We had nearly finished harvesting our barley at Debir when Ahilud came
running to tell me, "Father, someone's coming to see you!"
I straightened up from my reaping and all the other men, women, and children in
the field stopped their work and gathered around us.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and ran a whetstone over the blade of my bronze
sickle. "Thank you, Ahilud, my son. Where are they? Who would come at this busy
time of the year?"
"The Levites at Hebron sent a runner to tell us, father. He's resting at the
upper spring." Ahilud pointed toward the pair of plane trees at the lower end of
the barley field that fills the floor of our little valley. A pair of ravens
that had been soaring above us flew over and settled into the trees.
"Khermesh, Sheal, the day is not spent and we have a harvest to gather," I told
my younger sons as I pointed at the untempered sun. "Keep everyone working. I'll
come back."
I walked with Ahilud toward the plane trees, and our movement provoked the
ravens into taking flight again with caws of protest at being disturbed during
the heat of the afternoon. A youth rose from beside the spring-fed pool in the
shade of the plane trees.
"Ah, Yakov; the Lord be with you! What brings you here in the full heat of the
day?"
The youth bowed and answered, "Sir, the sons of Rechab who watch over Abraham's
tomb sent me. They asked me to tell you that nine men and a boy have come from
the north seeking you. Our men met them when they came to the well at the
terebinths of Mamre. One claims to be a friend of yours: Gera ben Matri, a man
of Benjamin."
"Gera? Praise the Lord," I said with delight. "Did anyone in Hebron have the
goodness to draw water for him? Where is he now, Yakov?"
"He'll be here by nightfall, sir. The sons of Rechab knew Gera and spoke for
him. They invited him to their harvest feast, but he wanted his friends to come
here first and meet you. They are northerners, but I didn't hear their names or
whose sons they are."
"What could they want, father?" Ahilud asked.
A sudden feeling of dread told me that their coming could only mean trouble.
"Only the Lord knows, my son, but never let it be said that we sent them away
without making them welcome. Yakov, you'll abide with us too. I'll send someone
else to meet them on their way."
"It shall be done," Ahilud answered. He took the runner and went to prepare for
our guests.
The field lay in shadow when at last the children shouted that they saw
strangers approaching. I saw their dark shapes trudging over the hill we used as
a threshing place, coming from the northeast, the direction of Hebron. I hurried
to meet them at the plane trees. Khermesh and Sheal filled a pair of gourds with
water from the spring and came to stand beside me.
"There's Gera," I told my sons, pointing out the tallest man of the eleven.
"He's the one with the bow, and just as lean as ever. Nobody can use a bow and
arrow better than a Benjaminite. You must ask him to take you hunting bustards
and partridges."
"Is it true that ravens followed you both when you served our grandfather and
Joshua, father?" Sheal asked me.
Of all our sons, Sheal resembled his mother the most and he reminded me of her
every time I looked at him. It always delighted and yet hurt me to see how
Acsah's eyes and smile lived on in Sheal.
"My sons," I told them, "Gera was my best friend when we served Joshua and Caleb
together. I wouldn't be here today but for Gera. I see one of the Levites of
Hebron escorted him. Praise the Lord that the Levites haven't forgotten how Gera
and his men helped us take Hebron!"
"Were you there too, father?" Khermesh asked.
"Somewhere," I admitted.
The newcomers walked on more quickly as if already refreshed by the prospect of
water and a welcome. They all gripped staffs, though only Gera had a bow slung
on his shoulder. It warmed my heart to see how Gera pressed forward with an air
of eagerness that belied his grey, gaunt looks.
I could wait no longer and rushed to hug Gera. I welcomed the other men while
Khermesh and Sheal offered them water, saying "We greet you in the name of the
Lord."
"We bless you in the name of the Lord," their leader answered in a booming
voice. "We thank you for your gift of water to strangers in a thirsty land." He
bowed and touched his right hand to his lips in respect before sipping from a
gourd and passing it on.
"We welcome all who come in peace, sir. Here are my sons Khermesh and Sheal, at
your service," I told my guests while I led them to the plane trees, "and here
comes Ahilud, my firstborn."
Ahilud brought a bronze basin and a jar of olives. Gera and the other men rinsed
their hands and feet, and seated themselves beneath the trees to share the
olives. They all praised my sons, and Gera added, "Sheal looks so much like his
mother. How is she?"
I had to blink away tears before I could tell Gera about Acsah's death.
"We praise the Lord for her life and what she has made of you, my friend. May
she rest in peace," Gera answered.
The leader of my guests was a burly man five years or so younger than myself. I
asked him, "So you are a Makirite, Hudaba? Joshua always praised the Makirites
for their great soldiers."
"His father served with us at Ai," Gera told me. "Don't you remember Haddar?"
"Of course!" I began asking about his father and other relatives.
Hudaba avoided my questions. "We would never have found you, Othniel, without
Gera. People everywhere turned us away with rudeness and hostility. I know that
they must stay on guard against Canaanites and wild men of no tribe, but I had
begun to wonder if we would have to fight our way into the Southland."
"We haven't forgotten that the Lord God taught us to welcome strangers," I
answered, "but we have had to learn to keep a watch over the mountain trails.
There is no lie that we in this Southland haven't heard from those who trouble
us. Honest traders travel by the Way of the Sea, and anyone else who comes this
way bears watching. We protect one another around here and we band together when
the horn sounds to warn us whenever worthless sons of Amalek and Edom come
prowling in search of easy prey. You would never have been able to pass Hebron
without Gera to speak for you."
"You do well to be careful about letting strangers within your gates, sir,"
Hudaba said, "but we haven't come to trouble you, no matter how fierce we seem.
Gera brought us because worthless men are troubling Israel."
I knew that the trouble must be bad indeed for Hudaba to drop a hint so soon
about why he had come. Much as I wanted to ask Hudaba what was on his mind, I
could not allow myself the discourtesy of asking him direct questions before he
was ready to tell me more. Seeing that night had filled the earth and my sons
had brought fresh bread and roast mutton, I began to serve my guests. The other
reapers and harvesters joined the feast while their daughters sang for us:
"Our labor was not vain,
The good Lord sent the rain,
Filling our fields with grain;
Standing grain, golden grain!
Praise his name; bless his name!"
"What a joy it is to eat well-baked bread that's not full of grit," Hudaba
praised us. "You eat well here in the Southland."
I thanked my guests and offered them honey to spread on their bread. They
devoured it so eagerly that I couldn't hide my surprise.
"We've forgotten the taste of honey," Hudaba explained.
"Why, this land used to be famous for its honey. Here in the Southland we make
beehives in the Egyptian manner," I told him. "Now it seems that we have more
honey than all the rest of Israel."
Hudaba chewed and swallowed before asking me, "Your country seems dry and empty
compared to our northern vales. Stunted scrub and wormwood cast a scanty veil
over your hills, and yet you prosper here. How do you do it?"
"The Lord cares for this land, Hudaba, my friend."
"It's more than that, Othniel," insisted a man nearly as burly as Hudaba, but
with an even thicker black beard. I recalled that he was Pelayat of Ephraim. "I
have seen that people live better here. You dwell in villages of well-built
houses with three or four rooms set around a courtyard."
"The Lord is good to us, Pelayat," I agreed. "You should know that we still keep
our weapons at our sides and it has taken us many years to build what you see."
"You would be shocked to see how many people in Israel live in tents and poor
huts that always reek of sheep and goats," Pelayat said. "Although we live in a
richer land we could do well to learn from you."
I offered my guests dried dates and figs. "It's too early for summer fruit," I
apologized. "Our figs will ripen before the east winds come, the Lord willing."
"Or the locusts," Gera added.
"The Lord forbid," Hudaba grumbled. "Aren't the Kushu bad enough?"
I knew that courtesies were over and Hudaba was ready to tell me why he had
come. "So it's the Kushu who have troubled Israel?" I asked.
"Yes, Othniel," Hudaba grumbled. "The Kushu threaten us. They are Aramaeans from
beyond the land of Bashan, and they want to enslave us. Their king,
Cushan-rishathaim--let his name be doubly cursed for his double wickedness--has
sent men to sneak into the lands of Dan and Naphtali. This boy is one of their
victims. Let him tell you of their unspeakable deeds."
Pelayat pushed forward a youth of fourteen summers, who hung his head and licked
his lips. "Go on, boy," Hudaba told him.
I beckoned the boy to come and sit by me, saying, "You may speak, my son."
"I am Gharaf ben Khoriel, of the tribe of Dan," he stammered. "The Kushu fell
upon our land like locusts. I was in the hills with our flocks when I saw fires.
I rushed home and saw our whole village blazing. Our poor huts went up in a
flash. I hid in the shadows above the village, and I saw the Kushu all gathered
in a circle around a fire the way we come together for a feast. They made games
of putting everyone in the village to death. They began slowly, one at a time.
Each man took his turn at showing off his skill with his chosen weapon."
I couldn't keep from shuddering while the boy told us how the Kushu played with
their captives until they became bored and competed at killing them with a
single stroke.
"Enough," I snapped at Hudaba. "Does evil have no bounds? Why did you have to
bring these horrors back into my dreams?"
"The memory of your dreams will fade with the dawn, Othniel," Hudaba told me,
"but the Kushu won't. They have begun to settle themselves in the lands of Dan
and Naphtali and now their raids have spread into the land of Zebulun. Our
people cannot stop them."
"Are there no more fighters in Ephraim and Manasseh? Can't you find your
fathers' weapons and whet them?" I asked.
"Othniel," Hudaba pleaded. "Israel has grown helpless since you laid down your
arms. We came to ask you to lead us because you will know how to make the Kushu
turn tail and run."
The season for threshing barley had already come, and it appalled me to think
how the heat of summer would fight against anyone who tried to go to war. Summer
heat, at that, would be the least obstacle to overcome. I wanted no part of it.
"Aren't you a Makirite yourself, Hudaba," I asked. "Aren't you the son of Haddar
of the house of Makir, the greatest soldier of Manasseh? If you can fight half
as well as you flatter me, the Aramaeans will flee seven ways from you."
"We are like sheep in the eyes of these wolves, sir," Hudaba answered. "You are
the last of the leaders who served with Joshua and Caleb. If you won't come,
what will keep Cushan-rishathaim and his Kushu from coming here to seek you out
while you enjoy the fat of your land?"
"If Manasseh has no Makirites left to take up the sword for Israel, Hudaba, I
know that it will make someone in Ephraim jealous if I lead you."
Pelayat of Ephraim argued, "No, Othniel. We are men of Ephraim and Manasseh, Dan
and Reuben, Simeon and Naphtali and Asher. We would never have journeyed this
far to seek you if our people and leaders had not been of one mind."
"My brothers, you don't know how jealousy can divide an army, do you?" I asked.
"As soon as I set foot in your land, you'll find out that you speak for very few
of your people. You'll hear murmurings against me, and you'll find men who are
willing to fight to the death against a leader from Judah, even though they’ll
never dare lift a finger against the Kushu."
"Othniel," Hudaba protested, "Pelayat and I pledge to bring together only men
who are loyal and true. We'll follow you and uphold you."
"Now tell me, what can one man--any man--do alone?" I asked. "One man can no
more stand against the Kushu than a dry leaf against the wind. What matters is
what you men of Israel will do to help yourselves. If the Lord is with you and
we slay this Cushan-rishathaim, what's to keep an even more wicked enemy from
springing up from the very earth that we water with his blood?
"Don't marvel that the Kushu have come upon you. It's the Lord's doing. Would
you restore the borders of Israel? First ask yourselves what you will do to make
the twelve tribes of Israel mighty enough to claim everything within the bounds
that the Lord has granted us? Will you pledge to rid your land of the Canaanites
and serve the Lord in faithfulness?"
My guests looked uneasy and nobody spoke. The others looked at Hudaba and waited
to hear what he would say.
"There's truth in what you say, my brother," Hudaba admitted at last. "The men
of Israel won't dig the soil or become hewers of wood for any man. That's the
work of slaves, and we have put all bondage behind us."
"What makes you think, Hudaba, that it's a greater thing to wield a sword than a
sickle, or that it's more noble to have skill with a spear than a plow? What
makes you think there's shame in any task that the Lord puts before us to feed
our families or to keep us free of bondage? I tell you that it's better for a
man to live by the work of his own hands than to live off the labor of others."
"I don't see what's wrong with putting Canaanites to work in the plains while we
tend our flocks in the hills," argued Pelayat of Ephraim. "The Lord gave them
into our hands, didn't he? Don't they know how to make this land bear fruit?
Don't the Canaanites know when the time has come to plow, to scatter the seed,
and when to reap the harvest? Don't they know how to tend each crop according to
its kind?"
"The Lord wanted us to drive out all the unbelievers from this land," I
answered. "Those Canaanites don't know a thing that you cannot learn to do
better yourselves. When you look to people like them for your bread, you might
as well give them back their lands and put yourselves in the hands of their
gods."
"We look to the Lord for our bread," Hudaba protested. "To him who gave Israel
bread in the wilderness."
"The Lord gives the harvest to those who sow their seed upon the land," I told
him. "He cast out the Canaanites and their false gods, and he gave you their
land to sow. Have you not heard? He gave us a land of milk and honey. Bread will
never be scarce and you will lack nothing if you truly make this good land your
own."
Kathar of Reuben, another of Hudaba's friends, spoke up. "You should beware,
Othniel, my friend, lest you look around at what you have done here and say, 'My
power and the strength of my hands have made this wealth for me.' The Lord will
surely bring you low one day because of your pride!"
I was so surprised at Kathar I stared at him before asking, "So, my brother, you
now say it's better for a man to take pride in doing nothing? If it's better for
me to take my ease, why should I do anything for you? Think again, my brothers.
From the strength of an ox comes an abundant harvest, and any harvest depends on
hard work. The Lord blesses the work of our hands and gives an increase."
Hudaba and his friends muttered among themselves before Hudaba spoke again.
"Does it matter what a man does or how he lives? Aren't we all wayfarers on this
earth, like our father Abraham? We're looking for a life that is to come."
I frowned and answered, "My brothers, you trouble me with your question, and I
doubt that you have the right to question me in such a way. Won't you first
fight and work and live for the Lord who gave you this land, as I have done? To
do these things is no more than remembering who we are and who brought us into
this land. It's keeping our promises to be faithful to the Lord. If you won't do
that much for yourselves, then why should I help you?"
"How wise Joshua and Caleb were," Hudaba said.
"How foolish it is for every man of Israel to go his own way and do what's right
in his own eyes with no thought for the rest," Gera added.
"So I ask you again, Hudaba, what will you do to bring the twelve tribes
together as one? Each man may be no more than a speck of dust, but together the
Lord can make Israel into a mighty rock to crush the Kushu."
I smiled when Hudaba answered, "My friends, the way you two can speak with one
mind and drive away doubts should convince anyone of the truth and wisdom of
what you say. Did the Lord go with you and did Judah and Benjamin really fight
as one for each other?"
"We kept our covenant, Hudaba, and the Lord blessed it," I assured him.
"And are you sure Caleb and the men of Judah didn't just use your Benjaminites
to do their fighting for them?" Hudaba asked Gera.
Hudaba's question annoyed me but Gera calmly answered, "We helped each other as
brothers and with no thought for ourselves. I don't know how we ever lived
through those days. We couldn't get away with doing half the things today that
we did then. The Lord fought for Israel, and we were younger."
"He's still with us," I told everyone, "if only we remember how near he is."
"You think that Israel has forgotten the nearness of our Lord, and that's why
the Kushu have come to trouble us?" Hudaba asked.
"You put words in my mouth, Hudaba," I answered.
"Could you have another reason for holding back from leading us against the
Kushu?" Hudaba asked me.
"The Lord is my witness," I protested.
"Doesn't all Israel know that your own brother lives among the Kushu?" he asked.
I winced at Hudaba's sharpness. "Hudaba, my friend," I said, "although my
brother Kenabi was angry and jealous of me, he has never lifted his hand against
me and my house. I've no wish to seek his blood. For all I know, the Lord may
have softened his heart and helped him to mend his ways. That would be a great
blessing."
"Isn't it more likely that he hasn't changed? What if Kenabi serves those who
trouble Israel?" Hudaba pressed me.
"Then he troubles me also, my friend," I admitted.
"Will you lead us against the Kushu if Kenabi is helping them?"
"Enough of this talk," I said. "It wearies me. I'll ask you for the last time:
if we help you, what will you and your tribes do to restore Israel's strength?"
"What would you have us do?" Hudaba asked. "Make a covenant with you for your
help?"
"No, let's all go up to Shechem and renew our covenant with the Lord," I told
him. "Otherwise, anything we do is in vain."
Gera hastened to support me. "If you will do that, Hudaba, we Benjaminites will
join you, though we are few. Our bowmen and slingers will fight for you against
the Kushu and show you we haven't lost our aim."
Hudaba and his friends spoke briefly among themselves, and Hudaba turned back to
me. "We see now, my friend, that Israel has two battles to fight and our
struggle against the Kushu is the lesser of the two. We ask you in the name of
the Lord to help us in both."
I jumped up and reached down to pull Hudaba to his feet. "In His name I will
come, my brothers," I assured them, "and in need of His strength."
Gharaf knelt before me. "I praise the Lord that you'll lead us," he said. "Will
you do me one favor, sir? Let me be your armor bearer!"
The youth's eagerness came like a sign from the Lord and as his blessing upon
our decision. My throat tightened as I lifted Gharaf from his knees and told
him, "My son, now that I am full of years I shall be glad of your help."
Clearing my throat, I said firmly to my guests, "May the Lord be with us as we
prepare for our tasks."
"Yes indeed, my friend," Hudaba answered. "Now, if we first call the tribes
together to renew the covenant, who'll listen? No, we should deal first with the
Kushu and their king, cursed be his name. Then the tribes will listen.
"We pledge to put our own houses in order and to bring together all those of a
fighting age. You shall teach them as Joshua and Caleb taught you. If the Lord
is with you and against Cushan-rishathaim, then more and more men will come to
our side."
Pelayat added, "Let me warn you, Othniel, not to look for thousands of men from
Israel. Few long for war, and many would rather be the dogs and swine of a Kushu
than die."
"They'll know better when they hear your story, won't they?" I asked Gharaf.
"They have hearts of stone if they don't rise up in anger against the Kushu,
sir," Gharaf answered.
Pleased with the youth, I let him go and told the others, "Praise the Lord. May
we never forget what the Lord has done for Israel. Now, my friends, is it too
much to ask you each to find ten men to meet me at Shechem?"
Pelayat thought it over and doubtfully consented, "Well, we'll always have some
among us who'll seize any chance to leave the reaping and threshing to others."
"We shall teach them to be leaders of hundreds and thousands," I told him.
"When do you want these men?" Hudaba asked.
Now that they had all decided what to do, my thoughts turned to what we must do
next.
"Will you go back to Shechem and prepare for my coming in about ten days? I need
to search Judah for men and supplies before I meet you at Shechem. There, with
the Lord's help, we shall begin to probe the Kushu. We need to find out all
about them so we can decide how to fight them."
Hudaba and his friends agreed. They left with Gera the next morning, leaving
Gharaf with me. Gera said that he would guide the Israelites through the hill
country of Judah and as far as his home, where he would search for bowmen and
slingers to follow him to Shechem. "I have a son of my own," he added, "and
he'll want to come too."
When I sent my guests on their way with a blessing, Gharaf stood beside me
holding my old hide-covered shield and the spear that once belonged to Shikha. I
had cut a new shaft for it years ago, but its iron point gleamed like new. While
it never had any lighting or other power of its own, my spear was as keen as
ever and able to pierce the best bronze armor in the world. Only the Hittites
can make anything like it to this day.
"The Lord be with you," Gharaf told his friends in an eager voice.
"And with you, my son," they answered. Pelayat offered the youth his own dagger,
but Gharaf thanked him and told him, "I want to win my own weapons in battle,
sir, just as many of you did."
"May the Lord be with you, my son," Pelayat answered softly. "Though I fear that
men of Israel may be slow to come to Shechem, I shall bring my own sons."
