nehemiah stifled a groan. He would have to lay aside his work for this official state visit. His brothers, his aides, and all the men on his council would have to stop working, too. Many of those councilmen supervised a wall section or a gate, and Nehemiah hated to take them away from their work, but he must follow protocol. “Is their delegation a large one?” he asked.

“It appears to be. They brought soldiers with them.”

“Very well.” He brushed dirt from his hands and reached up to Hanani, who stood on top, for help climbing out of the trench. “Tell my staff to go to the Yeshana Gate and get ready to greet them,” he told the messenger. “I'll be there shortly.” He turned back to the men digging the foundation trench and said, “You need to make it deeper. The ground has shrunk because of the drought. When the rains finally do come, the
earth will swell and cause the foundations to shift. Expansion and shrinkage are facts of life in our climate, so our foundations must be deep.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He saw Hanani eying his dusty, sweat-soaked tunic. “Shall I have someone bring you a clean robe,
Governor
?” he asked with a grin.

“I suppose I should change. Thanks.” He looked at the bustle of work all around him, the jumble of scaffolding and ropes and tools, and hated to leave. The sounds of progress—shouting workers and pounding chisels—were like music to his ears.

“You know it's going to be impossible to disguise what we're doing,” Hanani said.

“I wouldn't hide it even if I could.”

His brother left to help the messenger alert the council members and district leaders that the delegation was about to arrive. Nehemiah quickly doused his face and hands with water and put on his clean robe, which arrived just in time for him to stand at the gate and welcome the procession. Sanballat led the way, of course, overdressed in the oppressive summer heat in heavy, ornate clothing. Sweat ran down his round face, which was as red as his robe. It took two horses to pull him and his chariot, while Tobiah the Ammonite and Geshem the Arab rode on horseback. A gaggle of their underlings and aides swarmed around them, raising clouds of dust on the parched road. Sanballat had also brought an escort of mounted cavalry and foot soldiers, which Nehemiah recognized as an attempt to intimidate him. He remained unfazed.

“Welcome,” he said, forcing a smile. “I hoped your first visit could wait until we weren't quite so busy. As you can see, we are in the middle of a major building project.”

“What is this you are doing?” Sanballat asked, gesturing to the scaffolding that framed the Yeshana Gate. He was playing dumb. It was obvious to anyone with eyes what they were doing,
even though work at the gate had halted to allow the delegation to pass through without the risk of falling rocks and debris.

“The walls of Jerusalem are in need of repairs,” Nehemiah replied. He could play dumb, as well. “I decided that the months between the end of summer and the beginning of the winter rains were a good time to get the work done. Please follow me, if you will. I have prepared my assembly hall for your visit. My councilmen and district leaders will join us shortly.”

“I think I'd like to see some of your work, first.”

Nehemiah had anticipated this request and was ready with a reply. “You can get a glimpse of the work right here at the Yeshana Gate. But I'm afraid it would be impossible to take your delegation any place else. We're still in the very early stages of construction, and a great deal of rubble litters most of the sites. The Yeshana Gate is an exception because it's been in use all these years. This way, please.”

Sanballat didn't move. “You're rebuilding the wall around Jerusalem.” It was statement, not a question.

“Yes. We are.”

Sanballat laughed out loud. He turned around in his chariot to face his associates and the Samaritan army that had accompanied him. “Did you hear that? What do these feeble Jews think they're doing? Will they restore the wall? Will they offer sacrifices for divine help? Will they finish in a day? Can they bring the stones back to life from those heaps of rubble—burned as they are?”

“Just look at what they are building!” Tobiah added with a mocking laugh. “If even a fox climbed up on it, he would break down their wall of stones!”

Nehemiah signaled to his aides and continued walking so his guests would have no choice except to follow. But all the way to his residence, he silently prayed to the Almighty One.
Hear us, O our
God, for we are despised. Turn their insults back on
their own heads. Give them over as plunder in a
land of captiv
ity. Do not cover up their guilt or
blot out their sins from your sight, for they have
thrown insults in the face of the builders.

It seemed to take forever for the three leaders to refresh themselves and settle into their places in the council chamber, longer still to plow through all of the formal introductions and welcomes. Nehemiah could barely control his impatience and would have gladly skipped all of this if he could have. When Sanballat finally got around to the purpose of his visit, he repeated the question he'd already asked, “What is this you are doing?” Then he added a more inflammatory one: “Are you rebelling against the king?”

Nehemiah barely kept his temper. “That's an extremely serious charge. Why would I rebel against King Artaxerxes? He's sponsoring this work.”

“Ah, but does he know what you're really up to here in the backwaters of his empire?” Sanballat rose from his chair, causing the wood to groan with relief, then addressed the men on the council. “Nehemiah is new to our region and doesn't understand the dangerous political implications of fortifying this city. But I'm sure you gentlemen understand. And you also know that you'll be executed as traitors along with your leader when the king learns of your subversive activity.”

Nehemiah's jaw ached from clenching it to avoid giving a heated reply. If any of his council members had doubts about his leadership, the portly Samaritan leader was reinforcing them. Nehemiah took a moment to calm himself before speaking, knowing two things with certainty: King Artaxerxes
was
on his side; and the ultimate authority for this project had come from God, not men. He didn't need to answer Sanballat's ridiculous charges. He simply said, “The God of heaven will give us success.”

Sanballat smirked. “Let's say for a moment that Tobiah and Geshem and I believe you—and that King Artaxerxes also believes that your motives are honorable. How do you expect to accomplish such a monumental task?”

“One stone at a time.”

Sanballat laughed out loud, creating a ripple of insulting laughter from among his entourage. Even stone-faced Geshem the Arab laughed derisively along with the others. Tobiah the Ammonite, who seemed to shift moods to match Sanballat's like a chameleon changing color, chuckled and rolled his eyes. Tobiah was the quietest of the three leaders, the least flamboyant. But Nehemiah knew from experience that sometimes the quiet ones were the most dangerous.

“Are we to believe,” Sanballat asked, “that you're a professional architect and builder, Nehemiah? Do you have qualifications that you've kept hidden from us?”

“You'll see exactly how qualified I am when the wall is finished.”

“Where do you expect to find a workforce of skilled laborers?” Geshem asked, his tone condescending, his expression skeptical.

“The men of Judah will do the rebuilding.”

Nehemiah's comment caused more laughter, louder this time. “Your wall won't amount to much with farmers and tradesmen doing all the work,” Tobiah the Ammonite said.

“He's right,” Sanballat added. “If you expect your wall to offer any protection, it has to be built correctly, not cobbled together.” He turned his back on Nehemiah and addressed the district leaders again. “Your governor is wasting your time. Your people's time. Their efforts would be better spent doing what they're qualified to do—growing wheat and barley and olives, herding sheep.”

Nehemiah held up his hands to halt the twittering laughter and insults that followed Sanballat's remark. “Since you obviously don't believe we can accomplish this, what are you so worried about? Why make the long journey here? Why try to discourage us from doing something you believe is impossible?”

Sanballat finished his laughter with a cough and settled back
in his seat, his hands folded on his broad belly. “As governor of The Land Beyond the River, it's my duty to warn you that the Persians will most certainly interpret your actions as rebellious.”

“Nonsense. You saw my letter of authorization from King Artaxerxes. Or did you fail to read it carefully?” Nehemiah looked directly at Geshem, who had barely given the document a glance.

“My aides looked at it,” Geshem said. “And they don't recall reading anything about fortifying Jerusalem.”

He was right. The letter didn't specifically say that. But in his appeal to King Artaxerxes, Nehemiah had made his intentions clear:
“If it pleases the king and
if your servant has found favor in his sight, let
him send me to the city in Judah where my
fathers are buried so I can rebuild it.”
King Artaxerxes had granted all of Nehemiah's requests.

“Would you like to see the letter the king wrote to Asaph, keeper of his forest?” he asked. “In it, the king commands Asaph to give me timber to make beams for the gates and for the citadel near the temple and for the city wall.”

Sanballat didn't reply, turning to the council leaders again. “Listen to me, gentlemen. Shallum . . . Rephaiah . . . Malkijah . . . we've worked together in the past, and I know that you've also worked closely with Tobiah. None of you is a fool. Surely, now that you've had time to think about it, you realize the futility of this plan and the foolishness of the man who is leading you into such dangerous folly. Attempting to rebuild miles and miles of city wall is a tragic waste of time and manpower that could be put to better use during these difficult economic times.”

Nehemiah had heard enough. “If your delegation's purpose is to mock and ridicule me and to undermine my work, then I think your official visit has come to an end. Good day.” He would have walked out, but Sanballat rose from his seat to stop him.

“You forget that I ran the province of Judah before you arrived
out of nowhere. I could be of assistance to you. So could Tobiah, who knows this land and its people much better than you do.”

“I haven't forgotten. The province of Judah became impoverished under your rule and the enormous taxes you imposed.”

“I didn't cause the drought, Governor Nehemiah. I care about these people and have their best interests in mind—and you obviously don't.”

Tobiah rose to join the assault. “Your decision affects the entire Land Beyond the River, including the province that I govern. Sanballat, Geshem, and I all have a share in what happens in Judah. ”

“We Judeans are
God's
servants,” Nehemiah replied. “And we will continue rebuilding the wall. But the three of you have no share in Jerusalem or any claim or historic right to it.”

“How dare you!” Sanballat shouted.

“I dare because King Artaxerxes appointed me governor of Judah. I'm doing the work that he and my God gave me to do. You and anyone else who oppose me are opposing God.”

“Your God spoke to you and told you to build?” Tobiah mocked. “You have some nerve! Who do you think you are? Moses? The Messiah? Only they may claim to hear from our God.” Tobiah turned to the high priest. “Eliashib, are you and your fellow priests going to allow such blasphemy? Your governor just claimed to have direct revelation from God!”

Nehemiah didn't wait for Eliashib's reply. He walked toward the door, turning back to say, “You are welcome to stay and enjoy the meal my servants have prepared for you. But I have no more time to spare for you and your taunts. I have a job to do. The God I serve will give us success.”

He heard the anxious buzz of voices behind him as he strode from the room. His aide Jehohanan hurried out with him. “You've insulted Governor Sanballat and the others,” he whispered on the way down the hall. “I've never seen him so angry.”

“Well, I'm angry, as well. He took advantage of my hospitality to mock and ridicule me and my work.”

“He's a very powerful man. I'd watch my back, if I were you.”