On This Foundation

  “I’m with you,” Ephraim said. “All the way.”

  “Me too.” Hanani encircled Nehemiah’s shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.

  The wall was still in ruins, the job was immense. And for a moment, Nehemiah wondered if he truly did have the skills he would need to do this. He had seen firsthand the enormity of the task he faced: removing tons of rubble and rebuilding miles of crumbled walls, not to mention organizing thousands of unskilled men into a competent labor force. And he would have to accomplish it all before his enemies had a chance to stop him. But in spite of his doubts and fears, Nehemiah knew that the Almighty One was with him. And he had never imagined that he could feel so happy.

  Part II

  Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins

  and will raise up the age-old foundations;

  you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,

  Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

  ISAIAH 58:12

  Chapter

  17

  JERUSALEM

  Chana pulled a fist-sized lump of dough from the bowl and absently rolled it in her hands to form a ball. All morning, she’d been unable to stop thinking about the governor’s speech and his determination to rebuild Jerusalem’s wall. If only he had come a year sooner, his wall might have saved Yitzhak’s life. She would be a married woman by now, perhaps holding a child in her arms. The excitement she’d felt the morning Nehemiah explained his plan still sent shivers through her. The community would work together as one people. Every man in Jerusalem had volunteered to help, and she longed to join in this great work.

  As she patted the dough between her palms to flatten it, she suddenly stopped, her task forgotten as an idea began to form. She chased the idea down different paths in her mind, asking “What if?” and “Why not?” And the seed of the idea slowly grew into a conviction of what she must do.

  “Chana!” One of her sisters threw a pistachio at her from across the courtyard, barely missing her head. “Your bread is burning!”

  She dropped the unbaked dough into the bowl and quickly yanked the burning flatbread from the stone griddle. Too late. The scorched bottom was as black as night.

  “What’s wrong with you this morning?” Yudit asked. “You’re sitting here, but your mind may as well be in Susa.”

  “I’ve been thinking about something,” Chana said.

  “Getting engaged to Malkijah?”

  “No. Not that.” Although she could easily imagine herself living in his beautiful home, enjoying the luxury of servants, being free from the need to bake bread on steamy summer days like this one. She retrieved the new round of flattened dough and laid it on the hot stone, determined to watch it this time. “I’ll tell you what my idea is, but you have to promise you won’t laugh. And you can’t tell Abba about it until I’m ready to tell him. Promise?”

  “This sounds intriguing,” Yudit said. She and Sarah left their work and hurried over to where Chana crouched beside the hearth. “We promise.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the speech our new governor gave the other day, and about his plan to rebuild the wall.”

  “That was so inspiring, wasn’t it?” Sarah said. “I never heard such a fine speech in my life.”

  “It was,” Chana admitted. “I wasn’t expecting to be impressed by Governor Nehemiah, but I have to admit that I was. He acted so cold the night he came to dinner, but his speech was very impassioned and inspiring. I think he galvanized our people like no other leader has since Moses.”

  “Every man in Jerusalem is ready to sign up to help,” Yudit said.

  “So what’s your idea?” Sarah asked.

  “I’m going to ask Abba to let me help him rebuild his section of the wall.”

  “What!” Yudit looked at her as if she were crazy. Sarah’s mouth fell open in surprise.

  “Abba is overseeing the section between the Tower of the Ovens and the Valley Gate, and it’s up to him to recruit volunteers. I’m going to volunteer.”

  “You’ve come up with some crazy ideas,” Yudit said, “but building a wall? That’s outrageous, even for you.”

  “Why? I think it makes perfect sense. All the young men in the city signed up to help their fathers, but Abba doesn’t have any sons to help him. I want to show my support and do my part.”

  “You mean, actually work?” Yudit asked. “Lifting stones . . . and building a wall?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. Listen, when Governor Nehemiah gave the example of the tabernacle, he said that everyone contributed—men and women, young people and old. Why shouldn’t women take part in this project, too?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Yudit said. “I think it would be wonderful to work together as one people the way the governor described it.”

  “Then I want to help, too,” Sarah said. “But I don’t think Abba will ever let us do it.”

  Chana sighed as she turned the round of bread over to bake on the other side. “That’s what worries me, too. But I’m going to tell him that there’s a precedent for it in the Torah. We’ll be just like Zelophehad’s daughters.”

  “Like who?”

  “I’ll explain it later. Abba will be here any minute, and I don’t want him to overhear us. I’ll tell him my idea after we eat, when he’s sure to be in a good mood. You have to keep quiet until then.”

  Their father arrived home from the evening sacrifice a few minutes later, and Yudit rushed to greet him with a cup of cold water. Sarah offered a basin of water to rinse his feet. They gave him extra portions at dinner and filled his wine cup a second time. Chana’s sisters treated him so royally that she worried he would become suspicious. At last he pushed away his plate and leaned back in his chair with a look of contentment. “You girls seem especially happy tonight,” he said. “Even you, Chana.”

  “I am, Abba.”

  She was about to begin the speech she had planned when he said, “Good. Then may I discuss something with you?”

  She was thrown off balance for a moment, but replied, “Certainly, Abba.”

  “Would you two girls give us a moment alone, please?” he asked Yudit and Sarah. They went into the house, but Chana knew they would listen to every word.

  “Malkijah asked me about a betrothal today. He wants to sign a ketubah. What do you say, my angel?”

  “I . . . I need a little more time.”

  “Chana. He has been very patient with you, but it isn’t fair to ask him to wait any longer. If you aren’t interested, then it’s time to set him free so he can look elsewhere for a wife.”

  Abba was right. She had no reason to delay any longer. She admired Malkijah and believed she could be content with him. She would be useful in his household. The night she’d visited his estate, she’d seen that he needed a wife, someone to speak on behalf of his servants and remind him to show mercy. And leaving Jerusalem would mean leaving the painful reminders of the past. Maybe she would find healing in the beautiful hills of Beth Hakkerem. Maybe even joy. Maybe the Almighty One would bless her with a child someday.

  “I will agree to a betrothal, Abba—”

  “Wonderful! That’s wonderful news, my angel! You won’t be sorry.”

  “But not yet. There’s something I need to do first, and I’m afraid Malkijah won’t allow it once we’re betrothed.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want to help you rebuild the wall.”

  “Help me? What do you mean?”

  “I heard the governor’s speech, Abba. He’s right, our city is in disgrace. I want to help you repair your section of the wall. I want to rebuild right alongside you. Yudit and Sarah do, too.”

  Abba laughed, but it was a nervous laugh, without mirth. “Is this a joke, my angel?”

  “No. All the other leaders have sons to work beside them, and we want to work with you.”

  “Be sensible, Chana. How can I allow such a thing? I’m a leader—”

  “All the more reason to let us do it. You’ll set an
example. How can men refuse to work when the leader of the half-district of Jerusalem has three daughters who are doing their part? It will put them all to shame.”

  “I fear that I am the one who will be put to shame—along with the three of you. Rebuilding the wall is a man’s job. It most certainly isn’t something for women to do.”

  “What about the daughters of Zelophehad? Remember the story? Zelophehad didn’t have any sons, so Moses agreed that his daughters could inherit his portion of land. We’re like sons to you, and we want to have a share in what all the people are doing.”

  “I don’t think it’s the same thing, Chana.”

  Desperation made her reveal her deepest motive. “Listen, if I could just do this one thing—pile stones into a wall and build a fortress to keep out murderers like the men who killed Yitzhak, maybe I’ll be able to heal from his death. Then I’ll be ready to accept Malkijah’s proposal.”

  “Are you bribing me, my angel?”

  She managed a small smile. “If that’s what it takes.”

  “And what will happen when Malkijah sees the woman he hopes to marry working on the wall like a common laborer? Have you thought of that? He will be outraged. I wouldn’t blame him if he changes his mind about you.”

  “Then maybe it’s better that he learns what I’m like now, before we’re betrothed. Better that he knows I have my own mind, and that I’m not afraid to speak it. If he’s outraged that I want to support my father and rebuild my city, then I don’t want to marry him.”

  “I’ll have to think about this.”

  The door to the house opened and Yudit and Sarah poured out like water spilled from a jar, unable to keep quiet a moment longer. “Please let us do this, Abba, please,” Yudit said.

  “You want to build the wall, too, Yudit? Truly? What will Alon think? I thought you were interested in him?”

  “I don’t care what he thinks. Or what anyone else thinks.”

  “I also want to help,” Sarah said.

  “Sarah? My little cherub? . . . Did your sisters talk you into this?”

  “Not at all. I think it’s exciting. I’ll finally get to do something besides cook and do boring housework all day. It’ll be fun to be part of something this big.”

  Abba took both of Chana’s hands in his. “How are you going to lift heavy stones with these delicate hands? How can I bear to see your fingers smashed and scraped and bruised?”

  “There must be plenty of other tasks we can do besides lift stones. The important thing is that we’ll be there, alongside you and the other workers, doing our part.”

  “Please don’t say no,” Yudit said. “Please let us do it.”

  “Yes, please, Abba,” Sarah echoed.

  Chana could see his indecision. He released her hands and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “This isn’t fair,” he said. “You know I can’t say no to my girls.”

  “Then don’t. Say yes, instead.”

  “Everyone in the province of Judah is helping,” Yudit said.

  “Every man, maybe. I daresay my daughters will be the only women.”

  “You should be very proud of us for that,” Chana said.

  Abba gave a tired groan. “I must be crazy for saying this, but . . . I’ll try to find something for you to do. But only—”

  “Thank you, Abba!” They fell all over him, hugging him, kissing his cheeks.

  “But only on a trial basis,” he said, trying in vain to fend them off. “Maybe you can bring lunch or water for my workers . . .”

  “Maybe move a few small stones?” Chana asked.

  “We’ll see.”

  Chana laughed and kissed him again. For the first time in a very long time, she felt truly happy.

  “Now, what about Malkijah?” he asked when they finally finished hugging him. “Can I give him an answer about your betrothal? Are you ready for me to arrange a ketubah?”

  “I-I guess you and Malkijah can arrange a ketubah. As long as our engagement isn’t official until after we help rebuild the wall.” But Chana couldn’t help but feel a tiny shiver of misgiving at the finality of the decision.

  Chapter

  18

  SAMARIA

  Tobiah had a lot of time to ponder what his next move should be as he left his Ammonite capital early in the morning for the long journey to Samaria on horseback. His new enemy, Nehemiah, had proven to be more dangerous than Tobiah had ever imagined. In a single act of political genius, Judah’s new governor had proposed to rebuild Jerusalem’s wall, igniting flames of patriotism and religious fervor and uniting his deeply divided population.

  The long drought made fording the Jordan River easier than usual, and as Tobiah crossed into Judean territory, his anger burned as hot as the summer sun. This territory should be his, not Nehemiah’s. He had invested years of hard work currying favor among the Judean leaders and priests, laboring to help solve Judah’s many economic and security problems. His goal was to forge an alliance between Judah and Ammon, with himself as the leader. But he was no longer the savior they’d been waiting for—Nehemiah was.

  Tobiah knew he needed help in ridding the province of this new threat. His allies, Sanballat and Geshem, must have heard the news by now that Nehemiah was fortifying Jerusalem. If not, Tobiah needed to warn them. Afterward, on the way home, Tobiah would make a secret visit to Jerusalem to speak with the powerful noblemen he knew on the council and among the priests. Surely not everyone in Judah welcomed their new governor and his ambitions with open arms.

  The heat had nearly exhausted Tobiah and his small retinue of men by the time they reached Sanballat’s hilltop palace in Samaria. But Tobiah didn’t waste any time before conferring with his allies. “Why the urgent message to meet with Geshem and me?” Sanballat asked after his servants had closed the door on their private meeting. “I assume this must be very serious to summon us to a second visit so soon after the first?” The Samaritan leader’s face looked flushed and overheated in spite of the servants who continually fanned him with palm branches. Tobiah wondered if his news would give the heavy man a fit of apoplexy.

  “It is serious. I sent two of my men to visit my son in Jerusalem with orders to follow Judah’s new governor. Jehohanan even managed to be appointed as one of Nehemiah’s aides. They found out what his agenda is and why he came to Jerusalem.” Tobiah paused, waiting to see if they already knew. It appeared they didn’t. Tobiah’s robe clung to his sweaty back as he sat forward in his seat. “Nehemiah has drawn up plans to rebuild Jerusalem’s wall. He has the full support of the people. The work will begin immediately.”

  “He’s fortifying the city?” Geshem asked. “Why?”

  “Don’t be naïve,” Sanballat said. “Why does any leader build walls and citadels? He wants freedom. Power. Self-sufficiency.”

  “The letters Nehemiah showed us from Susa didn’t say anything about building a fortress, did they?” Tobiah asked. He wished now that he had studied the letters more carefully instead of trying to show his disrespect by ignoring them. “But since that’s what he’s doing, he’s obviously going behind King Artaxerxes’ back.”

  “I agree,” Sanballat said. “The Persian king couldn’t have known what Nehemiah intended, or he never would have allowed it. A fortified city is the first step toward rebellion, a necessity for an independent nation. We need to send a message to King Artaxerxes immediately.”

  “What else did your informants tell you?” Geshem asked. His anger was clear in his dark frown, his incessant pacing. He had risen from his chair at Tobiah’s news, as if already imagining how an independent province of Judah would threaten his trade monopoly.

  “It seems Nehemiah gave a speech at the temple in front of all the leaders and priests and people,” Tobiah continued. “According to my son, he mesmerized them and rallied them into action. There was a stampede to volunteer for his massive building project. Everyone is getting involved.”

  “Their enthusiasm won’t survive this heat,” Sanball
at said. He looked uncomfortable in the ridiculous, ornate robe he insisted on wearing even on the hottest days. But in spite of the Samaritan leader’s words, Tobiah could tell that he was worried. Both men were. “When this summer heat wave breaks, the rains will begin,” Sanballat continued. “The work will have to stop during the rainy season. After that, it will be time for the people to return to their homes to plow and plant their crops. The enthusiasm of the masses won’t last after that. It rarely does last for very long.”

  Tobiah shook his head, wishing he could believe Sanballat’s confident prediction. His allies hadn’t heard the firsthand report about this compelling new leader, as Tobiah had. “Nehemiah is proving to be a very inspiring leader,” Tobiah told them. “He has everyone in Judah convinced that the wall can be rebuilt in a matter of months. They’re cheering him on, offering their full support.”

  “Months?” Geshem gave a derisive laugh. “Impossible. I’ve been to Jerusalem. I’ve seen the destruction. There isn’t a single gate that’s still intact.”

  “Geshem is right,” Sanballat said. “Besides, how can Nehemiah afford the supplies he needs?”

  “He claims to have a letter from King Artaxerxes addressed to the keeper of the king’s forest, granting him permission to cut all the timber he wants.”

  Geshem huffed in anger. “Nehemiah forgot to mention that little detail when he met with us.”

  “Where will he get a workforce of experienced builders?” Sanballat asked. “Most of the Judeans are farmers and shepherds.”

  “He asked all the people to volunteer as the workforce.”

  “Amateurs? What do they know about constructing a city wall? It will topple over in the first strong wind.”

  “I think you’re missing the point,” Tobiah said. “It doesn’t matter how he plans to rebuild the wall. What’s alarming is that he was in Jerusalem for what . . . barely a week? And he already managed to gain the full support of the masses. He somehow inspired them to forget their differences and work together on a common project. An enormous, impossible project. That’s a clear display of leadership genius. From there it’s not a huge leap to imagine him starting a rebellion, convincing the people that he’s the promised Messiah.”