Keepers of the Covenant (30 page)

“I don’t even know how to ask.”

“That’s what these sacrifices are for—so we can all plead for forgiveness. Every one of us has sinned and broken God’s law.”

“But none of you has done the terrible things I have.”

Ezra exhaled. “I see your heart, Reuben. I see how very sorry you are—and God sees it, too. Maybe if you made a sin offering of your own and confessed your sins, you would feel forgiven. You can offer a lamb or a female goat—”

“I would love to, Rebbe, but I don’t have money to buy an offering. I gave everything I had to my mother before I left Casiphia.”

“Well, once you begin your duties at the temple, you’ll be getting paid from the peoples’ tithes.”

“My duties? You can’t possibly want me to serve in the temple after what I did.”

“Of course we do! Reuben, listen to me.” He gripped Reuben’s shoulders, praying he would hear him. “There are four steps that show true repentance, and after you’ve completed
them, you are forgiven by God and by all of us. First, you need to acknowledge you’ve done wrong. You’ve done that already. Repeatedly. Second, you must be willing to confess it. You will do that when you bring your sacrifice to the priest, confessing the particular sins the sacrifice will atone for. Third, you must be willing to abandon your sin—leave it behind, walk in a brand-new direction. I think it’s safe to say you’re going to abandon stealing?” Reuben nodded. Ezra released him and patted his back. “Good. Then the fourth step is to make restitution whenever possible.”

“How do I pay back all the people I stole from in Babylon?” he asked, spreading his hands.

“You can’t. But you can live a life of generosity toward people in need from now on. Only you and God ever need to know you are repaying that debt.”

“Should I wait until I’ve earned a wage as a Levite and then make an offering?”

“Yes. And one more thing, Reuben. Once the sacrifice has burned into ashes on the altar, your sin is nothing but ashes, as well. The Holy One forgives us—and we have to believe it in faith. That means leaving our past in the past, not agonizing over it, not bringing it to life in your memory again and again. We must forget it the same way God does—‘As far as the east is from the west.’ That’s how far in the past our sins will be.”

Reuben lowered his head, staring at his feet. “Thank you, Rebbe.”

Ezra rested his hand on Reuben’s back, gently pushing him forward. “Now, come on. My family is waiting for us. And the Almighty One is waiting to forgive our people.”

J
ERUSALEM

R
euben was back in school again and eager to learn. He stood in the temple’s outer court after the morning sacrifice with the other thirty-seven Levites from Casiphia and listened as one of the chief Levites explained their duties and responsibilities. “God separated the tribe of Levi from the other eleven tribes at Mount Sinai,” he began, “and charged them with the service of God’s holy tabernacle—and now His temple. You serve in place of the firstborn sons of Israel. As you may know, our firstborn sons belong to God because He spared Israel’s firstborn during the last plague in Egypt when the firstborn sons of Pharaoh and all the other Egyptians died. Now each firstborn son must be redeemed at birth, and you Levites belong to God in their place. In the fourth book of Moses God says, ‘The Levites . . . are the Israelites who are to be wholly given to me. I have taken them as my own in place of the firstborn. . . . I have given the Levites as gifts to Aaron and his sons to do the work at the Tent of Meeting on behalf of the Israelites and to make atonement for them.’”

Reuben followed the chief Levite as he led the group on a tour around the perimeter of the temple mount, pointing out
the twenty-four locations where they were commissioned to keep watch: Levites guarded twenty-one of the posts; priests guarded the other three. One of their tasks would be to open the sanctuary doors in the morning and close them again at night. “The fourth book of Moses says we bear the responsibility for offenses against the holy sanctuary,” the chief Levite said. “This is holy ground, God’s dwelling place. Anyone other than priests and Levites who comes near the sanctuary must be put to death.”

They continued walking, then stopped again near the special platform built for the Levite singers and musicians. “Those of you who are musicians will serve here, leading the people in praise to Almighty God. Praise is an important component of worship, and we’re privileged to lead it.”

They moved on until the chief Levite halted again in front of the temple treasury. “You may know that when Moses divided the Promised Land among the sons of Israel, the tribe of Levi wasn’t given any land or inheritance. You’ll be paid from the tithes and offerings the people give to God. Their prosperity is your prosperity, their suffering is yours also.”

It occurred to Reuben the gold he would have stolen from the caravan was for the operation of the temple. He would now be paid with the treasure he had rescued and guarded for the past four months.

“The cities given to the Levites are spread throughout the land,” the man continued, “including the cities of refuge, where some of you will serve as judges. Your tribe is scattered in the midst of all the other tribes so you can set an example as God’s servants, elevating yourselves spiritually in order to lead the people to God. Our territory is much smaller than the original Promised Land divided among the sons of Israel. But the principle of living and serving among the people remains the same. Rebbe Ezra and his fellow scholars will teach you the finer points of the law in the coming months so you can help teach others.”

As Reuben listened, the role of a Levite seemed truly daunt
ing, requiring much more of him than standing guard. Even so, he was grateful to be here, grateful for the chance to begin his life again. He only wished his father could have served alongside him.

“You will also be called upon to assist the priests with the sacrifices, especially during the annual feast days when thousands of people make pilgrimages to Jerusalem. You’ll be divided into smaller groups for this part of your training and learn your duties from the priests themselves.”

Later that day, the chief Levite sent Reuben and his new Levite friend, Eli, to the House of the Weavers just below the temple mount to be fitted for their new white robes. Every step of the process took place in this enclosure, from spinning, bleaching, and dying the wool and flax, to weaving the cloth and tailoring the garments. A dozen looms of various sizes were set up in the courtyard, and the weavers worked beneath the shade of a rush roof. Most of them wove white linen cloth for the robes and other garments, but a few were making the brightly dyed sashes of purple, crimson, and blue wool the priests and Levites wore.

Reuben paused to watch, amazed by how quickly their shuttles flew. And sitting among the women like a flower among weeds was a beautiful young woman with russet-colored hair. She was much younger than the other weavers, yet obviously just as skilled. Her graceful fingers moved in perfect rhythm as she worked, and the pure white cloth grew inch by inch on the loom.

His friend Eli nudged him in the ribs, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you interested in learning to weave, Reuben? Or does that pretty girl over there interest you?”

“I was noticing how skillful she is. I wonder if I’ll ever learn to do my work that effortlessly.”

“Are you sure you didn’t also notice how pretty she is?”

Reuben gave an embarrassed grin. “Yes. I did notice that, too.”

“Why don’t you talk to her?” Eli said, nudging him again. “She isn’t married, you know.”

“How do you know that? Do you know her? What’s her name?”

Eli laughed. “I never saw her before. But I know she’s single because she isn’t wearing a head covering like married women do.”

“Oh. Of course.” That’s why Reuben had noticed her auburn hair—the other women’s heads were all covered.

“Who’s next?” the tailor called from the doorway.

Reuben went inside the building and removed his sandals to be measured. The chief Levite had explained how each robe was woven in one piece, including the hem, and would be tailored to each man’s height. He had also explained how they would perform their duties without shoes, showing reverence for the temple’s holy ground.

“You’re a tall fellow!” the tailor said. “And muscular, too. How did you get to be so strong?”

“I worked as a blacksmith in Babylon.” As he spoke the words, Reuben was surprised to discover he could recall his years with his father and be reminded of what he’d lost without anger or bitterness. His father would’ve rather Reuben inherit this calling as a Levite than to inherit his blacksmith shop. And if his uncle hadn’t sold the shop, Reuben never would’ve left Casiphia and come to Jerusalem.

“Are you planning to work as a blacksmith here, too?” the man asked as he stretched his measuring cord from Reuben’s head to his feet.

“No, I’m needed at the temple. They say there’s a shortage of Levites.”

“Your name?”

“Reuben ben David.”

“All done. You may go. Send in whoever is next.”

Reuben was nearly to the door when he turned and asked, “When should I come back for my robe?” He was thinking of the girl again and hoping he could gather his courage by then and talk to her the next time he returned.

“You don’t have to come back,” the tailor said. “We’ll deliver your new robe and other garments to the chamber of the wardrobe when they’re finished.”

“Oh . . . well, thank you.”

Back in the courtyard, Reuben was again drawn to the girl, watching her while he waited for his friend to be measured. She was slender and petite, her skin fairer in color than the other Jewish women around her. She looked up and noticed him, and he saw her cheeks flush before she quickly looked away.

The woman working alongside the girl frowned as she called to him. “Do you need something, young man?”

“No. I’m just waiting for my friend. I’ve never seen cloth being woven before.” He wished the girl would’ve spoken instead of the woman. He would’ve liked to hear what her voice sounded like. More Levites arrived to be measured, and the courtyard became crowded. Reuben’s friend emerged from the building and beckoned to him.

“You ready to go?”

No. He would’ve liked to stay longer. He could have watched the beautiful young weaver all day. He chided himself for his lack of courage as he walked back to the temple mount. He should have spoken to her, learned her name. How would he ever find her again?

Later that day, Reuben received his first wages as a Levite. He made his way to Rebbe Ezra’s tent that evening after the meal and found him sitting outside with his wife and children, writing in his journal. The summer night was warm, and the rebbe invited him to sit with them.

“I finished my first week of training as a Levite, Rebbe. They paid me today.”

“Wonderful! How are you enjoying your work?”

“I won’t officially start working until my robe is finished. I went to be measured for it today. But I think I’m going to enjoy it. Being a guard suits me.” His years of moving in the shadows,
staying alert to every little sound and movement, had prepared him well for the vigilance required as a guard, especially when he was on night duty.

“I must say you look very happy, Reuben. There’s no greater joy in life than to find and fulfill God’s purpose for you.”

“Yes, Rebbe . . . I came to talk to you because I’m going to buy a lamb for a sin offering tomorrow with my pay. I hope it will help me feel like my past is truly gone.”

“I hope so, too. Remember, we talked about how your offering isn’t accepted unless accompanied by true repentance. That means living in a way that shows gratitude. But you also need to understand you aren’t buying God’s forgiveness. You can’t buy or earn forgiveness with any amount of money or with thousands of sacrifices. It’s a gift, Reuben.”

He nodded. But he had a lot more to learn about the Almighty One and His ways. “What should I expect tomorrow, Rebbe?”

“The sacrifice will be very bloody, as you already know. Think of it as a taste of your own death as you watch. The animal dies, taking our place and showing us what we would deserve if God were to judge us. The sacrifice represents the death of our physical side and allows our spiritual nature to draw closer to God. The Hebrew word for sacrifice is
korban
, and it comes from the root word meaning ‘to come near’ or ‘to approach.’ Our ability to draw close to God is what sets us apart from the animal kingdom. We raise ourselves above their level and dedicate ourselves to Him.”

Reuben would be drawing near to the Holy One tomorrow. He couldn’t imagine it.

“You’ve seen dozens of sacrifices by now,” the rebbe continued. “You probably know that for each of the daily offerings we give portions of flour, oil, salt, and frankincense. All four parts of creation come together in worship: the priest represents humanity; the bull or the lamb represents the animal kingdom; the flour and oil come from the plant kingdom; the salt is from
the inanimate world. In God’s temple, all creation unites in harmony and worship.”

At dawn the next morning, Reuben’s hand trembled as he placed it on the lamb’s head and confessed his sins. He watched the animal die in his place. Reuben couldn’t pay back all the people he’d stolen from, but he promised God he would live generously, as the rebbe had advised him to do. As the aroma of his offering rose to heaven, Reuben was ready to start a new life, as pure and spotless as the new robe he would soon wear as he served God.

J
ERUSALEM

E
zra knew he shouldn’t feel intimidated as he prepared to face Jerusalem’s elders and chief priests—after all, he’d stood before the king of the entire Persian Empire. Yet as he entered the long, narrow throne room and walked between the rows of pillars supporting the high roof, he was under no illusion the elders gathered here would embrace him with open arms. They had welcomed him readily enough on the first day, but this would be his first official meeting with them since arriving in Jerusalem as their new governor.

He had made it his business to learn something about the elders and chief priests he would be working with, and he’d learned that Eliezer, the elderly chief priest who brought the meeting to order, was the son of Jeshua, the high priest who had returned to Jerusalem eighty years ago to rebuild the temple. The leaders sat in a semicircle while Ezra stood before them. The vacant throne of judgment where King David’s heir once held court was behind him, but Ezra would never attempt to occupy such an honored seat.

“I don’t mean to seem impertinent,” Eliezer began, “but who are you to come to Jerusalem and tell us what to do?”

Ezra remained calm. “Are you asking for my credentials, my ancestry, or my authorization?” When no one replied he said, “I served with the men of the Great Assembly in Babylon as their youngest member. As you may know, that esteemed body of men spent years studying the Torah and issuing rulings on how to apply it to our everyday lives. I am a descendant of Aaron from the tribe of Levi. My ancestors served as high priests in Solomon’s temple from the time it was built until it was destroyed. Would you like their names?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Ezra usually avoided confrontations like this, preferring the solitude of his studies. But being forced to explain himself angered him and fueled his courage. This time, no matter how intimidated he felt, he wouldn’t try to back away from the task of leadership God had given him like he had before the Thirteenth of Adar. “You’ve all seen a copy of King Artaxerxes’ decree,” he continued, “authorizing me to govern. I didn’t seek this position. When I petitioned the Persian king to allow our people to return home, I hoped to serve as a priest like my forefathers. Nevertheless, the king commissioned me to lead, and he appointed me governor. I intend to lead to the very best of my ability—God helping me.”

Eliezer’s smile looked cold and insincere. “The regional governor of Trans-Euphrates won’t be happy to hear of your appointment. We’ve dealt with him and his royal satraps in the past, and they’ll view this as a loss of their authority and power over the territory of Judah.”

“That’s exactly what it is. And I didn’t expect them to be happy about giving up their sovereignty. Nor will they be pleased when they learn the king’s decree requires the treasurers of Trans-Euphrates to supply whatever finances I ask for. I’ll be delivering the king’s orders to the royal satraps and governors in the coming weeks and making my requests. If any of you wish to join my delegation, you’re welcome to do so.” Ezra wasn’t
surprised when no one accepted his offer. They seemed prepared to throw him to the Gentile rulers all by himself.

“It seems to us,” one of the elders said, “that if authority is granted to govern the province of Judah, it should be Prince Eliakim, Prince Zerubbabel’s grandson and heir. Shouldn’t he represent us and govern us instead of you?”

Ezra knew exactly which man in the gathering was Prince Eliakim, heir to the throne of King David. But the fact that he hadn’t chosen to sit on the throne or to question Ezra himself indicated the elders and chief priests were the real power behind the puppet prince, a power they seemed reluctant to relinquish. Ezra gave a slight bow in deference to Prince Eliakim before replying. “I’ve looked into this matter, and it’s my understanding that the governor of Trans-Euphrates has ruled over Judah ever since Prince Zerubbabel died. The Persians no longer recognize the right of his heir or our royal family to rule in his place—am I correct?” The prince nodded, conceding it was true. “I specifically asked King Artaxerxes to allow Judah’s kings to govern instead of me, but he refused. So here we are. This is the way it will be for now.”

“Are you moving into the governor’s residence?” the prince asked. “And living here?”

The question surprised Ezra. “No, I intend to build a house for my family just like all the other men who’ve returned with me.”

“That would be a mistake, Rebbe Ezra,” the chief elder said. “If you want to legitimize your claim as ruler—”

“This decree I’m carrying legitimizes my authority to rule,” Ezra said, waving his copy of the decree.

“Yes. You’ve made that clear,” the elder said. “But in the eyes of Judah’s neighbors and the people of this land, you will need to make a conscious display of that authority by living here. This hall will serve as a place to conduct court business and meetings with other officials. The banquet hall and your staff of servants
will provide a place to offer hospitality on behalf of our nation. Of course, if your wife is willing to cook for a delegation of royal satraps all by herself, we won’t stand in her way.”

Ezra tugged on his beard. He had always resisted the trappings of power and privilege when he’d served as the leader of the Jewish community in Babylon. But in this instance, he knew he would have to concede. “Very well. I’ll move my family into this residence if that’s what you advise. But I want to make it clear I will not be asking the Persians for political nationhood. For now, Judah continues to be a province in the Persian Empire. I’m here to forge a
spiritual
nation
.
To govern this province by the laws given in the Torah.”

Ezra hoped the questioning would end soon so he could get on with his business. He hated the political maneuvering of secular leadership and had little patience for it. But these men would serve in his administration in the coming days, and he needed them as allies, not enemies. What’s more, the Holy One was “compassionate and gracious, slow to anger,” and Ezra’s public life, as well as his personal life, needed to measure up to that ideal. But Eliezer wasn’t finished with his questions.

“I see the Persian king’s decree commands you to ‘instruct those who don’t know the law.’ How do you intend to do that?”

“By doing what I know how to do best—teaching. I’m hoping there are priests and Levites among us who are well-versed in the law and who’ll be able to assist me in this. If not, I will have to instruct the teachers first. I also intend to appoint judges—men who are masters of the law and can sit alone in judgment—and laymen magistrates who can preside over civil cases in tribunals.”

“How far do you intend to exercise your authority outside of Jerusalem?” someone asked. Ezra recognized the man as a self-proclaimed tribal chieftain from Keilah, who currently governed a group of villages in that region. He likely saw Ezra as a threat.

“I intend to travel to every town and village within the borders of the province of Judah. I understand they extend from Jericho
and the Jordan River in the east, to Azekah in the west, to Bethel in the north, and to Keilah and Kiriath-arba in the south. The teachers and magistrates I appoint will cover the same territory. Anyone wishing to continue as an elder or a leader—and of course as a priest—will need to know the Torah thoroughly and follow it to the letter.”

The more Ezra spoke, the more disturbed Eliezer seemed to become. The elderly priest had all he could do to remain seated, and when he finally spoke, his voice rose to nearly a shout. “Come now, Rebbe Ezra! Let’s be practical. Do you honestly expect all the people in Judah to obey you?”

“No, I expect them to obey the Almighty One. I’m hoping they’ll do so willingly, especially when they see the blessings He promised for those who keep His covenant.”

“But there are Gentiles living among us—Samaritans and mixed-race peoples and Edomite clans who’ve migrated north to settle in Judean territory over the years. How are you going to make them obey? Are you prepared to enforce the part of the king’s decree that says whoever doesn’t obey will be punished by death, banishment, confiscation of property, or imprisonment?”

“The people of Judah and the other provinces have been forced to comply with Persian law for some time now. That hasn’t changed—and neither has the punishment they inflict on lawbreakers. As God’s covenant people, we Jews have always been responsible for living according to His law—that hasn’t changed since the day Moses received it on Mount Sinai. Nor have the punishments spelled out in the Torah changed.

“As for the Gentiles . . .” He paused, remembering the pagans who had slaughtered his brother. “The Holy One promised the Gentiles would be blessed through us. Perhaps this decree is a fulfillment of that promise, because if the Gentiles obey God, He promises to bless even them.” Although Ezra admitted only to himself his doubt that the pagan Gentiles would ever turn to God. In fact, his continuing hatred and distrust made him
hope every last Gentile would retreat from his province when they learned about the high standards they would have to live up to under the law.

Ezra looked around, trying to gauge the men’s reactions. The chief priest was clearly disturbed about something, but he seemed to have run out of questions for now. Some of the men actually looked pleased with what Ezra had told them so far. “If you have no further questions, gentlemen, I have one of my own. Where are we in the schedule of tithing and the Sabbath years?”

“What do you mean?” Eliezer asked. “The people have been bringing a tithe of their grain, new wine, and oil, as well as the firstborn of their herds and flocks to the temple every year since we rebuilt it.”

“Good. But every third year, the tithes are to be stored in the towns and villages so they can be distributed to the Levites and to the poor, the fatherless, and widows. And every seventh year the land is to be given a rest. We are forbidden to sow or prune or reap our land during the Sabbath year. And after seven Sabbaths, the Lord declares a Year of Jubilee.”

“Nothing like that was established when our ancestors returned and rebuilt the temple,” Eliezer said.

“Then it needs to be. One of the indictments against our ancestors leading to our exile was their failure to give the land a rest. God allowed us to be carried into captivity so the land would finally have its Sabbaths. We need to calculate the years back to the last known Year of Jubilee and figure out where we are in the cycle. And proper tithing must begin at once.”

“The people are poor, Rebbe Ezra. The additional burden of not planting and harvesting every seven years will be crippling. You can’t expect to enforce this—”

“Perhaps they’re poor because they haven’t been giving the Almighty One His tithe. You know the covenant curses for disobedience: ‘Your basket and your kneading trough will be cursed. The fruit of your womb will be cursed and the crops of
your land, and the calves of your herds and the lambs of your flocks.’ But prosperity and blessing are promised to those who obey God. If we carefully follow all His commands, ‘the Lord your God will set you high above all the nations on earth. All these blessings will come upon you and accompany you if you obey the Lord your God.’”

Some of the men shook their heads. Most looked skeptical. Why couldn’t they understand this? “Do you believe God sovereignly controls nature?” Ezra asked. “And it is God who makes our crops flourish and brings famine?”

“Yes, of course, but—”

“Then why can’t you trust God and follow His command to give the land a Sabbath rest?” No one replied. But if these men, Judah’s elders and chief priests, didn’t understand this basic principle, Ezra knew he was going to have a lot of work ahead of him to teach everyone else.

“Our service and our worship of the Holy One doesn’t just take place in the temple, gentlemen. God wants us to give Him sovereignty over
every
area of our lives. We need to obey every word of God—not just because we want His blessings or we fear His judgment, but because His instructions are the very best way to live in this precarious, turbulent world. We are to be His example to the nations. Do we all understand that?” He waited, but no one spoke. “Good. Then let’s get to work on this calendar issue right away in obedience to the Almighty One.”