On This Foundation
“Just look at what they are building!” Tobiah added with a mocking laugh. “If even a fox climbed up on it, he would break down their wall of stones!”
Nehemiah signaled to his aides and continued walking so his guests would have no choice except to follow. But all the way to his residence, he silently prayed to the Almighty One. Hear us, O our God, for we are despised. Turn their insults back on their own heads. Give them over as plunder in a land of captivity. Do not cover up their guilt or blot out their sins from your sight, for they have thrown insults in the face of the builders.
It seemed to take forever for the three leaders to refresh themselves and settle into their places in the council chamber, longer still to plow through all of the formal introductions and welcomes. Nehemiah could barely control his impatience and would have gladly skipped all of this if he could have. When Sanballat finally got around to the purpose of his visit, he repeated the question he’d already asked, “What is this you are doing?” Then he added a more inflammatory one: “Are you rebelling against the king?”
Nehemiah barely kept his temper. “That’s an extremely serious charge. Why would I rebel against King Artaxerxes? He’s sponsoring this work.”
“Ah, but does he know what you’re really up to here in the backwaters of his empire?” Sanballat rose from his chair, causing the wood to groan with relief, then addressed the men on the council. “Nehemiah is new to our region and doesn’t understand the dangerous political implications of fortifying this city. But I’m sure you gentlemen understand. And you also know that you’ll be executed as traitors along with your leader when the king learns of your subversive activity.”
Nehemiah’s jaw ached from clenching it to avoid giving a heated reply. If any of his council members had doubts about his leadership, the portly Samaritan leader was reinforcing them. Nehemiah took a moment to calm himself before speaking, knowing two things with certainty: King Artaxerxes was on his side; and the ultimate authority for this project had come from God, not men. He didn’t need to answer Sanballat’s ridiculous charges. He simply said, “The God of heaven will give us success.”
Sanballat smirked. “Let’s say for a moment that Tobiah and Geshem and I believe you—and that King Artaxerxes also believes that your motives are honorable. How do you expect to accomplish such a monumental task?”
“One stone at a time.”
Sanballat laughed out loud, creating a ripple of insulting laughter from among his entourage. Even stone-faced Geshem the Arab laughed derisively along with the others. Tobiah the Ammonite, who seemed to shift moods to match Sanballat’s like a chameleon changing color, chuckled and rolled his eyes. Tobiah was the quietest of the three leaders, the least flamboyant. But Nehemiah knew from experience that sometimes the quiet ones were the most dangerous.
“Are we to believe,” Sanballat asked, “that you’re a professional architect and builder, Nehemiah? Do you have qualifications that you’ve kept hidden from us?”
“You’ll see exactly how qualified I am when the wall is finished.”
“Where do you expect to find a workforce of skilled laborers?” Geshem asked, his tone condescending, his expression skeptical.
“The men of Judah will do the rebuilding.”
Nehemiah’s comment caused more laughter, louder this time. “Your wall won’t amount to much with farmers and tradesmen doing all the work,” Tobiah the Ammonite said.
“He’s right,” Sanballat added. “If you expect your wall to offer any protection, it has to be built correctly, not cobbled together.” He turned his back on Nehemiah and addressed the district leaders again. “Your governor is wasting your time. Your people’s time. Their efforts would be better spent doing what they’re qualified to do—growing wheat and barley and olives, herding sheep.”
Nehemiah held up his hands to halt the twittering laughter and insults that followed Sanballat’s remark. “Since you obviously don’t believe we can accomplish this, what are you so worried about? Why make the long journey here? Why try to discourage us from doing something you believe is impossible?”
Sanballat finished his laughter with a cough and settled back in his seat, his hands folded on his broad belly. “As governor of The Land Beyond the River, it’s my duty to warn you that the Persians will most certainly interpret your actions as rebellious.”
“Nonsense. You saw my letter of authorization from King Artaxerxes. Or did you fail to read it carefully?” Nehemiah looked directly at Geshem, who had barely given the document a glance.
“My aides looked at it,” Geshem said. “And they don’t recall reading anything about fortifying Jerusalem.”
He was right. The letter didn’t specifically say that. But in his appeal to King Artaxerxes, Nehemiah had made his intentions clear: “If it pleases the king and if your servant has found favor in his sight, let him send me to the city in Judah where my fathers are buried so I can rebuild it.” King Artaxerxes had granted all of Nehemiah’s requests.
“Would you like to see the letter the king wrote to Asaph, keeper of his forest?” he asked. “In it, the king commands Asaph to give me timber to make beams for the gates and for the citadel near the temple and for the city wall.”
Sanballat didn’t reply, turning to the council leaders again. “Listen to me, gentlemen. Shallum . . . Rephaiah . . . Malkijah . . . we’ve worked together in the past, and I know that you’ve also worked closely with Tobiah. None of you is a fool. Surely, now that you’ve had time to think about it, you realize the futility of this plan and the foolishness of the man who is leading you into such dangerous folly. Attempting to rebuild miles and miles of city wall is a tragic waste of time and manpower that could be put to better use during these difficult economic times.”
Nehemiah had heard enough. “If your delegation’s purpose is to mock and ridicule me and to undermine my work, then I think your official visit has come to an end. Good day.” He would have walked out, but Sanballat rose from his seat to stop him.
“You forget that I ran the province of Judah before you arrived out of nowhere. I could be of assistance to you. So could Tobiah, who knows this land and its people much better than you do.”
“I haven’t forgotten. The province of Judah became impoverished under your rule and the enormous taxes you imposed.”
“I didn’t cause the drought, Governor Nehemiah. I care about these people and have their best interests in mind—and you obviously don’t.”
Tobiah rose to join the assault. “Your decision affects the entire Land Beyond the River, including the province that I govern. Sanballat, Geshem, and I all have a share in what happens in Judah. ”
“We Judeans are God’s servants,” Nehemiah replied. “And we will continue rebuilding the wall. But the three of you have no share in Jerusalem or any claim or historic right to it.”
“How dare you!” Sanballat shouted.
“I dare because King Artaxerxes appointed me governor of Judah. I’m doing the work that he and my God gave me to do. You and anyone else who oppose me are opposing God.”
“Your God spoke to you and told you to build?” Tobiah mocked. “You have some nerve! Who do you think you are? Moses? The Messiah? Only they may claim to hear from our God.” Tobiah turned to the high priest. “Eliashib, are you and your fellow priests going to allow such blasphemy? Your governor just claimed to have direct revelation from God!”
Nehemiah didn’t wait for Eliashib’s reply. He walked toward the door, turning back to say, “You are welcome to stay and enjoy the meal my servants have prepared for you. But I have no more time to spare for you and your taunts. I have a job to do. The God I serve will give us success.”
He heard the anxious buzz of voices behind him as he strode from the room. His aide Jehohanan hurried out with him. “You’ve insulted Governor Sanballat and the others,” he whispered on the way down the hall. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”
“Well, I’m angry, as well. He took advantage of my hospitality to mock
and ridicule me and my work.”
“He’s a very powerful man. I’d watch my back, if I were you.”
Nehemiah knew the danger of what he had just done. But he would admit to no one, not even his aides or his brothers, that he was afraid. In Persia he’d kept careful watch over the king’s safety—never his own. Whenever he drank from King Artaxerxes’ cup or tasted his food, Nehemiah always knew that it might be poisoned, that he might die protecting the king. The need for constant vigilance had been nerve-wracking, at times. But now it was his life that might be threatened. The hatred he felt toward these three enemies was mutual. If they plotted to kill him, Nehemiah wondered if the work would proceed or if the people would be too fearful to continue.
“This visit won’t be the end of their attempts to stop us,” he told Jehohanan. “It’s just the beginning. They won’t give up until we stop building, and I have no intention of doing that.”
Ephraim and Hanani caught up with him a few minutes later. “That was a masterful performance,” Ephraim said. “You didn’t back down one inch.”
“It ended in a standoff,” Nehemiah said. “They aren’t going to back down, either.”
“What’s next?” Hanani asked. “What would you like us to do?”
Nehemiah halted in the hallway of their residence, very aware that from a safety standpoint, their home was not at all secure. “We need to pray—continually—that the Almighty One will help us. And that He will turn our enemies’ insults back on their own heads.”
“We are praying, Nehemiah. Morning and evening.”
“Good. And we’re probably going to need weapons. Look into that for me, Hanani. There may come a time when we’ll need them. In the meantime, we’ll need to remain alert day and night. Now let’s get back to work. I’ve wasted enough time with these men.”
Chapter
24
JERUSALEM
Chana watched as the builders stretched a taut level line across the top of the stones to make sure the new construction was straight and level. “Using a plumb line is exactly the kind of precision work that I can do,” she told her father. “And I know I can do it much better than your clumsy laborers can.” Sorting stones had been interesting at first, but now Chana wanted a new challenge. She hounded Abba every chance she got, trailing behind him at the worksite with the cord in her hand and a clay weight dangling from it. “Just let me try it, Abba. I know I can do it.”
When he finally gave in, he stood at the bottom of the scaffolding while Chana climbed up for the first time, prepared to catch her if she fell. The structure was shaky and the climb precarious, but she hid her unease as she made her way to the top. The wall perched on top of such a steep slope that the height made her dizzy, but she got the hang of the job in no time. By the end of the week, Abba realized what a good eye she had and stopped objecting as she climbed up and down the scaffolding and crawled around on top of the six-foot-wide wall to make sure the builders kept it straight and true. She loved standing on a level row of freshly laid blocks to gaze out at the view of the Mishneh and the Judean hills beyond.
Her sister Yudit was also adept at climbing up and down the scaffolding, proving to be an expert at choosing just the right stone to jam into the crevices between the larger ones to create a snug fit. The job that Sarah loved best was surveying the largest building blocks and finding ones that weren’t too badly burned or crumbling, then showing the workers which edges needed to be chiseled off to make the stones fit tightly together. Chana now heard the constant sound of chipping and chiseling and grinding and pounding even in her sleep. And she slept better every night than she had in more than a year.
This morning Chana was halfway up the ladder of scaffolding with a plumb line in her hand when she heard shouting behind her. “Whoa! Whoa! Stop! Where are you going? Get down from there!”
She turned to see Governor Nehemiah standing below her and quickly made sure her skirt was modest. “Are you talking to me?” she asked.
“Of course I am! What do you think you’re doing up there?”
“I’m checking this course of stones to make sure they’re plumb.”
“No, no, no! Get down from there and leave this area immediately! And you—you both need to leave, too!” he said, spotting Yudit and Sarah.
“Why?” Chana asked.
“Why!” Nehemiah was almost too outraged to speak. Chana didn’t move from where she stood on the ladder. “Because this is dangerous work! Women don’t belong anywhere near here!”
“We’re very familiar with the dangers. We’ve been working here since the first day.”
“Who’s your site leader?” he asked, glancing all around.
“Our father, Shallum ben Hallohesh. I heard you say in your speech, Governor, that each section leader is responsible for choosing his own volunteers, and our father chose us. We have his permission to be here.”
“Where is Shallum? I need to speak with him. And in the meantime, get down from there!” Chana still didn’t move. Nehemiah looked strong enough and angry enough to scoop her up in his brawny arms and carry her home once she did.
“Abba went to talk to Ephraim ben Hacaliah about getting more timber,” Sarah told him. She looked suitably frightened of Nehemiah and so did Yudit, who had stopped gathering stones and had come to stand near the foot of the scaffolding.
“Somebody go find him,” Nehemiah commanded. “Tell him I need to speak with him immediately. And the three of you—go home!” He planted his hand on Sarah’s shoulder and gave her a little push. Chana scrambled down the ladder.
“Don’t tell us what to do, Governor. This is our city, too. Our inheritance.”
“I cannot allow this. What will people say when they come through the Valley Gate or visit me at my headquarters and see women working? I’m ordering you to go home where you belong.”
“I don’t suppose you know the story of Zelophehad’s daughters?” Chana asked, hands on her hips. “It’s in the Torah. The Almighty One said that daughters have a right to their father’s inheritance if he has no sons.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not even making sense!” He stood as if bracing for a fistfight. Chana wrapped her arm around the leg of the scaffolding, certain that he would throw her over his shoulder any minute and carry her home. Yudit and Sarah—the cowards—slowly inched away from him, heading down the slope toward the gate.
“Why are you defying me, defying convention, and . . . and common sense? Is it sheer, muleheaded stubbornness or what? Why won’t you leave like any normal woman would, and go home?”
His insults infuriated her, making her words spill out. “I was betrothed to a man, Yitzhak ben Rephaiah—”
“I know the story. He was murdered.”
“Well, you obviously have no idea what it’s like to lose someone you love. Or what it’s like to know that if only there had been better protection—”
“You’re wrong. I do know both of those things.”
“Then you should also know how hard it is not to be angry with God. How impossible it is, at times, to continue to believe in His goodness.” Chana knew she was spilling thoughts that she’d never shared with anyone, thoughts that she should keep to herself, but once she’d opened a tiny window to her heart, she couldn’t stop. “I go to the temple and worship Him because it’s expected of me, and sometimes I succeed in believing in a loving God, but just as often, I don’t. This morning we sang the words, ‘His love endures forever.’ And I couldn’t see it. There is so much rage still seething inside me that I could murder Yitzhak’s killers with my own two hands and set their houses ablaze with their families and little ones inside. And I know that my hatred isn’t pleasing to God and has no place in my heart when I stand in His house of worship. But what can I do with it? Where can it go?”
Nehemiah didn’t reply. He stared at her as if stunned by her outburst. Chana unwound her arm from the scaffolding and took a step toward him. “The men who killed Yitzhak were never found,
never brought to justice. And so I’m pouring all of my rage into building this wall. I know it won’t bring Yitzhak back, but it might keep another killer out. It might spare another woman the grief of losing someone she loves.”
He was quiet for a long moment before saying, “Even so, I can’t allow it. You’re a woman.”
“Thank you for noticing. But you can’t stop me.”
They stood toe-to-toe, neither one of them backing down. She had to look up to see him, the top of her head level with his chin. All of the workers watched and listened. Nehemiah was the governor and she a mere woman—reasons enough for her to submit and obey him and go home. She wouldn’t do it.
“This isn’t the end of this discussion,” he finally said. He turned his back and strode away, passing Yudit and Sarah on his way to the gate. Chana watched him go, her legs too shaky to climb the scaffolding again that day.
Nehemiah still trembled with fury as he marched through the Valley Gate and back to his headquarters inside the city. He would find Shallum and tell him exactly what he thought of his impudent, disrespectful daughter. What kind of a father couldn’t control his children? Shallum certainly didn’t deserve to be the district leader of Jerusalem if he was too weak to stop his daughter from pushing him around. Nehemiah reached the shade of the rush-covered roof that served as his field headquarters, but the only person there was his brother Hanani.
“Where’s Ephraim?” he asked. The girl said her father had gone to talk to him.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen Ephraim since this morning.”
“Shallum ben Hallohesh and his daughters—do you know them?” Nehemiah asked.
“I know Shallum, leader of the half-district of Jerusalem. And I’m aware that he has daughters, but I don’t know them. Why?”
“There are three of them, and they’re working on the wall. I saw them myself a few minutes ago. Women! Moving stones and climbing the scaffolding and using a plumb line!”