Word Fulfilled, The (41 page)

Fifty

Israel, Gath-hepher

Twenty-fifth Day of
Âbu

onah sat on the slope above the family’s tannery. Ehud had rebuilt their father’s limestone cairn while Jonah was in Assyria. He had leveled the site and cleared away years of debris and undergrowth. His mother’s grave lay neat and clean next to her husband’s. His eyes roamed the twin monuments, and his mind recaptured the faces of his beloved parents from years less complicated.

Amittai’s soft chuckle at one of Boaz’s wayward comments echoed through his mind. Deborah’s vision brushed an errant wisp of hair from a youthful Jonah’s forehead with an adoring look and tucked him under his blanket. The blessings that were his parents loomed so vividly in his mind after his experience in Nineveh. The peace he knew as a child in the Amittai ben Avram household stood in such stark contrast to Hannah’s faraway look at what might have been, had Mordecai and she not forsaken their heritage. The emptiness he had seen in her lent a somber reminder of the Judge Samuel’s words,
“Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.”
To forsake the God of his fathers seemed impossible to him—until he remembered his own rebellion. Had he not also done what was right in his own eyes?

Jonah sighed.
I am so weak, so small. Why
Adonai
chose me to carry His word will forever be a mystery to me. I am truly no better than Mordecai, who considered himself and his desires ahead of God’s.

A hoarse cough startled Jonah from his reverie. He turned his head. “Eli!”

He jumped up and turned toward his old friend. Elihu ben Barak stepped forward, and they grasped wrists.

“Your brother told me you’d be here. I’m not disturbing you, I trust.”

Jonah shook his head, unable to shake his grin. “No, of course not. It has been too long, my friend.”

Elihu nodded. “I missed your return from Joppa, although Hadassah and Benjamin told me about what happened.” He paused. “Little Leah is well, by the way. She has become Hadassah’s shadow. They’re teaching her the ways of the vineyard. I believe she’s going to be all right.”

Jonah nodded and smiled as his mind flashed back to the orphan girl he’d brought to Elihu’s sister and brother-in-law for refuge from a life of forced harlotry.

“That is good. I knew Hadassah would be the perfect mother for her.”

Elihu smiled. “Yes, Leah has completed her. No woman on earth was meant to be a mother more than Hadassah. We thought it a cruel twist of nature that she was barren, but now all that has changed.” He glanced at Jonah. “You should visit them.”

Jonah looked down. “That would be nice.”

Elihu’s face grew serious. “That’s why I’m here. I thought you might stop to see them on the way to Samaria.”

“Samaria?”

His friend nodded. “King Jeroboam asks for you. He wants you to come to Samaria, to enter his service as a court prophet.”

“A court prophet? But we discussed that when I was in Samaria, Eli. He knows I am of no use until
Adonai
chooses to speak through me again. I promised to return if such a commission came, but not before.”

Elihu set his jaw. “Yes, but things have changed.”

“Changed?”

“There is a man from Judah—another prophet, some say—who preaches against what you preached.”

Jonah shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“This man, Amos, disquiets the people.” Elihu went on, his voice harsh. “Amaziah, the chief priest at the shrine at Bethel, reports that Amos prophesied Jeroboam will die by the sword, and that Israel will go into exile. The upstart complains of religious and social injustices—completely without basis, of course. His message runs counter to what you told Jeroboam.”

Jonah looked up at his friend. “Does it?”

Elihu frowned. “Of course it does. You prophesied the land would be restored to Israel—” his face broke into a smile—“which is happening. Half of
ha eretz
now lies under the control of Jeroboam. And in Judah, King Amaziah and his son, Uzziah, have embarked on forays to the south and the west. More and more of the Promised Land is recaptured every day. What you prophesied is coming true.”

“But, Eli, don’t you remember the rest of the prophecy? That the restoration would only be for a season if the people refused to repent and seek
Adonai’s
face once again?”

“But they do.” Elihu knit his brow.

“No, Eli, they don’t,” Jonah said solemnly. “On my return from the east, I passed both Mt. Hermon and Mt. Tabor. Not only did I see the old high places, pagan altars and Asherah poles still in place, I saw new ones. In fact—” He nodded over Elihu’s shoulder.

The soldier turned around. On a bluff just north of where they stood, an altar of piled rock sat amid a freshly cut clearing. A tree, newly stripped of its bark and scored with signs of the goddess Asherah—known also as Ashteroth, also as Ishtar—rose by its side. Elihu dropped his gaze, then turned back toward his friend.

Jonah’s voice lowered. “Perhaps this new prophet is right.”

Elihu ground his jaw. “Of course he isn’t right. He speaks against the king.”

“But he speaks for God.” Jonah peered into his comrade’s narrowed eyes. “Eli, it’s been over six years since I delivered God’s message to Samaria. Why does idolatry still flourish in Israel? You say half the land has been conquered for the king, but none of it has been restored to
Adonai
, to whom it really belongs.”

Elihu shook his head. “These things take time, Jonah. It was first necessary to reclaim the land for Israel. That is being done.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Exasperation flooded Elihu’s voice.

“Why is it necessary to conquer land with armies before you conquer hearts with truth?”

“There are priests for that. Jeroboam is the king. He leads an army.”

“Perhaps that is part of the problem, Eli. The priesthood. Didn’t you say Amos speaks out against religious injustice, too?” He continued before Elihu could interrupt. “And who do the court prophets serve? The court, of course. The king. If the king shows no interest in the things of God, neither will his priesthood. No, the king doesn’t just lead the army, he leads the people. All the people in all ways. This king fails the people.”

Elihu’s face grew hard. “I won’t listen to this. How would you even know the problems that face a king?”

Jonah smiled sadly. “I do know of such things, my friend. I just left a land with a king and a queen who lead their people in the matters that are important, albeit for only a season. The gentile Assyrians of Nineveh have repented, Eli. The chosen people of Israel have not.” He shook his head.
“Adonai
has spared Nineveh. Will He spare Israel?”

Elihu glowered. “This is the land promised to the people by God.”

Jonah sighed. “It’s not
where
the people live; it’s
how
they live.”

The old soldier spun on his heel and stalked several paces away. He stood with his back to Jonah, his shoulders hunched. Several moments passed before he turned. “So, you won’t come back with me.”

“I love you like a brother, Eli, and I love this land. But, no, I will not go to Samaria. There is nothing for me there.”

Elihu took a step forward. “There is prestige and glory—and the honor of service to your king.”

Jonah shrugged. “All of which crumble to dust compared to the honor of service to my God.”

Elihu dropped his head and exhaled slowly. He rubbed his eyes, and looked back up. “So, what will you do?”

Jonah smiled. “Go back to Nineveh.”

“What?”

“I leave in the morning.”

“But
Assyria?
Why?”

“There are people there who need me.” His smile deepened. “And there is a person there who I need.”

“But your people are here. Your family, your land.”

Jonah nodded. “My family knows. They understand.”

“But—”

“Eli, if
Adonai
gives me another message to deliver to Israel, I’ll be back. Until then, I’ll go where I’m needed the most.” He shrugged. “And who knows? Perhaps God has already passed my mantel to this—Amos, was it?”

Elihu frowned.

Jonah cocked his head. “If I were you, I’d listen to him.”

Epilogue

Israel, the Valley of Jezreel

841
b.c.

onah picked his way down the slope. He took extra care after he tripped over a broken spear and nearly pitched over the edge of the ravine. This was no time for clumsiness. The early twilight hindered his search, and he needed to finish before dark. Jehu’s army would bury their dead at first light tomorrow. Another glance at the encroaching shadows, and Jonah’s hope began to ebb.

He knew he shouldn’t be out here. Elihu agreed to let him stay only if he kept to the rear of the battle lines. Jonah had promised not to venture out on his own—just as he was doing now. A prick of guilt stabbed his mind for going back on his word, but not enough to turn back. Elihu was a good friend, but he was too protective. No matter. Jonah had his reasons, and he wasn’t going to let Elihu or anyone else dissuade him.

He worked his way to the edge of the drop-off and scoured the desecrated hillside. The sickly sweet odor of spilled blood fueled the bile in his gut, and the sight of raw flesh burned a grotesque image in his mind. It was all he could do to remain focused.

Jonah skirted a rock formation and pulled up short atop a cliff where the ravine walls jutted out onto the riverbed. He braced himself and peered over the edge. To the west, evening shadows crawled down the valley floor, the day anxious to release the horrific scene to the darkness of night. A light breeze picked up and eased the heaviness of the late afternoon air. Below him the Kishon River ambled past the mouth of the gorge, seemingly unaware of the violation so recently committed on its banks. He resumed his search and his eye swept over a prostrate form at the water’s edge. Jonah squinted into the shadows, then set his jaw.

He scanned the steep grade for a way down. Several paces to his left, he glimpsed a cleft in the lip of the precipice. A switchback trail cut by generations of goats who had grazed in this valley led down to the riverside.

Jonah stepped onto a rock ledge at the head of the ancient trail and began the arduous climb down to the river. He sidestepped between boulders and slipped on loose dirt and rock shorn up by countless scrubby saplings and shrubs that clutched the face of the cliff. At the bottom, he stumbled onto the pebbly surface of the riverbank. His heart pounded as he hurried to the fallen warrior. He stepped over a dead Assyrian soldier with an arrow in his ribcage and a sword across his body.

Next to the Assyrian, the Israelite soldier sprawled in a small dark pool cut off from the river by a graveled sandbar. He had come to rest on his back, with only his head and shoulders above the glassy surface. An arrow circled with rings of scarlet protruded from his chest.

Jonah slackened his pace at the foot of the sandbar. He stared for a long moment into the ashen face of the warrior, then sank to his knees in the shallow pool. The movement sent ripples across the water and undulated strands of black curly hair across the man’s temple.

His greatest fear was realized. Boaz, his brother, was dead.

Jonah squeezed his eyelids closed but failed to stem the flow of tears that surged down his cheeks.

Boaz!

Somehow, Jonah knew he would find him here, like this. He had braced himself for this moment, but not well enough. His trek through the grisly death strewn across the battlefield did not numb him sufficiently for this discovery. Boaz, his brother, his mentor, his friend.

Jonah settled onto the sand beside his brother’s body.

“You knew it would come to this, didn’t you, Brother? Your quarrel with Father was so pointless, but it gave you the excuse to escape the tannery, Gath-hepher—and us.”

The wavelets tickled Boaz’s beard, thin wisps of hair that had not yet blanketed his chin. His face was without expression, as Jonah had often seen it after an argument with their father.

“Restless spirit. That’s what you always called it, but nothing Mother or Father tried to do was ever enough. Nothing satisfied you. When you sneaked out that night, I knew you weren’t coming back.” Jonah narrowed his eyes at the memory. “Mother suspected, too, but she never spoke a word. Father’s heart broke. He watched for you to return until the disease took him this year. You didn’t know that, did you, Boaz? Father died.”

Jonah drew in a deep breath, then set his jaw.

“Mother clings to the hope that you’re alive. She needs that hope, or she’ll soon follow Father to Sheol, I know she will. I can’t tell her. I won’t tell anyone.” Jonah brushed away a tear. “Maybe you’ve found a girl and have settled down. Maybe someday you’ll come back with a grandchild for Mother. Or maybe you’re in Jerusalem, where you’re learning a trade. Or maybe . . .” He choked back a lump in his throat.

Boaz . . .

Jonah reached toward his brother’s still face, then hesitated. The strength left him and his hand dropped onto Boaz’s chest. His fingertips tapped against a hard object beneath his brother’s tunic. He frowned and shifted the material to reveal a leather thong looped around the young soldier’s neck. He pulled at it, and his eyes widened at a gold medallion that slipped through the tunic’s collar. He eased the thong from around his brother’s head and squinted at it in the dim light. Etched on its glossy surface was a
menorah
. He frowned.
What is this?

“Jonah!”

His name floated on the evening breeze and nudged him from his reverie.

“
Jonah!”

Jonah lifted his head and saw Elihu splash across the river downstream. Deep dusk had overtaken the valley and mercifully cloaked the remnants of battle in its gloom. Jonah rose to his feet and cradled the amulet in his hand.

“Jonah!”

Elihu limped toward him along the riverbank.

Jonah tucked the costly heirloom into the pouch tied to his waist and raised a half wave to his friend. He bent back over Boaz’s prostrate form.

“Shalom
, Boaz ben Amittai,” he whispered. “Sleep well.”

Jonah wiped a sleeve across his swollen eyes, then set off across the gravel toward Elihu.

Lll

“So it begins.”