The Journey Begun (23 page)

“It
is
my fault!” Simon sputtered. “It’s my fault you’re here in the first place! I disobeyed Shem. He didn’t want you on board. I took your money and pushed you off to Omer. I never expected to see you again, but here you are. So, it
is
my fault! Now you want me to
murder
you, and I can’t do it! I won’t!”

“What’s the decision?” Shem appeared over Simon’s shoulder and glared at Jonah.

Jonah met his look through the pelting rain. “I have to go. It’s the only way.”

Simon shook his head and pushed to his feet. “I’m going to relieve the helm.” He stalked to the tiller and manhandled his apprentice out of the way.

“What does the crew know?” Jonah stood facing the captain as they both hunched in the wind.

“They came to the same conclusion I did. They’ve been grumbling about an angry god since the storm appeared from nowhere. They just don’t know whose god. They want to—”

“Cast lots,” Jonah finished for him.

Shem nodded.

“Do it. The lot will fall to me. Then you’ll know.”

Shem drew in a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “We’ll see.” He crooked two fingers in his mouth and a shrill whistle pierced the gale. Heads turned his direction as the crew caught the signal on the wind. He twirled his finger over his head in a sign to assemble and the men stumbled toward their captain. Simon remained at his post and stared straight ahead.

The men circled their master and hunkered down out of the wind.

Shem looked each man in the eye before speaking. “I know what you’ve all been saying. We’ve angered a god. We just don’t know which one, and we don’t know why he’s angry.”

The men glanced around, their eyes avoiding the captain’s.

“There’s one way to find out.” Shem set his jaw. “We cast lots. Whoever it falls to is the guilty one. It’ll be up to him to appease his god and settle the storm.”

They paused and shifted on their haunches. Finally, Uri met Shem’s glare and nodded. Man by man the crew followed his lead and dipped their heads in approval. Uri reached into a cloth work pouch tied to his waist and produced a handful of wooden dowel pegs. He put the tip of one to his mouth and crimped the end of it with his teeth. Shem pulled his shirt out from his waist, forming it into a loose bowl. Uri dropped the pegs into the shirt and the captain shuffled the lots through the material.

The pitching deck didn’t allow the custom of spilling the lots and noting where the marked dowel came to rest, to whom it was closest. Instead, they would each reach in blind and withdraw a peg. The offended god would have to intervene in the process. Shem extended the hem of his shirt and looked around, but no man moved to take the first lot. His eyes stopped on Uri. The carpenter shifted his weight and nodded. As he reached out, a hand pushed his arm aside.

Jonah slid in front of Uri and locked eyes with Shem. He reached into the shirt, pulled a peg out and, without looking at it, held it above his head. A flash of lightning highlighted the crimped dowel glistening in the rain between his fingers. A wave of relief settled the men back on their heels, and they stared at their white-haired passenger. Shem let his shirt drop, and the remaining dowels clattered to the deck.

The captain narrowed his eyes. “All right. Who is this god, what drives his anger, and what are we to do?”

Jonah rose, his voice low, but with a clear tone that penetrated the thrashing storm. “He is
Adonai Elohim
, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, creator of the seas and the dry land. I am His prophet, and I am aboard your ship as a fugitive. He gave me a task I could not abide and so I ran. He has found me.”

Eyes popped at the stooped man silhouetted against the flashes of lightning and swirling sky. The men inched away from the renegade prophet as though a lightning bolt would ignite him at any moment.

Shem’s cough broke the tension. “And what are we to do to appease this god?”

“Pick me up and throw me overboard.”

The men’s faces hardened. Confused muttering filtered through the storm’s mayhem.

“What did he say?”

“Throw him overboard?”

“We may as well just slit his throat and be done with it. We’d be murdering him just the same.”

“What kind of god is this that kills his own prophet? What god does that?”

“Is it a trick? Does this god want us to sacrifice his prophet only to turn and drown us for killing him?”

“You pick him up! I’m not touching him!”

Jonah read the thoughts of the crew. Their looks betrayed everything. He knew Shem would meet resistance—perhaps even an uprising—if he ordered them to carry out the command.

The captain rose and faced Jonah. “There must be something else we can do. Why would your god want you dead? It doesn’t make sense.”

Uri interrupted. “We haven’t tried the oars yet. The mast and sail are down, but maybe we can row out of this.”

Shem nodded. Jonah shook his head, although he understood the captain’s dilemma. Even if it only meant a delay, Uri’s suggestion would give Shem time to think.

Shem turned to his crew. “Deploy the oars! To your stations!”

Jonah propped his hands on his hips. He caught Shem’s eye and raised his eyebrows. The captain ignored him.

The crew scrambled to the oar racks. They pulled the heavy implements down and thrust them through slits in the gunwale panels. As they worked to establish a cadence, the sea behind the
Ba’al
reared up into a massive wall and collapsed with a deafening roar. The surge lifted the ship and tipped it on end, scattering men across the deck and tipping the oars on the port side through their locks. The waves hurled them against the side of the ship where they splintered and disappeared into the frothing whitecaps.

[B40]
 
Taking a wide stance against the pitching of the deck, Jonah stood with his arms folded across his chest and shook his head to punctuate the futility of their efforts.

Shem pulled himself to his feet and glared at the prophet. He wiped the spray from his face and looked around at his crew. They returned his look but said nothing.

His eyes fell last on Uri. They locked eyes and then the carpenter nodded. The two men pushed away from the forward bulkhead and stumbled toward Jonah. Shem reached him first.

“This is madness. You know that,” he shouted against the gale.

Jonah said nothing.

Uri loomed up behind his captain and stood, awaiting orders. Shem looked at the sky, then the waves crowding the
Ba’al
. He spat a curse and returned his glare to Jonah.

The prophet pivoted on his heel and teetered toward the starboard gunwale. Shem and Uri followed. The crew stumbled after the trio. When Jonah reached the rail, he stopped and stared at the heaving black water. His throat caught tight, and he faltered.
Oh, God, is there no other way? I’ll go to Nineveh—if you’ll still have me.
Tears welled up in his eyes and a knot tightened in his chest. He closed his eyes.

Two arms tucked under his arms and time slowed to a standstill. The storm faded to a dull roar. The deck settled, and the wind suspended its attack. The lush Galilean valley Jonah had known since he was a boy focused in his mind. A cloudless sky stretched over the mountains to the west. He stood at the bottom of the wadi road leading up Gath-hepher’s mount and studied the boulder-strewn path he’d navigated countless times through the years.

He felt himself being lifted to the rail. The Ben Amittai homestead, nestled amid the wild olive and terebinth trees, replaced the vision of the wadi road. The hillside was serene, basking in the glow of a glorious sunset that bathed the limestone in subtle hues of pink and yellow. The bleating of a nanny giving birth filtered through his dulled brain.

He teetered on the rail. His family appeared in the doorway of the stone house. Ehud and Sarah stood expressionless. Elias lifted his hand in a half-wave. Miriam pulled the twins’ heads against her side.

He was free falling and weightless now. His mother smiled from her chair near the window. The cold water stunned him and she evaporated.

Lll

The crew of the
Ba’al Hayam
cringed in a brilliant burst of light. They cowered, convinced lightning struck the ship, sure punishment for sacrificing this prophet. Warmth enveloped them, but they did not burn. Shem was the first to open his eyes. He squinted into the radiance of a mid-afternoon sun blazing from a cloudless sky. His eyes widened in spite of the brightness as they took in the beautiful aqua of a content sea rolling in gentle swells. The
Ba’al
sat motionless, a gentle breeze buffing the residual moisture glistening on her deck.

Uri touched his shoulder and Shem turned to see his shaking finger point toward the water. A small shadow hovering beneath the surface shimmered and grew faint. It faded out of sight as the crew crowded the rail, each man mesmerized by the twinkling sunlight left dancing across the tranquil water over where the shadow disappeared.

“Hoi!”
The shout came from the crewman nearest the bow. The men jerked their heads and followed the man’s gaze into the brightest splay of sunlight reflecting off the water. A chill raced up Shem’s spine as he spotted a massive shadow deep under the waves gliding toward the ship. He stared as the shadow veered and picked up speed. As it converged on the spot where Jonah’s shadow dissolved from sight a moment earlier, it hesitated and then disappeared into the depths. A mass of tiny bubbles hissed to the surface and all went quiet.

Twenty-five

on’t go.
Jonah’s last thought as he sank beneath the waves struck him as odd. He was talking to his mother. She was there a moment ago. Her smile was so soothing, just like always. She didn’t have to go.
He didn’t want her to.

I’m cold
. He cracked his eyelids open, but there was only grayness that stung his eyes with salt and cold. A hazy numbness enveloped his brain.
It’s cold here.

He felt himself slipping down, down. The coldness grew, the grayness deepened. He felt a tug on his shoulder and realized through his stupor that it was the treasure belt still slung around his neck. The weight of the silver pulled him downward, farther into the cold.

His lungs began to protest, but they were quieted by the lethargy pressing on his mind.
So, this is the way to Sheol. It’s not so bad.
He thought some sleep might be good.

His mind began to relax, but it perked again at a sudden swirl of water buffeting him. It spun him around once, and then all went calm again. As his eyes rolled back into his head, he felt a bump on the back of his neck and all went black.

“Father?”
Jonah was a young boy sitting at his father’s knee.

Amittai smiled.
“The key to a blessed life lies in the Scriptures, my sons. Learn them well.”

“Yes, Father.”
Ehud squirmed at Jonah’s side.

“Yes, Father.”
Boaz stifled a yawn.

“But what do they mean?”
Jonah frowned.

“You will learn, son. When you need them the most, they will be there.”

Jonah’s mind lay flat, daring not to move. But it was there. Was he breathing? He couldn’t tell. His hand twitched.

I’m not dead. Why not?

Awakening, he scratched at a wad of coarse cloth between his fingers. His sense traveled to his face and found wet strands of…what? The strands wrapped around his head and pressed against his lips and eyes. Slippery, the strands were—slippery.

Oh, God! Am I not dead? Have you saved me?

The notion piqued a surge of energy and a spasm jolted Jonah’s body. He tried to move his arm, but it wouldn’t budge. He twitched his other hand and something soft pressed against it. Something soft and smooth. He tried to open his eyes, but the lids were sealed. His lips quivered and pulled apart, but then snapped shut as a rancid fluid oozed onto his tongue. The violation gagged his throat and coaxed a reaction, but his stomach lay inert in his gut.

The lethargy returned and pushed his mind under.

A thick strip of cloth lay on the table, its shadow dancing in the flicker of an oil lamp. The remnant from Elisha’s cloak. His mother stroked it.

“We all have sins for which to repent, son. Never forget that.”
Deborah smiled at her son.

Jonah tightened his jaw. “
There are some people who are just evil and deserve to die!”

“God will have mercy where He will have mercy.”
She began to fade.

“…people who are just evil…where he will have mercy.”

“…
we all have sins for which to repent…and deserve to die!”

A bump jostled Jonah’s cramped mind back to semi-consciousness. His skin tingled, burned. He didn’t understand the sensation, but he welcomed it. The tingling meant he could still feel, the burning that he was still alive. He didn’t understand that either.

How long have I been here?

“Almost long enough.”

The voice shocked his senses.

Am I…in Sheol?

“No.”

Where am I?

“Not yet.”

Not yet?

“It is not yet time for you to know.”

When will I know?

“When you learn.”

Learn?

“To rejoice.”

Jerusalem. It was Passover. He was supposed to be in Jerusalem. It was time for the family pilgrimage.

Amittai stood with his arm resting on his son’s shoulder. The Temple shone in the morning sunlight like a block of pristine alabaster. Jonah and his family gazed at the magnificence of the place Heaven met Earth, where
Adonai
dwelt among his people. Jonah never tired of the grandeur of Jerusalem at Passover. The air sparked with energy, the crowds bustling in expectation of the celebration of their deliverance from bondage in Egypt. And in anticipation of their Deliverer, who would protect them from bondage ever again.

“What do you feel, Son?”

“I feel like singing.”
He looked up at his father.
“Like…rejoicing.”

“And King David wrote songs for us to sing at times just like this, eh?”
Amittai smiled.
“It is good to sing. It is good to call out to the Holy One. It is good to rejoice.”

Amittai mounted the first step leading to the outer court of the Temple. His family followed.
“They that trust in the L
ord
shall be as Mount Zion, which cannot be removed.”

An odd urge pricked Jonah’s numbness.

I want to see the Temple again.

His beleaguered mind picked up tempo as it grew in conviction of the impossible.
But this must be Sheol.
Surely the voice was wrong. Where else could it be? Yet, this was not what he expected of Sheol. Could he still desire the Holy Temple in Sheol?

I want to call out to the Holy One.

Could he still call out to the Holy One from Sheol?

I want to…rejoice…again.

Was rejoicing allowed here?

He didn’t care.

“I shall cry from Sheol, and you shall hear. And although you’ve…cast me away from yourself, into the depths of the sea—even to the roots of the earth—I shall again look to your holy Temple, O Lord my God. Although your waves engulf me and I am…lost…you will raise me. I remember, O God, your holy Temple and I lift my eyes to you. I remember, O my God, my vow and your command. And I sacrifice myself with thanksgiving…with praise…for to you and you alone belongs salvation.”

Jonah’s mind melted into deep sleep.

To you…alone…belongs salvation. Even to the heathen. Even to…Nineveh.

To you alone…