Keepers of the Covenant (24 page)

T
HE
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ERSIAN
CAPITAL
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USA

E
zra stood in the courtyard outside the king’s throne room, waiting for his audience with King Artaxerxes. After weeks of traveling and months of waiting, the day he’d hoped for had come at last. Ezra had fasted and prayed in preparation for this meeting, and now he felt weak with hunger. Even so, he had vowed not to eat today until he’d spoken to the king.

The enormous royal palace covered an area as large as Ezra’s entire Jewish community of tightly packed homes in Babylon. Built on three hilltops, the compound had been designed to fill the king’s subjects with awe—and it accomplished that purpose. Ezra had only glimpsed it from a distance before today, and as he had crossed the bridge to enter the gate to the immense palace, his knees began to tremble. Security was tight, and he was surprised to learn that ever since the days when Mordecai was in power, the king entrusted his safety only to Ezra’s fellow Jews. It seemed a good sign.

Ezra and the other elders had passed through an outer courtyard, then followed the chamberlain through a maze of hallways. They’d glimpsed the enormous
apadna
used for formal
ceremonies, its towering pillars taller than any trees Ezra had ever seen, each topped with a pair of carved bulls. He and his delegation had ended up here in a smaller, inner courtyard where they’d been told to wait.

The elders who’d accompanied Ezra this morning remained silent, aware he had a lot on his mind and heart. He knew he should rehearse his speech and review everything the king’s seven advisors had told him about approaching the great ruler of the Persian Empire. They had explained about body language and government protocol and cultural taboos and expectations. But all Ezra could think about was Devorah, and how very much he missed her. He longed for her words of encouragement to keep him from getting disheartened, her kisses, her embrace to strengthen him. He thought of his sons and daughters, as well, wondering if raising their seven children alone these past four and a half months was becoming too much for Devorah. Would she remember to ask Asher for help with the twins if she needed it? Ezra had just closed his eyes, trying to picture Devorah’s face, when he heard his name being called.

“Ezra ben Seraiah.”

He whirled around to face the chamberlain. “Yes?”

“His Majesty will see you now.”

Ezra’s knees went weak. He took a moment to whisper a final, desperate prayer as he smoothed his hair and beard and straightened his rumpled tunic.
God of Abraham,
give me the right words to say. Move the king’
s heart to let our people go home.
It was all he had time for. The chamberlain opened the door, and Ezra walked down a hall and through two more sets of doors, alone.

The king’s advisors had counseled him to go alone, saying it would be better for Ezra to approach King Artaxerxes unaccompanied. He would appear less threatening as a solitary petitioner making the request on behalf of his people. Ezra’s first surprise was that the room was more modest than he expected.
When he’d first arrived in Susa and saw the city’s magnificent palaces and buildings, he’d felt insignificant in comparison, the rustic leader of an unsophisticated, enslaved people. He saw idols everywhere, and it was impossible to avert his eyes because there was no place else to look. Susa was a city of splendor—it was the only word to describe it. But this modest throne room where King Artaxerxes sat waiting for him wasn’t designed to impress the visitor with the king’s might and power.

Ezra remembered to halt a respectful distance from the throne, remembered to bow low the way the advisors had instructed him.
The hand
of the Lord our God is with me,
he told himself. He swallowed, found his voice, and said, “Your Majesty, King Artaxerxes, I am Ezra ben Seraiah, your humble servant.”

“You’ve come with a petition?” the king asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You may rise.” Ezra stood and handed the document he and the elders had drawn up to the chamberlain. The servant carried it to the king.

“Summarize this petition for me,” Artaxerxes said as he scrolled through it.

“Your Majesty, I’m requesting that you allow my people, the Jews, to return to our homeland of Judah in the Trans-Euphrates Province. We were exiled when the Babylonian king, Nebuchadnezzar, invaded our nation nearly 130 years ago and carried us to Babylon. One of your predecessors, His Majesty King Cyrus, allowed some of our forefathers to return and rebuild the temple of our God. We’re now requesting permission for more of us to return so we may worship the God of our ancestors in the city where our forefathers are buried.”

The king glanced at the petition, then asked, “What does my empire stand to gain from granting your request?”

Ezra wasn’t prepared for this question. But he recalled that the Persians had recently suffered a defeat by the Egyptians, and he scrambled to think of a way to use that information in
his favor. “If you study a map of the Trans-Euphrates Province, Your Majesty, you’ll see that my nation of Judah sits at the crossroads of that region. If you allow us to return, my people will establish a secure foothold in the province for you, a buffer state, on the border of Egypt. Not only can we be your eyes and ears in that region, but you could benefit from having our powerful God as your ally. The current population of Judah is very small, but a restored population would provide you with military and economic advantages. Our God has promised to prosper our people if we live according His laws, and if we prosper, then you and your empire also prospers.”

“Is that your motivation? You’re asking this for the good of my empire?”

Ezra’s heart skipped a beat. The advisors had warned him to swear his allegiance to the Persian king as often and as heartily as he could. But Ezra couldn’t lie. “No, Your Majesty,” he said, shaking his head. “I confess my sole motivation is to serve my God. Loyalty to Him comes first and foremost. My people want to please Him and live in obedience to Him under the terms of His covenant with us. We can’t do that as long as we’re exiled from our homeland and our temple. The God we worship has given us very specific directions for how to live and serve Him, and many of those laws are impossible to keep in Babylon. Our God promises to bless us and prosper us when we live by His rules, and that’s what we’re asking to do. Of course, we will be greatly indebted to you if you allow us to emigrate freely, and we will be loyal, faithful servants to you in return.”

“Did you say some of your people have emigrated before?”

“Yes, about eighty years ago under King Cyrus. His decree gave our fathers permission to go up to Jerusalem and rebuild God’s temple. My petition asks you to allow more of us to return and to establish the province of Judah under the laws of our God.”

“Are you asking to govern this region yourself?”

“No, Your Majesty. No. I am one of the Almighty One’s priests, the descendant of a family of priests. I wish only to fulfill that calling. I also serve as a teacher, specializing in matters concerning the laws and commands of our God. My people were carried into exile because we failed to obey those commands, and so my goals are to investigate the state of things in Judah, to make sure the province is governed by the Torah, and to teach people to fear and obey our God.”

“Suppose I grant only you permission to go?”

Ezra caught his breath. “That would be unacceptable. I speak on behalf of many others who also wish to serve our God and live according to His laws.”

The king silently studied Ezra’s written petition, then looked up at him again, his eyes cold. “Are you requesting anything else from me for your journey? Travel expenses? Soldiers for protection?”

Ezra hadn’t thought to ask for a military escort, trying to keep his petition short and simple. Now he was afraid to ask for an escort or expenses, fearing they would make his petition too costly for the king to consider, especially after his military losses. “No, Your Majesty. I’m not asking for anything else. The gracious hand of our God will be with us.”

The king handed the petition to the chamberlain. “Put this with the others. . . . I will consider your request, Ezra son of Seraiah, and give you my decision when I’m ready. You may go.”

Ezra bowed again. “Thank you, Your Majesty. And may the God I serve prosper your reign.”

As soon as he returned to the courtyard, Ezra sank down on a bench, his legs too unsteady to carry him further. The others quickly gathered around him. “What happened? What did the king say?”

“He asked me a few questions, then said he would consider our petition and let us know. Our meeting flew by so fast and . . . and I can’t even remember everything I said. I tried to keep
it simple, but I wasn’t prepared for some of the questions he asked.”

One of the elders turned to the king’s advisor. “What happens now?”

“Now you wait.”

Ezra returned to the house in the Jewish section of Susa where he and the elders had been staying. As they waited for one week, then two, Ezra’s mood went up and down, from hope to despair and back again, as if riding a cart through mountainous terrain. He spent some days thinking about the temple, imagining himself serving as a priest alongside his sons, picturing his family in Jerusalem, God’s holy city. Other days, he resigned himself to living the remainder of his life in Babylon if the king rejected his request.

He missed his family. Whenever Ezra found himself worrying about Devorah and his children, he would try to pray and turn them over to the safety of God’s hand. But sometimes the burden of fear and worry would descend as he imagined his sons standing at the foot of the great ziggurat in the center of Babylon, gazing up at it with admiration. He would recall the Persian king’s cold stare and be certain he would refuse their petition. Again and again, Ezra would close his eyes and pray, trying to focus his thoughts on the Holy One’s promise:
“Even if
you have been banished to the most distant land . . .
God will gather you and bring you back,”
and trust that He would show mercy and return His people to Jerusalem.

Midway through the third week of waiting, one of the king’s messengers arrived where Ezra and the others were staying. Ezra’s heart began to race the moment he saw the Persian. “Do you bring good news?” he asked.

“The king’s seven advisors will meet with you and your delegation tomorrow in the council chamber,” he replied.

Ezra felt a stab of disappointment. The meeting would be with the advisors, not the king. In the council chamber, not the
palace. “I hope this isn’t a bad sign,” he told the others.
Tomorrow.
How would he ever sleep tonight?

“Whether it’s good news or bad,” one of the elders said, “at least we can finally return to our families.”

Ezra rose at dawn the next morning to pray, then walked with the others to the council chamber. He tried to read the advisors’ faces for a clue to the king’s decision, but it proved impossible. At last the chief counselor entered and handed Ezra a document. “The king addressed this letter to you,” he said. “Personally.”

“To me?” Ezra slipped his thumb beneath the Persian king’s official seal to read the letter out loud, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and dread:

“‘Artaxerxes, king of kings,

To Ezra the priest, a teacher of the Law of the God of heaven:

Greetings.

Now I decree that any of the Israelites in my kingdom, including priests and Levites, who wish to go to Jerusalem with you may go . . .’”

Ezra had to pause as a flood of emotion choked him. The king was allowing them to go! He closed his eyes and silently praised God. When he could continue, he cleared his throat, reading the blurred words through his tears.

“‘You are sent by the king and his seven advisors to inquire about Judah and Jerusalem with regard to the Law of your God, which will be in your hand.’”

He had to stop again. Not only would they be allowed to return, but they had permission to accomplish what Ezra had hoped for most—permission to govern their nation according
to the standards of the Torah. He wiped his eyes so he could continue to read.

“‘Moreover, you are to take with you the silver and gold that the king and his advisers have freely given to the God of Israel, whose dwelling is in Jerusalem . . .’”

Ezra looked up. “He’s giving us gold and silver?” he asked in astonishment.

“Yes,” the chief advisor said. “Keep reading. The letter explains why.”

“‘ . . . together with all the silver and gold you may obtain from the province of Babylon, as well as the freewill offerings of the people and priests for the temple of their God in Jerusalem.’”

“We never asked for all this,” he said to his companions. “Money from the province of Babylon, too? We wouldn’t have dared to imagine such generosity.” He cleared his throat and looked down at the letter again.

“‘With this money be sure to buy bulls, rams, and male lambs, together with their grain offerings and drink offerings, and sacrifice them on the altar of the temple of your God in Jerusalem.’”

He had to pause again. “I don’t know what I said to move the king’s heart this way. He wants to sacrifice to the Almighty One.” Ezra shook his head in speechless wonder before returning to the letter.

“‘You and your brother Jews may then do whatever seems best with the rest of the silver and gold, in accor
dance with the will of your God. Deliver to the God of Jerusalem all the articles entrusted to you for worship in the temple of your God. And anything else needed for the temple of your God that you may have occasion to supply, you may provide from the royal treasury.’”

Ezra wondered if he was dreaming. As he continued to read the letter, it explained how the king had ordered the treasurer of Trans-Euphrates Province to supply whatever Ezra asked for—enormous amounts of silver and wheat, wine, olive oil, and salt without limit. Artaxerxes claimed he wanted to gain the Holy One’s protection and favor, asking,
“Why should
there be wrath against the realm of the king and
of his sons?”
Furthermore, the priests, Levites, and temple servants would be exempt from all taxes, tribute, and duty.