Governor Rehum lifted his chin as if a reply was beneath him. He was a short, swarthy man with the black, tightly curled hair and dusky complexion of Iddo’s enemies, the Babylonians and Assyrians. His secretary, Shimshai, spoke for him. “Lord Rehum would be most interested in a tour of the city to see your progress. As you know, Jerusalem and the territory of Judah were under his jurisdiction for many years before you arrived.”
“Yes, I am aware of that,” Sheshbazzar replied. But Iddo was relieved when the prince made no offer of a tour. He remained cordial yet firm, and after more posturing and flattery and empty formalities, Governor Rehum finally got to the point of his visit.
“A year ago I received a copy of the proclamation from King Cyrus announcing the return of Jewish exiles from Babylon. Your intention, so it was stated, was to rebuild King Solomon’s temple. I am aware of the recent flurry of commercial activity in my province as building materials have been ordered and shipped through my territory from Sidon and Tyre and Lebanon. And so I have come with my fellow officials from Samaria and with many of the local leaders to offer our assistance. Together we will all rebuild the temple that our sovereign, King Cyrus, has authorized.”
Iddo’s stomach made a sickening drop as if he had just stepped off the edge of a high wall. He gazed around at his fellow priests and knew that the look of shock on their faces probably mirrored his own. None of them had seen this coming.
“Like you,” Rehum continued, “we also seek your God and have been sacrificing to Him ever since the time of Esarhaddon, king of Assyria. He brought our ancestors here and sent some of your priests to instruct us in God’s ways. Now we’re offering our manpower and our resources as we work alongside you.”
Sheshbazzar stroked his beard for a long moment. He seemed to choose his words carefully as he replied. “Your offer is very generous, Governor Rehum, but unnecessary. King Cyrus has already made certain that we are well provided for. As his proclamation states, it’s in his best interests to see that the Almighty One is properly worshiped, and so he has provided everything we need.”
Rehum’s smile seemed stiff. “Nevertheless, since we’ll be worshiping the same God as you, side by side with you once the temple is completed, we believe it’s only fair that we help you build it.”
His words were met with stunned silence. No, Iddo thought. No. The high priest couldn’t possibly allow the half-pagan Samaritans and local people to worship alongside them, much less rebuild with them. It was unthinkable. Governor Rehum must have no place, no power, in God’s holy temple. And that’s what this really was, a blatant grab for power. When neither the high priest nor the prince replied, Rehum continued.
“We are willing and eager to work with you, sharing the costs and the labor. We have architects and expert craftsmen, experienced men, who will gladly work out all of the details with you.”
Jeshua the high priest stood to reply, his voice so soft that Rehum had to lean forward to hear it. “We’ll need time to consider your offer, Governor Rehum.”
“To consider it!” Rehum looked as though he’d been slapped. “What do you need to consider? King Cyrus has decreed that we must all live together, and so we’re simply following his majesty’s wishes and offering to work together, as well. We’ve generously shared our land with you, as the king has requested. But I think you’ll agree that the temple mount belongs to all of us.”
Iddo began shaking his head. No. The temple mount belonged to the Almighty One, and He entrusted the Jews to rebuild His temple. But the high priest answered before Iddo could speak.
“I understand,” Jeshua said. “But we don’t make any decisions of importance without first consulting the Torah.”
“We have the same Torah that you do,” Shimshai responded. It was clear from the way that Rehum had slumped back in his seat with his arms crossed that he had been insulted and would no longer speak. His secretary would speak for him from now on.
“Even so,” Prince Sheshbazzar said, “please allow our chief priests and scholars the time they need to consult God’s Word. We would be honored if you would accept our hospitality at a second banquet tomorrow when we will give you their answer.”
All work was suspended for the remainder of the day. Jeshua sent the Torah students home so he and the chief priests and Levites could meet in the house of assembly to formulate their reply. Iddo sent word home with Zechariah that the meeting would likely last the entire night. As the gathering convened, Iddo knew that the others recognized him as one of the leading Torah scholars. But he was astounded to learn that a handful of his fellow priests didn’t see the Samaritans’ offer the same way that he did—including his good friends Joel and Mattaniah.
“I know you must all share my great relief,” Mattaniah began, “to learn that they’re extending a hand of friendship to us. We won’t have to worry and watch our backs as the construction continues. Or posts guards the way we did when the altar was being built.”
“Yes. Let’s come to a consensus quickly,” Joel added, “before we insult them further with more delays.”
“Wait,” Iddo said. “I believe there’s more to this ‘friendly’ offer than what we can see. Jeshua is right to proceed with caution. We need to pray and ask the Almighty One for guidance before we agree to compromise with them. Remember the trouble that Joshua and our ancestors got into when they made an alliance with the Gibeonites without consulting the Holy One? We don’t know what these men’s true motives are.”
“Governor Rehum already told us his motives,” Mattaniah said. “The Samaritans worship the same God we do and follow our Torah. Why not let them help us?”
“Anyone with eyes can see that we need their help,” Joel added. “Why build a second-rate temple for the Holy One when it can be as spectacular as King Solomon’s temple with a little more help? I know that many of you share my disappointment with what we’ve built so far. If the Samaritans are willing to contribute money and manpower and skilled craftsmen, I say we should let them.”
“It would be completed in much less time,” Mattaniah said. “And wasn’t that our goal in coming here? To complete the temple?”
Iddo hated to argue with his two friends, but he couldn’t allow them to sway the others. All of the sacred scrolls were right here in front of him, and he quickly found the one that contained Israel’s history, unrolling it as he spoke. “The Samaritans are a mixed race and their religion is also a mixture. According to these writings, when the Assyrians first exiled our people and settled outsiders here, wild animals attacked them because the people didn’t know what the God of Israel required of them. So they asked the king of Assyria to send some of Israel’s captive priests back to our land with the Torah to guide them.”
“And like Governor Rehum said, the priests brought back our Torah,” Joel said. “End of story.”
“No, those priests from the northern kingdom had already fallen away from God, which is why the northern kingdom was punished first. I can show you here in Scripture how they worshipped golden calves in Bethel and Dan and built temples to Baal and Asherah. Their worship had turned corrupt long before the exile, and their priests were no longer descendants of Aaron. Yes, the Assyrians sent priests to them, but the Samaritans mixed the worship of our God with their pagan worship. You’ve all seen their shrines on the high places around here. The local people still have pagan ways.”
“Why not teach them the right way?” Joel said. “Their young men can study the Torah alongside ours so that the next generation will know what’s right.”
Iddo grabbed the fifth Torah scroll, appalled at the thought of Zechariah studying alongside the brutish boys who had beaten and mocked him. “It says right here, when Moses gave us instructions before reaching the Promised Land, ‘Make no treaty with them, and show them no mercy.’ We can’t be deceived the way Joshua was.”
“My friend Zabad traces his ancestry to the Jews who were left behind during the exile,” Mattaniah said. “The Babylonians left some o
f the poorest people here to work the land, remember? Zabad is a son of Abraham just like we are, and he has a right to help us build and to worship God with us.”
“Is he a pure son? Are his wives Jews or pagans? Are all of his ancestors pure?”
The exchange quickly became heated, and Iddo was grateful when the high priest entered the discussion, taking his side. “If Zabad can show us his genealogy and prove that his family hasn’t intermarried with the Samaritans, then yes, he and men like him may worship with us. But not men of mixed race. They must remain in the Court of the Gentiles. And I’m sorry to say that includes Governor Rehum.”
“Fine,” Mattaniah said. “But I still don’t see the harm in accepting their help and allowing them to work with us. Heaven knows we could use it. We don’t have experienced architects and craftsmen, and they do.”
“If we let them build with us, they can claim that the temple is rightfully theirs just as much as ours,” Iddo said. “What if they want to introduce something foreign to our worship? Or change the way that the Almighty One has said to do things?”
“We can’t allow it,” Jeshua said.
“The Almighty One hates a mixture,” Iddo said, waving one of the scrolls for proof. “We’ll end up in the same mess that caused our exile in the first place. If their sons study with ours, they could become a bad influence on our sons instead of the other way around. We don’t have very many young people among us as it is.”
“Yes, and they still have a lot of Babylon’s ways in them,” Jeshua said. “We can’t risk losing the younger generation to idols.”
“Fine,” Mattaniah said again. “Then their sons can study in their own schools. But we still should accept their help.”
“And what if they want to install their own priests?” Iddo asked. “The Torah says only descendants of Aaron can be priests. The Samaritan priests aren’t Aaron’s descendants and haven’t been for centuries.”
“Then we’ll make it clear from the start that we cannot allow them to serve,” Joel said. “Only men who can trace their lineage to Aaron.”
“But if the Samaritans have contributed money and experts to help us build, won’t they claim they have just as much right as we do to make those kinds of decisions? Won’t they expect their own priests to serve in worship?”
“Iddo makes good points,” Jeshua said.
“And what about their women?” Iddo continued. “If we’re worshiping side by side with Samaritans, won’t our young men be attracted to their daughters and want them for their wives? How will we answer them? If we’ve compromised and worked together in other ways, our young men will see no reason not to compromise in marriage. Since these Samaritan women have been part of their life all along, why not marry them, they’ll ask. I can show you right here,” Iddo said, shuffling through the scrolls again, “where it says, ‘Do not intermarry with them. Do not give your daughters to their sons or take their daughters for your sons, for they will turn your sons away from following me to serve other gods, and the Lord’s anger will burn against you.’”
More and more priests joined the discussion, and Iddo was relieved to see that he had swayed nearly all of them with his arguments. Late that night, when they finally reached the decision to refuse all help from the Samaritan governor and the local people, only Joel and Mattaniah still disagreed.
“I will talk to Prince Sheshbazzar myself,” Jeshua said, “and give him our reasons for refusing Governor Rehum’s offer.” Iddo thought the discussion was finished, but Joel and Mattaniah were still clearly upset.
“How will the prince dare to refuse the governor?” Joel asked. “Rehum controls the entire Trans-Euphrates district. He could cut off our supply routes, sabotage our caravans. You’re going to be very sorry if you refuse.” Iddo heard the anger in Joel’s tone and wondered if he had lost a friend.
“Our authority comes from King Cyrus,” Jeshua said. “Governor Rehum has no right to stop us. He will be welcome to worship with us in the Court of the Gentiles, but he will have no part in rebuilding.”
“You’re making a huge mistake,” Mattaniah said. “We need the Samaritans and the local people in order to survive. What if they refuse to sell us their produce and livestock?”
“The Holy One will provide for our needs,” Iddo said.
“He already has been providing for us through the Samaritans!” Mattaniah shouted. “Who do you think we’ve been buying oil and grain and livestock from? Do you want our families to starve?”
“Mattaniah is right,” Joel said. “What if the local people turn against us in full force? There are more of them than us, especially now that we’re spread out across Judah in dozens of struggling villages. None of our settlements have walls for protection.”
“Should we allow fear to rule us? Is that how we make our decisions?” Iddo asked.
“No, but we need to be practical. We don’t have weapons—and they do.”
“Why did the Holy One send us into exile?” Iddo asked. “Wasn’t it because of our idolatry? We now have a chance to start all over again, and the first thing you’re asking us to do is compromise with idolaters? Any one of our Torah students can tell you the story of how our forefathers failed to drive all the Canaanites from the land, and how the next generation adopted Canaanite ways and Canaanite gods, just as Moses warned they would. We don’t have the authority to drive the Samaritans out of our land, but we must remain separate from them.”
“It isn’t practical to remain separate. We are too few. We need them.”
“We can’t afford to need them, Mattaniah.” The long discussion had made Iddo’s head ache. He found the third book of Moses among the scrolls and handed it to Joel. “Read this yourself. You’ll find that God says, ‘You are to be holy to me because I, the Lord, am holy, and I have set you apart from the nations to be my own.’ We must remain separate.”
Iddo stayed behind in the house of assembly after Jeshua dismissed the meeting. It was after midnight, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. He lit an oil lamp and continued to study the Scriptures until dawn, praying that he was right, praying that when Sheshbazzar refused Governor Rehum’s offer tomorrow that their tiny, vulnerable community of Jews was doing the right thing.
The following afternoon, Iddo sat in the banquet pavilion again, nervously awaiting the outcome. Prince Sheshbazzar was tactful in his refusal, assuring Governor Rehum that the priests had all the help and resources they needed to rebuild the temple. “We are very grateful for your offer, but we must refuse it.” As everyone feared, the governor and his officials stormed away in anger. Amid the outrage and recriminations, the local leader, Zabad, stood up to shake his fist at Sheshbazzar.
“You want nothing to do with us?” he asked. “Very well! If we aren’t good enough for you, then neither is our wheat or our wine or our olive oil!”
“I told you so,” Mattaniah said glumly after the delegation left.
The high priest laid his hand on Mattaniah’s shoulder. “I know. You did warn us, but we had no choice. Now I want to ask a favor of you, if I may. You’ve been friendly with these villagers. Would you go to them and tell them the truth about how you disagreed with us? Try to keep the lines of communication open. Be our eyes and ears in their villages.”
“You’re asking me to be a spy?”
“I’m asking you to keep us informed so we’ll know if there’s an imminent threat.”
“You want me to pretend I’m still their friend to get information. That’s being a spy.”
“Moses sent spies into the Promised Land, and Joshua sent spies into Jericho. We would be wise to follow their example. You said you were concerned for our safety, didn’t you?”
“You’re backing me into a corner, Jeshua. I need time to think about this.”
Iddo returned home after the disastrous banquet to tell his family what had happened. He wasn’t surprised when Mattaniah didn’t return home with him. Dinah met Iddo in the courtyard with a worried look on her face. “What’
s going on, Iddo? Shoshanna and I were standing here talking when Joel burst in and grabbed her by the arm and hauled her home with no explanation whatsoever.”
Before Iddo could reply, Yael came out of the house and asked, “Where’s my father? Why didn’t he come home with you?”
Iddo closed his eyes at the enormity of the rift he had created. What if Mattaniah moved out and took Yael with him? What if Joel wouldn’t let their wives be friends anymore? Either move would break Dinah’s heart—just when she was almost happy again, enjoying the female companionship she’d had in Babylon. “Sit down, Dinah,” he said gently, gesturing to a small wooden stool.
“Why?” She remained standing as if bracing for a strong wind. Zechariah and the two shepherds’ wives all gathered around to hear, as well. Feeling weary, Iddo sank down on the stool he had offered Dinah.
“You all know about the delegation of Samaritans and local elders who asked to meet with us. Well, they came to offer their help in rebuilding the temple, alongside us. The chief priests and Levites met last night, and we decided to advise Sheshbazzar to refuse their offer. I won’t go into all of our reasons, but we used God’s Law for guidance. Joel and Mattaniah both disagreed with our decision. Now they’re upset.”
“Where did my father go?” Yael asked.
“I think he went down to talk to the local leaders. The Samaritans were angry with our decision, too. He’s worried there might be trouble.”
“But we can’t get mad at them!” Yael said. “Leyla is my friend!”
“Wait, I don’t understand,” Dinah said. “Why did Joel make Shoshanna leave our house?”
“Because I was the one who led the opposition. And I convinced all the others to reach this decision.”
“Oh, Iddo,” Dinah breathed. “What have you done? Just when things were going so well here.”