He wandered into the valley of cheese makers and back up to the canopied stalls with baskets of barley and wheat, jars of oil and jugs of wine, bins of olives and baskets of early figs. Combs of golden honey dripped into bowls, while nearby another merchant called out balm for sale.
Rug merchants and basket weavers called out to him as he passed. A tentmaker haggled with a customer.
Jerusalem was, indeed, a city of wealth and commerce. The people seemed to want for nothing. What they lacked had little to do with the body and everything to do with the heart and soul. All their strength was spent on what they could hold in their hands.
Pausing, Amos listened to a young man play a lyre for a customer while his father attached strings to a kinnor. The customer pointed to a beautifully carved ten-string nebel displayed alongside a row of bone pipes. The boy picked it up and began to play it. At a signal, the boy handed the instrument to his father. He allowed the customer to hold it, pluck the strings, and stroke the carved wood. Amos picked up some reed pipes and admired them. The lust to own would seal the bargain. He put them down quickly and walked away.
Amos went through a gate and down a pathway. Weary, he sat in the shade of a mustard plant and leaned against a wall. Hyssop grew from between the stones. Across from him was the Mount of Olives. It was quiet here, quiet enough to think, though pondering what he had just seen was the last thing he wanted to do. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
“I see sin, Lord.” Enticing, tempting, seeming to delight and bring satisfaction. “I see it. I see!”
Pride promised pleasure and security, but would bring despair and death instead.
Amos walked home in the moonlight. He went to the fold and entered by the narrow gate, walking quietly among the animals, checking each one. When the sun rose, he would let them out into the south pasture. Soon, it would be time to lead them away from Tekoa. One of the lambs heard his voice and came to him quickly, pressing against his leg. Amos hunkered down. “Yes, I’m home, little one.” He rubbed the lamb’s face.
Go prophesy to My people Israel.
Confused, Amos stood. “Israel?” He spread his hands, looking up at the sky.
“The northern kingdom, Lord? Samaria?”
Go to Bethel.
Why would God send him to speak to the ten tribes who had broken away from Solomon’s son Rehoboam? Hadn’t they followed after Jeroboam the son of Nebat, foreman of Solomon’s workforce? Why not call one from among the ten rebellious tribes to prophesy to their breakaway nation?
“I told my brothers I had seen visions, Lord. They didn’t believe me! They thought I was drunk or suffered delirium.”
The lamb bleated. The flock sensed his turbulent emotions and moved, restless, nervous.
“Shhhhh. It’s all right, sheep.” Amos lifted the lamb. He moved slowly among his animals, speaking softly, soothing their fears. He set the lamb down and moved to the gate. Drawing his reed pipe from his belt, he played whatever sweet melody came to mind. The sheep settled again.
Amos looked up at the stars. Before the visions began, he had believed that God didn’t notice him or what he did or thought. Now, he realized God saw and knew everything. Still, Amos didn’t understand why God would call a poor shepherd—a simple, ordinary man—to speak the Word of the Lord.
My love is unfailing and everlasting. I will be with you wherever you go.
You love me, and yet You send me north with a message of destruction. Even as he wanted to question, Amos knew why. God had filled him with understanding, and was sending him to call His lambs back from destruction.
Had God ever given a prophet a message the people wanted to hear? a message they welcomed and celebrated? Perhaps Israel would listen this time. Even to a shepherd. Why wouldn’t they, when the visions God had given him showed the destruction of enemies that surrounded them? They would celebrate just as he had, before he understood that the sins of Judah were not hidden from God’s clear and holy gaze. Wealthy, powerful Israel would gloat even more over the judgment upon the nations, and probably gloat over the destruction of their Judean brothers as well, for then, Samaria would become the city on the mountain.
Or would it?
Solomon’s foreman had crowned himself King Jeroboam the First, with dreams of a dynasty to follow. To carry that out, he had abolished the Levitical priesthood and established his own. He had turned the people away from Jerusalem by setting up golden calves for them to worship in Bethel and Dan!
They do all these things, Lord, and yet, Judah is to be destroyed? How can I say these things? How can I leave my own people and go to them? Judah! What of Judah?
You will be My prophet in Israel. My Spirit will come upon you, and you will speak the Word of the Lord.
Amos felt the weight of his calling, and went down on his hands and knees to plead with God. “I’m not a city dweller, Lord. You know that. I’m a shepherd. A man of flocks and fields. I hate going to Jerusalem and now you want me to go to Bethel, a place even more corrupt? I’ve done everything I could to stay away from cities. I can’t bear being around so many people. And the noise, the confusion is unbearable to me. I’m just a shepherd.”
I am your Shepherd, Amos. Will you obey Me?
Though the words came softly and full of tenderness, Amos knew the course of his life lay in the answer. “I am not worthy.”
I have called you by name. You are mine.
“But, Lord, You need someone who will make them listen. You need a powerful speaker. You need someone who knows the Law. You need someone who will know how to persuade them to do what You want.” He bowed his head, ashamed. “You need someone who loves them, Lord. And I don’t care what happens to them!”
I don’t need anyone, My child. I want you. Go to Bethel, Amos. My grace is all you need. I will tell you when to speak and what to say.
Grieving, Amos hung his head. “What about my sheep, Lord? How can I entrust them to hirelings?” He looked up, gulping sobs. “My sheep.” Tears ran down his cheeks. “No one loves them as I do.”
A quiet breeze blew softly through the winter grass, and God whispered:
Feed My sheep.
Amos slept fitfully at the gate of the sheepfold, wakening before dawn. He sat on the wall and gazed at his animals. He knew the traits and personalities of every one of them. He had saved one from a ledge, another from the attack of a lion, another from floodwaters of a wadi. Some stayed close, never venturing far from the flock, while others were prone to wander. Some learned quickly, while others seem destined to get themselves into trouble with every new pasture. His heart ached because he loved them.
“Feed My sheep,” the Lord had said last night as dusk came upon the land.
“Forgive me, Lord, but I care more for these animals than I have ever cared for people. Men take care of themselves. They do what they want. Sheep are helpless without a shepherd.”
Even as he said the words aloud, he wondered if they were true. He saw things differently this morning. Maybe it was the visions of destruction that haunted his thoughts.
“Feed My sheep.”
Were men like sheep? He had always thought of them as wolves or lions or bears . . . especially priests who could make life miserable if they so chose, and even tear it apart. But what of the common people, men and women like him who wanted to do what was right, but often ended up doing what was expedient? He had been taught never to argue with a priest, but his heart had often raged within him.
He turned toward the north, thinking of Bethel. This city of the northern kingdom was not that far away—only eleven miles—but it seemed a distant country. His journeys had kept him in the pastures of Judah and Benjamin’s territory, always circling him back home to Tekoa. Bethel was the last place he wanted to go. But he would have no peace until he obeyed the Lord.
In the cool of the morning, Amos spotted Elkanan and Ithai as they led their flocks out to pasture. Amos remained on the wall of his fold, watching his nephews with the floc
ks he had started for them. What he saw pleased him. Stepping down, Amos opened the gate and led his sheep out. Elkanan and Ithai saw him and raised their hands in greeting. Amos headed toward them.
Elkanan greeted him warmly. “Uncle!”
As soon as Elkanan withdrew, Ithai embraced him as well. “You spend less time in Jerusalem each year.” Ithai laughed.
Jerusalem. Sorrow gripped Amos as the vision came flooding back. Jerusalem! How long had he despaired at what he saw there. Never had he felt such a wave of sorrow as he did now with dark wrenching memories of the future.
He stayed with his nephews for the rest of the day, listening to their stories of predators thwarted, sick lambs tended, wandering sheep found, sheepfolds expanded to accommodate more animals. Amos understood. Rather than go out alone with their flocks, they had stayed together, sharing the burden of tending the sheep.
His moment came to speak. “I have been called away.”
Elkanan glanced at him. “Away? When? Where?”
“Before sunrise tomorrow.” He leaned heavily on his staff and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Add my flock to yours and tend them as I would.”
Elkanan looked at the sheep and then at Amos. “Should we stay here in Tekoa until you return, Uncle?”
“No. Take them to fresh pastures. The pastures of Jericho are open to you. If Jashobeam questions you, tell him these are my sheep. I paid for grazing rights by working in his sycamore groves. If I have not returned by the time you come back here to winter the flocks, take only the best lambs to Jerusalem.”
His pulse raced suddenly, as he remembered the Lord roaring like a lion inside his head. “Whatever you do, do it as the Lord would have you do it. Do what is right, no matter what others do. Run from evil.”
Elkanan stared. “What’s happened, Uncle?”
“The Lord has shown me what will happen to us if we don’t repent and turn back to Him.”
A flood of questions came from his nephews. Amos found solace that they did not suggest he rest. They did not tell him to eat something so that he would feel like himself again. “Sin brings death, my sons. Do what is right. Convince your fathers of this. God sees what men do. He knows their hearts. Do what is right and live.”
“We will tell them, Uncle.”
They seemed troubled. Even if they could be convinced, would Ahiam and Bani listen? Amos doubted it. Bani might consider turning away from the business practices that had made him prosper, but not for long. Ahiam would wear him down and turn him back to worshiping profits. Amos remembered how his father’s conscience had suffered. But Ahiam and Bani had lived most of their lives in the shadow of the Temple among corrupt priests that saw nothing wrong with what they did. Now, they equated their increasing wealth to God’s blessing on what they did.
“Uncle? Why are you crying?”
Amos struggled against the emotions overwhelming him, and tried to keep his voice steady. “I must go to Bethel.” He headed across the field.
“Bethel! But, Uncle . . . how long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know.” A few weeks, Lord? A month? A year?
Silence.
Maybe it was better not to know.
* * *
THREE
* * *
Amos camped in the hills near Bethel. He could see lamplight on the wall and knew soldiers were stationed in the watchtowers.
Bethel! After stealing Esau’s birthright, Jacob had fled and stopped to rest here, using a stone for a pillow. In his vision, he saw a ladder to heaven with angels going up and down, and God had made a covenant with him. No wonder Jeroboam I had claimed this city to start his new religion. Even having been delivered from Egypt, the Israelites had quickly returned to the pagan worship of their oppressors while Moses was on top of Mount Sinai receiving the Law of God. Jeroboam had seduced the ten northern tribes with the same god—a golden calf. And the people wanted convenience. Why walk eleven miles to Jerusalem to worship the true God three times a year, when there was another god right here in Bethel? Jeroboam had known the people well. He gave them what they wanted: empty idols made by human hands and the illusion of control over their own lives.
Jeroboam, a goat leading the sheep to slaughter. He knew what places meant the most to the people and claimed them. Another golden calf resided in Gilgal where the Israelites had crossed the Jordan River after forty years of wandering in the wilderness. Gilgal, the place where the people of Israel had reconsecrated themselves to God and celebrated the first Passover in Canaan; the place where they had eaten the first fruit of the land after forty years of manna. And now it, too, stood defiled by pagan worship. Even Beersheba, where God first made promises of blessing to Abraham, then Isaac, and finally Jacob, was now a major place of worship for Jeroboam’s unholy religion.
Amos slept uneasily and awakened in darkness. He rose and went down the hill to the road and followed it up to the gates of Bethel where he waited until morning. Merchants arrived with their goods, ignoring the beggars who approached them. Some of the poor had little more than a tunic to keep them warm. When the gates were opened, Amos tensely moved among the crowds making their way to the center of the city where Jeroboam’s temple stood, housing the golden calf.
The mount was an anthill of activity with pilgrims carrying their offerings up and into the temple. Neophyte priests dressed in fine linen ephods stood greeting them as they entered. Not one Levite stood among them, for Jeroboam I had abolished the rightful priesthood and established his own. All a man needed to become a priest was one young bull and seven rams! And who with the means would not pay it when all the benefits of priesthood could so enrich a man and his family? Power, wealth, and prestige came with the post, and the ability to strip the people of whatever they decided was a “proper offering” to stay in the good graces of Jeroboam’s false and capricious gods.
Having driven even the faithful Levites from the northern cities, no one remained to teach people the truth.
“Alms for the blind . . . ,” a man whined at the bottom of the steps, a small woven basket in his hand. He held it out at the sound of people passing. “Alms for the blind. Have pity on me.”
Amos paused to look into his face. The man’s eyes were opaque, his face brown and lined from years in the sun. He was clothed in rags, and his gnarled hands revealed that blindness was not his only infirmity. Amos had brought only a few shekels with him. He took one from his pouch and leaned down. “May the Lord have compassion on you.” Amos placed the coin in the basket.
The man’s fingers fumbled over the coin as he declared his thanks.
As Amos went up the steps, he watched priests take gifts of money and tuck them into their personal purses. One put his hand out as Amos came level with him. Amos looked at him in contempt.
The priest stiffened. “Those who do not give to god cannot expect blessing.”
“I will not receive a blessing from your god.” Amos started to walk by.
“Indeed not if you are so ungracious and ungrateful. You will have a curse on your head. . . .”
Pausing, Amos turned and gazed deeply into the man’s eyes. “Woe to you, false priest. You already live under a curse of your own making.” Turning his back on him, Amos walked into the temple.
He moved with the others, watchful, taking in everything. Were men so eager to be fleeced? Amos went as far as the inner corridor and stood aside. Leaning on his staff, he watched and listened to men and women murmuring incoherently as they moved forward, intent upon seeing the golden calf in which they placed their hope. Some carried small woven prayer rugs that they unrolled and knelt upon in comfort. They raised their hands and bowed in adoration before the horned altar. They sang songs of praise. Priests waved incense burners. The streaks of cloying gray smoke made a cloud over the worshipers held there by a fog of lies.
And there stood their god in all its glory. Did these people really believe that bloodless empty statue could answer prayers?
So it seemed.
These Israelite brothers no longer knew the difference between righteousness and blasphemy. How was it possible to put such ardent faith in that great hunk of hollow gold, molded and shaped by a man? That calf couldn’t help itself, let alone do anything for them! Men without God put their trust in a spider’s web, not even knowing they had been captured and bound. Everything these people counted upon to keep them safe would fall, pulling them down with it.
Musicians strummed lyres and kinnors. Priests chanted.
A woman rushed tearfully to her husband, displaying a talisman sold to her by a priest. “He says we will have a child. . . .”
A man, sallow and gaunt, had paid for a spell to be cast so that he would be healed of his troubles.
Amos followed a father and son out of the temple. “I’ve already put in my request, Son. You will be well pleased with the one I have chosen. Since it is your birthday, you will go first, and I will wait my turn.”
When they went into another building next door, Amos followed. As he entered the door, he heard laughter. Men and women lounged in a room off to his right. Someone strummed a lyre.
A girl dressed in finery, her dark eyes made up with Egyptian kohl, rose to greet him. Her smile did not reach her eyes. “Come with me.” Bells tinkled as she walked.
Amos didn’t move. “What is this place?”
She turned and stared at him. “The temple brothel.” When her expression became curious, it was the first sign of life in her face. “Do you prefer boys?”
“Boys?”
She shrugged. “Some do.”
Amos left the house quickly. He crossed the courtyard and stood in the shadows of a temple wall. A vision came back: the screams of the dying, the smoke, bodies sprawled in the streets. Leaning heavily on his staff, he bowed his head. Now, Lord? Do I speak now?