Jonah
seeing that the vanquished do not expect to be plundered, raped, and
murdered with the same methodical energy by their own people as by
strangers.”
And he added humbly, “Is it likely that God in His infinite wisdom
should see this any less clearly than I do?”
When Jonah had supped on lettuce, olives, and wine, he left his host
and went out to walk in the city. The night was cold, and the odor of
the streets mingled with the sweet aroma of earth. He filled his lungs
with the clear air of the hills, stained by the smoke of fires and the
sour smell of wine; he heard about him in the gloom the lazy hum of the
city, the faint, sharp chime of voices, far-off cries, the crowing of a
cock, the creak of a water-wheel.
He thought, “Here is thy home, O Israel, in the land of thy God.”
And he gazed in silence and with a heart overflowing with reverence at
the sky, blue with night, above the roofs of Bethel.
In the morning, pale but confident, he presented himself before the
king.
Seated upon a golden throne in his palace of broadstone, his hair and
beard glistening with oil, and surrounded by proud and bearded nobles,
Jeroboam listened with attention to what the prophet had to say.
Then he asked for the opinion of Amaziah, who stood at the side of the
throne. The old priest hesitated a moment, before replying in a grave
voice:
“Who am I to question the will of the Almighty? A war against Aram is
a holy war, since God Himself desires it. This prophet speaks in a
voice of heavenly wisdom. I foresee that your soldiers will rush with
impetuous enthusiasm upon a foe by no means prepared to defend himself.
I shudder to think of such carnage. However, your commands are mine, O
King.”
So saying, he withdrew. Jeroboam then passed around a large feather
given him by Jonah as proof of his prophetic mission. A noble who
looked after the royal falcons remarked,
“This indeed must be the feather of an angel, for it is larger than
that of an eagle, which it favors in color, although it is more divine
in appearance.”
The king next asked for the opinion of Ahab, who owned a great deal of
land bordering on the country of Aram. This prince, whose beard curled
like an Assyrian’s, spoke without hesitation in favor of war. In a dry
voice he declared,
“It stands to reason that God would prefer His own people to have the
pasture lands which obviously belong to them, according to geography,
history, and the opinion of every right-minded person. I only wonder
that He did not think of it before.”
The young prince Absalom, who had more than fifty wives, exclaimed in
ringing tones,
“I am in favor of war, to teach these barbarians to know and worship
the God of the Jews.” And he held up his sword, the handle of which was
carved to represent the Adonis of Sidon, to whose inexhaustible vigor
the prince sacrificed, every spring, a ram and a cock.
This speech of Absalom’s was received with acclaim by the nobles. The
next day the armies of Israel, led by the king, and accompanied by more
than a thousand priests of Adonis, Astarte, Kemosh, Melcarth, the local
Baalim, and the Holy Ark, set out for the frontiers of Aram.
II
Night came gently down over Israel. The darkness of earth slid like
a shadow across the rocks stained by the sunset. Calm and deep the
sea of Cinnereth reflected the stars whose lights gleamed upon the
trans-Jordanic hills. There the desert slept; while in the north the
lights of Tyre shone upon the sea.
The village herds returned from their pastures. Then the roads
of Zebulon resounded with the tonk of bells, as the cows with
sweet-smelling breath wound down from the hills. The day was over, and
their stalls awaited them. Melancholy and austere, they parted from
each other without regret.
Aaron, the brother of Jonah, walked behind them. In his hand he carried
a rod with which he beat now and then upon the flanks of the animals
nearest him. Then they rushed forward, clumsily, to avoid the blows
which fell upon them without force.
The young man enjoyed this hour of the day, when he strode home through
the village, driving the herds before him. He was proud to be in charge
of the village cows. His mother also was proud of him; she foresaw an
important future for him. “Always do your best,” she said. “However,”
she added, “do not tire yourself out. And in case of robbers, or a
lion, please come home; and do not make a fool of yourself.”
“Well,” the young man would say, twirling his stick, “we’ll see about
that.”
Aaron did not think that his brother led a very sensible life. To live
all alone in the desert seemed to him a nonsensical thing to do, and
he felt sure that his mother agreed with him. Else why did she shake
her head so sadly, and heave such a sigh, when she spoke of her eldest
son? As a matter of fact, she relived in Jonah, but very faintly, the
dreamy, mild, religious ecstasy of her maidenhood. That was all over
for her now; life had long ago got down to being practical. Besides,
one did not hear so much about God as when she was a girl. Still, she
remembered the beauty of those times, when her heart beat with joy
and love, when a sweet unrest brought her to her knees, and she felt
through her prayers the breath of holiness upon her cheek.
No, one did not hear nowadays so much about God. Take Aaron, for
example: as he came home from the pastures at evening, he bent his
head before the golden bull which adorned the wayside shrine. In the
spring he enjoyed the feasts of the Passover; and he also enjoyed the
celebrations in honor of Astarte and Adonis, in company with the other
young men of the village. The problems of theology did not concern him;
he simply wished to enjoy himself, and to get on in the world. To
do that, one did something about it; one began by taking care of the
village herds. Then one could look confidently to the future, and leave
God to dispute with other people about what He looked like.
When the last of the cattle was safely housed, Aaron turned back to his
own home, and entering the yard gate, walked toward the kitchen from
whose open door a rosy glow spread over the yard. Jonah was at home;
and Aaron stood a moment in the doorway, gazing with a smile at his
mother, who was preparing supper. Deborah kept one eye on the oven,
and the other on her elder son, who, with a small cake of bread in his
hand, was relating to her some incidents of the Aramæan campaign. She
wished to know if Hamath was as large as Salem, or Bethel.
“It is larger than Bethel,” replied Jonah, “but not as large as
Jerusalem.” Deborah sighed happily; it was something to have traveled
as much as that.
“The armies of Aram,” said Jonah, biting into the coarse bread, “were
drawn up in a truly terrifying array. I saw a number of men seated upon
ostriches, so I knew that we were obliged to battle against demons. Not
in the least frightened, our men rushed at the foe in an irresistible
manner. Nevertheless, they would have been beaten, and were already
in flight, when the High Priest Amaziah appeared upon a nearby hill,
and announced that the King of Aram with all his generals had been
consumed by a thunderbolt. At this our men decided to turn once more
upon the foe, who retreated in confusion, and we rushed triumphantly
forward into the enemy’s camp, where we surprised and killed a number
of generals, including the King of Aram, and his High Priest.
“When our victorious armies arrived at the gates of Hamath, Prince
Absalom came out to greet us, accompanied by the women of the town
bearing flowers and bowls of wine for our thirsty soldiers. This noble
prince, disguised as a Syrian, had left the battle-field before the
armies had begun to fight, and had gone quietly off to prepare our
welcome in the city, where he knew a number of prominent people. It is
faith joined to foresight of this nature that has made Israel great.”
He was silent; the light from the oven glowed upon his face, which
shone with enthusiasm and love. He thought to himself, “All Israel
resounds with my glory. There is a new prophet; and his name is Jonah.”
And he added, humbling himself before God,
“I understand that this is Your doing.”
Anxious that Deborah should know of his part in his country’s history,
he mumbled shyly, with his mouth full,
“The King considers me a greater prophet even than Amos of Tekoa.”
“Well,” said Deborah sensibly, “why not?” Coming up to Jonah, she
smoothed his hair with her hand, and gazed at him anxiously. “What
a trouble you are to me,” she said gently; “making wars and such
mischief. Well....”
Seeing her younger son standing in the doorway, she called to him:
“Come in, Aaron, here is your brother Jonah. He has just made a war.
Tschk ... you would think there was nothing but fighting in the world.”
Aaron came into the room, and went up to Jonah with frank curiosity. He
wished to know all about it, and he asked innumerable questions. When
he learned that Jonah had not brought home any gold ornaments, or rich
shawls, he was disappointed.
“No, really,” he exclaimed, “what is the good of a war like that?” And
he sat sulkily down in a corner.
But Deborah took Jonah’s part. “No, Aaron,” she said, “that would be
all right for you; if you made a war, I should expect you to come home
with something, a colored shawl for me, or some gold bracelets. But
Jonah is different; and living in the desert, the way he does, gives
him ideas. Better a war far away, like this one, than like what we
used to have in your father’s time, right under my nose, killing and
fighting all day long.”
She turned to Jonah with a sigh. “Why,” she exclaimed, “did you choose
the Aramæans to make a war with? Such wild people.” She shook her head
ruefully. “Always trouble,” she decided; “never what would be sensible.
“At any rate,” she wound up, “perhaps you’ll settle down now for a
while and let your mother look after you, instead of living all alone
in a desert with foxes.
“Ak, what an old coat you have.”
She went back to her oven with a smile; cheerful and loving, she found
in everything some cause for satisfaction, or at least hope, if she was
given time enough. And she sang now, under her breath, as she always
did when she was disturbed or happy--for happiness or sorrow, either
one, disturbed only a little her amiable, confused spirit:
“_Men dead long ago
Have set me like a tree.
Let the wind blow,
What is that to me?
My roots are in their dust,
My roots are deep, I trust.
My son is at my knee._”
Jonah looked at her with a gloomy but tender expression. “Mother,” he
said, “what is the matter with my coat? Because it is old? It does me
very well. Must I also be a beauty, to suit you?”
After supper Deborah’s brother David came in to see Jonah. He also
wished to know about the war, concerning which he had heard rumors.
“Well,” he said to his sister, “so we have actually a prophet in our
family. I congratulate you. We could afford to give a little party in
honor of this.”
And he looked around him with pride.
“No, really,” cried Jonah; “what an idea.” He blushed to think of it.
But his uncle peered angrily at him from under his shaggy eyebrows.
“So,” he said slowly, “that is the kind of prophet you are, then. You
think only of yourself, but what about your family? Do you imagine we
have so many opportunities to give feasts, and call in the neighbors?
Or have you done something to be ashamed of? When an honor comes to
us, that is the time to talk about it.”
Aaron agreed with his uncle, although he did not see what they had to
be proud of. “We are no better off than before,” he complained, “seeing
that Jonah brought home nothing with him from the war.”
“What?” exclaimed Uncle David. “What a pity.” He wagged his old head