Chapter
35
BABYLON
Devorah clung to her husband as they lay in bed, unwilling to let him go. Alone in their room with the children asleep, she finally had a chance to say good-bye to him in private. The hottest days of summer had passed, and Ezra would leave in the morning for the long, hazardous journey east to the Persian capital of Susa. He and a delegation of Jewish elders would make inquiries with the proper officials and ask for an audience with King Artaxerxes. They would request permission to return home to the Promised Land. Devorah couldn’t imagine it; Babylon was the only home she’d ever known, while Jerusalem was a far-off place she’d only read about in the Torah and sung about in psalms.
As she held Ezra for what might be the last time for many months, Devorah recalled her last night in Jude’s arms, and the loving words he had whispered to her. She’d had no idea it would be their last night together.
The brothers were very different, and her marriage to each man was also different. She’d loved Jude from the very beginning and never doubted he loved her in return. She’d married Ezra in obedience to the law, not for love, wanting a son to carry Jude’s name. She never dreamed she would grow to love Ezra or find so much joy with this quiet, introspective man, the father of her children. Devorah often thought of her first husband, but she had now been married to Ezra nearly three times as long as to Jude.
She listened to Ezra’s steady heartbeat as she lay in his arms and knew he was still awake. “You’re not sleeping?” she whispered.
“I can’t. I’m nervous and excited and hopeful and cautious all at the same time.”
“Do you suppose that’s how Moses felt the night before he went to speak to Pharaoh?” she asked, trying to lighten his mood.
“Perhaps.” She heard the smile in his voice. “I’m wishing I had his miraculous powers. A staff that transformed into a snake might help. Or the ability to turn the Euphrates River into blood.”
“You have the same God as Moses on your side.”
“That’s true.”
“I wish I knew how long you’ll be gone.”
“You’d better plan on at least six months. But long or short, we’re determined to wait in Susa and not give up until our petition has been heard and granted.”
“I don’t know how to say good-bye for that long.” She nestled closer, savoring his warmth, realizing how very much she would miss him. “Tell me the truth, Ezra. Is this trip dangerous? Could you die?” She hadn’t dared to ask before now, but with his caravan loaded and ready to leave at dawn, she needed to know.
“It’s a two-hundred-fifty-mile trip, so I suppose there are certain dangers along the way. I don’t know much about traveling since I’ve only been out of this city once before, years ago, to visit Casiphia. But I think the biggest danger is the risk the Persian king will interpret our petition as a bid for independence from the empire and as rebellion against his authority—in which case I suppose he’ll execute us.”
Devorah shuddered. “I promise I’ll pray every day and ask the Holy One to keep you safe.”
“Thank you, but it’s much more important to ask God to give us success in convincing the king.”
“Fine. I’ll tell the Almighty One Ezra’s safety doesn’t matter—only his petition.”
He tightened his arm around her shoulder, laughing softly. “All right, Devorah. You may ask for both. . . . If I’m successful, and the king grants another decree like the one under King Cyrus, you’ll face the daunting challenge of leaving Babylon and traveling to Jerusalem to start a new life. This is the only home you and our children have ever known. Jude and your parents are all buried here. Does it bother you to leave here?”
“My grandfather wished he could return to the Promised Land. He would often say, ‘I wish I could go home.’ The way he talked about Jerusalem made me long to see it, too. But I sometimes wonder if we’re too old to start a brand-new life. I’m thirty-eight and you’re nearly fifty. There are so many unknowns in such a journey.”
“But do you want to go with me, Devorah? I can’t leave tomorrow without asking you that question. I want you by my side when I return to Jerusalem more than anything else—but you don’t have to come. You can stay here with Jude’s son and raise him here, if that’s what you want.”
She started to speak, but he stopped her. “No, listen. I know you didn’t love me when we married. And I know we’ve been too busy in the years since then to talk about our feelings for each other very often. One of my greatest failings as a husband is that I’m not very good at expressing how I feel. But I want you to know I’ve grown to love you, Devorah—more than I ever could have imagined. God knew what He was doing when He made you my wife. I’ve never dared to hope you could love me as much as Jude. But I’m thankful every single day that you agreed to marry me.”
Devorah’s eyes filled with tears. She hugged Ezra tightly, struggling to control her overflowing emotions so she could speak. “You’ve shown me your love, Ezra. Jude grabbed a sword and fought to protect me from a physical enemy. You’re willing to fight an invisible enemy, not only for my sake but for our children’s sakes. You’re taking your life in your hands and daring to approach the king—for us. That’s love.” She released him and pulled back to take his face in her hands and look into his eyes. “I never thought I would love any man as much as I loved Jude. But I do love you, Ezra—just as much as him. Maybe more because we’ve had more years together.” Tears filled his eyes at her words. “I’ll miss you when you’re away and grieve your absence just as I grieved for Jude. And of course I’ll go with you to Jerusalem. There’s no doubt in my mind that my place is by your side.”
“I’ll miss you,” he whispered.
“And I’ll miss you, too. More than words can say.”
Neither of them slept well, and morning came much too soon. Devorah held her husband one last time while they were still alone for one final, tearful good-bye. “I hate that my work takes me away from you for so long,” Ezra said. “I hate leaving you and the children all alone. I’m so sorry.”
“Asher will look after us. Your work is more important. When God grants you success, it will change our people’s lives. It will change history.”
“Amen . . . I think I understand why God said, ‘It’s not good for man to be alone.’ You show me a side of the Holy One I don’t see in myself: His compassion. I’m too hard on people, too impatient with them. I’m always afraid if I show mercy, people will use it as an excuse to sin. You’ve helped me temper the law with His grace. And you’ve made countless sacrifices so I could do the work God gave me. And now I’m asking for one more. Can you forgive me for leaving you?”
“Of course I forgive you. Just be safe. And come back to us soon.”
He started toward the door, and Devorah bent to fold up their bedding. But Ezra halted and turned back to her. “I’ve been trying to think of what to say to our children, and it’s almost harder than planning my words to the King of Persia. I know they’re too young to understand the importance of what I’m doing. The twins, especially, seem resentful that they have to share their father with the entire community. And now my work will take me away for many months.”
“They aren’t resentful. It’s just hard for them to be the sons of such a great man.”
“I’m not a great man. I’m a servant of God, as we all are. It’s just that He has called me to serve Him as a leader.”
“The boys don’t understand that now, but someday they will. They’re good children at heart and not rebellious in a bad way. I know they love and admire you.”
“I may have to miss their bar mitzvah. Will they forgive me for that?”
“Ask them.”
She set aside the bedding and held him close one last time, then went out to the courtyard to fix breakfast. Ezra had decided to leave right after eating, the way he always did, as if merely going off to another day of work. Ezra and the twins would walk to the house of assembly together t
o pray, then the boys would go to the yeshiva, and Ezra would leave for Susa. Devorah whispered a prayer for him as he prepared to give them his parting instructions.
“As I get ready to leave for Susa to ask the king of Persia to let our people go,” Ezra began, “I’ve been thinking about Moses. He had two sons, just as I do. Do you remember their names?”
The twins thought for a moment. “One was Gershom . . .”
“ . . . and the other was Eliezer.”
“Yes. Very good. And what are they remembered for?”
The boys looked at each other, dumbfounded. Devorah didn’t know the answer, either. “We’ve never heard anything about them,” Shallum finally replied.
“And maybe that’s a good thing,” Ezra said. “Too often, we hear about a person only when he does something wrong or something great. And that’s my wish for all of my children. I hope I hear stories about your greatness when I get home—or else nothing at all.”
“We promise, Abba.” The boys grinned, and Devorah knew they understood their father’s attempt at humor. But where would she find the wisdom to deal with the twins all alone while he was gone?
“I know I can count on you boys to take care of your mother and sisters for me,” he continued. “But don’t be in a hurry to grow up. I’ll miss so much as it is. Most painful for me is not hearing you read Torah for the first time in the house of assembly. I hope you can forgive me for not being there on such an important day. Sharing your father for the Holy One’s work can be your offering to Him, your sacrifice. All of us would like to do great things for God, brave and memorable things, but He’s asking you to live without your father for several months. Can you do that willingly?”
“Yes,” Judah said. “But we’ll miss you, Abba.” Shallum nodded.
“Pretend I’m in the next room. Live as if I were.” He stood, and Devorah knew he wanted to leave before they all began to weep. First, he said a tender good-bye to Jude’s daughters. Abigail was seventeen and betrothed to a fine young man from the community. Ezra had made the arrangements, but he didn’t know if he would return in time for her wedding. “I’m sorry, Abigail. It’s such an important day for you, and I should—”
“It’s okay, Uncle Ezra. I understand.” She gave him an embrace.
“And you, Michal. You will be a grown woman by the time I return. Maybe you’ll be in love by then, as well.”
Devorah watched Jude’s daughters hug Ezra good-bye, knowing how much they’d grown to love him, the only father they remembered. And he loved them, too. Then he knelt down and opened his arms to their three youngest daughters. “Come here,” he said. “Look, I have tears in my eyes. See? Remember these tears when you’re angry with me for being so far away. Remember how very sad I was to leave you. Only the Holy One could take me away from your mother and you. For no other reason would I leave you. But I believe God commands me to go and speak to the king. Sometimes He asks us to do very hard things, and we must obey Him.”
Devorah wiped her eyes, thinking what a tender, softhearted man Ezra was beneath the tough, unyielding exterior he presented to their community. And also how much he had changed in the years since they’d married. They gave each other one last, lingering hug. “Be safe,” she whispered. Then she stood with her daughters at the gate, waving to him as he walked to the house of assembly with their sons.
“We won’t let Abba out of our sight again when he comes home, will we Mama?” her youngest daughter said.
“No, we certainly won’t.” She had lost Jude, and now she was losing Ezra. But he had never been hers to keep. He belonged to the Almighty One and to the people He’d been called to lead. He turned and gave a final wave, wiping tears from his eyes, before disappearing around the corner.
Chapter
36
THE PERSIAN CAPITAL OF SUSA
Ezra 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.”