Idol Smashers – Part Six

dreamer

“Idol Smashers” is a work of fiction set in the biblical era of the Judges.  Apart from persons mentioned in the Bible, it is entirely fiction and presented here in serial form strictly for the entertainment of my readers.  “Idol Smashers” is an original work, copyright Brett Best, 2011.

Day  One – Heshonib

(Previously, in Idol Smashers: As these heroes of Israel have begun their mission, they were lead to the remote village Heshonib where they found a miraculous message from God demanding all the villagers be killed for their idolatry.)

The countenance of the men all took on a grim aspect as the significance of the message hit them.

“The LORD has spoken,” Maaz said firmly.

“Now wait a moment,” Ammihud cautioned.  “Wait a moment.  You’re sure these words were not carved by the hand of man… ?”

Barek and Jezreel exchanged looks.  “Definitely.  No instrument wielded by a man burns brick,” Jezreel responded.

Mattan’s face was ashen.  He busied himself with the teraphim, and then spoke suddenly.  “These are burst from within!  What craft could accomplish this destruction of wooden, clay, stone and metal idols?  All destroyed from within, but all of them are made of different materials.  My masters, this was a supernatural act!”

Taking the idol from Mattan, Micah turned it over and looked at the bottom.  His mouth set in a line, he showed it to Maaz.

“That’s the same mark!” Maaz exclaimed.

“What?  What mark?” Caleb queried.

Micah handed the idol to Caleb and pointed out the figure carved on the base.  “This mark.  It was carved on the base of the Asherah pole at the top of the hill.”  As Caleb examined the mark for himself, Micah turned all the idols over.  “Underneath all these idols – on the base – a marking is inscribed.  It looked to me like a man dancing.”

“That is a trader’s mark,” Caleb said.  “It is meant to identify the craftsman so that others will buy his wares.  Should we find out who this mark identifies, we will find the supplier of these idols.”

“To what end?” Maaz demanded curtly.  “It matters not how they came to be here.  The message is unequivocal.  We must obey the LORD and end the lives of these foul idolaters!”  He smashed his iron-shod goad on the ground to punctuate his point.

Ammihud stepped forward, not intimidated.  “A moment, brother.  As you cannot replace a life once it is taken.  We must be certain.”  He held out his hand to Caleb and, receiving the idol, looked carefully at the base.  He set it down thoughtfully and took time to look at  the entire circle of words around them.

Finally, he spoke.  “I believe we must deal with the Heshonibites as instructed.”

“Yes,” Maaz seconded.

“BUT,” Ammihud continued.  “I do not believe our mission ends there.  There are villages like this all over Israel.  We must admit it.  Why would the LORD single out this one?”

“As a warning to all idolaters,” Maaz quickly explained.

“Yes, that,” Ammihud agreed, but began pacing and thinking aloud.  “But more than that.  There was something else going on here.  What if the LORD exposed this village in this way to give us a warning?  We must follow all trails until we understand WHY this happened.”

Joseph moved to stand next to Ammihud.  “What he lacks in stature, our brother makes up for with insight.”  Joseph smiled down at Ammihud.  “I agree.  My dreams have been troubled of late.  Just two nights ago I saw a pile of broken idols.  The LORD told me to sweep them away, for beneath them I would find something more evil at work.”

“What happened?” Mattan asked.  “What did you find?”

“I awoke before I could sweep them away.”

Maaz snorted.  “Prophets and their dreams.  Well, what of it?  We can destroy this place, then the pagans who lived here, THEN go chasing idol-makers.  First things need doing first, my father always said.”

“All right, all right,” Ammihud said.  He walked over and swept the idols off the side of the well and dropped the one he was holding beside them.  “I agree.  But we all must be agreement on this, for blood will be on our hands.  If it is the LORD’s will, then I shall take up vengeful arms beside you.”  He held up his two short-fingered hands.  “But I want no innocent blood on these hands.”

“Nor do I,” Joseph said, one prophet agreeing with the other.  “But I am fully convinced.  They must die.  All of them.”

Barek picked up a handful of dirt and then dropped it on the ruined idols at their feet.  “Let’s bury them, then uncover the whole truth.”

“You can count on me,” Caleb said, stepping forward.

“It’s awful work, but the Lord’s will must be done,” Jezreel said, nodding.

Micah simply said, “I agree,” and put his hand on his sword.

“Very well then,” Maaz said soberly.  “Let’s destroy this village and then the villagers.”

“But we’re freeing the animals,” Joseph said.  “They are innocent beasts.  Let the Lord do with them as He wills.  Set them free.”

“All of them?” Mattan said, suddenly joining the conversation.’  “There’s a great deal of…  a tithe could be…”  Seeing the determined looks on the faces around him, he simply sat down on the well and muttered, “My masters know best.”

“Seems we ought to get started,” Micah said, an eye on the sky.  “It’ll be dark soon enough.”

Ammihud turned to Mattan.  “How far away is the secret cave in which you’re holding the Heshonibites?”

“Oh, master, it is on the other side of the city.  We should not expect to have all this done before sundown,” Mattan replied, his eyes darting to each face.  “I would not advise going there in the evening.  The people of Aphek will become suspicious if we go out again after dark.  Our secrecy will be lost, I fear.”

“We should not delay in obeying the will of the LORD,” Maaz protested.

“Really,” Ammihud said, crossing his arms.  “You are a tiresome fellow.  I agree with Mattan.  You remember how Deborah herself pledged us to secrecy, only this morning?  Would you risk violating that pledge?”

Maaz was about to answer when Micah put a hand on his arm.  “Besides, we can’t risk any of them escaping into the night.  Remember the message – ‘all must be killed’.”

When Micah did not wither under the glare of his brother-in-law, Maaz conceded, “Very well.  How I wish Deborah had left me in charge!”

“One more thing, if I may – without sounding impudent?” Mattan asked quietly.

“Yes – what?” Ammihud asked.

“You may wish to question the villagers before putting them to the sword.  Something may be gained from their words that helps your subsequent investigations.”

“You can’t trust the word of idolaters,” Caleb objected.

“Of course not, my master.  But… as there is some truth in every lie, we can perhaps gain some morsels of truth from them.”

There seemed to be general agreement that Mattan spoke wisely.

“Let’s burn this place and cleanse the earth on which it stands,” Maaz said slowly.

 

They rode out of Heshonib just after sunset, seven figures silhouetted against the burning village.

Upon their return to the home of Mattan, the men washed in silence.  The savory smells of food cooking did nothing to lift their spirits.  They encircled the room and standing, lifted their faces, and offered prayers of thanksgiving to God.

After they were all seated on mats on the floor, Mattan’s servant set forth the supper he had prepared.  The new day had begun at sunset, but it was not welcomed during the meal as was customary.  There was no conversation that included all of them.  Instead, scattered snatches of talk in low voices was the only sound accompanying their eating.

Mattan was mostly silent and subdued.  This was quite out of character, but he was taking his cue from the men Deborah had sent him.

For their part, the seven were both introspective and weary.  The day had begun with the promise of worship and feasting.  It had taken many unexpected turns since then, and to a man, they felt as if it had been a long journey.

One by one, they thanked and blessed their host, then took their belongings to the roof and lay down to sleep.

 

Joseph’s sleep was troubled.  Deborah was before him, angrily remonstrating him.  “Why did the LORD destroy those idols?” she demanded, her voice stretched thin to keep from shouting outright.  “That was a miraculous sign to point to something, but what?!”  Joseph was not given time to answer.  He felt panicked, his throat constricted.  Why was she angry with him?  How had he failed her?  How could he have done better?  “Answer me!” Deborah cried.  “Tell me the answer!”

Awaking with a start, Joseph sat up.  Barek alone was still awake.  He nodded at Joseph, a sympathetic look on his face.

Without a sound, Joseph padded downstairs and through Mattan’s home into the courtyard.  The dream had disturbed him – deeply.  He needed to pray and think before attempting to sleep again.

 

For his part, Barek found sleep elusive.  He was weary, but his mind was troubled by what the upcoming day would bring.  The notion of destroying an entire village was… well, it was something his ancestors had done when they took possession of the Promised Land, but those were tales of people long gone.  The deed seemed difficult to contemplate when it would be his sword, his hand.  Surely there would be women.  Children.  Perhaps babies.  Part of him understood the reason for the LORD’s command, but another part was repulsed by it.

“There must be another way,” Barek mused.  It was half thought and half prayer.  Barek lifted his eyes to the starlit horizon, searching for an answer.

His thoughts were interrupted by a noise behind him.  Joseph had awakened.  His sleep had apparently been uneasy.

Not wanting to awaken the others, Barek merely nodded at Joseph, thinking, I share your disturbance, brother.

He watched Joseph step downstairs with a grace that was something a man had to learn and then practice.  Barek thought about Joseph for a moment.  A prophet, certainly but he had not always been a holy man.

Barek returned his gaze and thoughts to the stars.

 

Ammihud turned over.  He noted with some irritation that the cool night air would be more tolerable in his own home.  Then he dismissed the complaint as unworthy of a prophet on a mission from God.  After some moments of silent prayer, sleep finally claimed him.

He was surprised to be back at the Tabernacle.  Or what was left of it.  An old man wailed in grief among the ashes of what had been the Tent of Meeting.

Ammihud was stunned to see it destroyed.  Tears began to stream down his own face as he mourned the loss of Israel’s most sacred site.  “How has it come to this?” he wondered, both aggrieved and enraged.

The old man stood suddenly, and started walking backwards around the Tabernacle.  As he walked, backwards, the ashes turned to flame and the flame raced up the sides of the Tent itself and it’s fabric outer wall, restoring both!  The man paced around the Tabernacle to the rising and setting of five suns!

With a sharp breath, Ammihud was awake.  The LORD spoke to him more often in portents and in the words of the scrolls than in dreams, but there was no doubt in Ammihud’s mind that this startling dream was a revelation from Yahweh!

The stiffness of sleep slowed his motions, but Ammihud turned over.  He was startled to see Micah looking at him!  A few cubits away, the man’s eyes stared at him vacantly.  What was going on here?  “Am I still dreaming?” Ammihud wondered.

Then he looked up and saw that Maaz was sitting up.  Seated on the other side of Micah, Maaz must have noted the look of surprise on Ammihud’s face.

“Sleeps with his eyes open,” Maaz whispered.  “My sister says you get used to it.”

Troubled by the dream, Ammihud was in no mood to converse about Micah’s sleeping habits.  He rolled back on his side, facing away from Maaz and Micah’s sleep-gaze.  As he turned, Ammihud saw Barek was also sitting up, but his head bowed forward.

“What have I got myself into?” he wondered, and not for the last time.

 

Caleb would have preferred to dream about the livestock they’d released before destroying Heshonib.  About all of them herding themselves into his pen at the seller’s market.  Instead, the animal in his dream was some kind of cat, over-sized and ferocious.  It’s giant, black paw lashed out of the darkness.  Caleb ducked, but he was not the intended target.  Surprisingly, the animal was slashing the Tent of Meeting.  The Tabernacle was being torn to shreds!

When he reached out to fend off the blows, putting himself in harm’s way, Caleb awoke.  He was on his back, looking at the stars.  The sounds of the other men sleeping soothed him and he dismissed the dream, going back to sleep.

 

The seven were restless and woke Mattan before dawn.  He was not easily roused, but when he realized who it was that stood around him, Mattan hoisted his ample frame off the mat.

“Yes, my masters,” he said with a yawn.  “Let me see that water is brought, and some food.”

He stumbled out of the room and into the courtyard.

Caleb yawned and stretched.  “Brothers, you should have left Mattan and I to rest at least until sunrise.  This is hardly civil treatment.”

Maaz merely grunted and began pacing.

“I could wait no longer,” Micah commented, but was unable to stifle a yawn of his own.

“My sleep was broken by a dream – a nightmarish portent,” Joseph said, seeking each man’s eye.  “I dreamed that Deborah was rebuking me for not having investigated this matter fully.  There is more to this than what has happened in Heshonib.  The destruction of those idols was meant by the LORD to alert us to something.  An even greater evil, whose path merely crossed at Heshonib.”

“I can tell you where that evil will descend and when,” Ammihud added, hurriedly.

“What is this…” Maaz said derisively, “dueling prophets?”

Joseph waved him off and spoke to Ammihud.  “What did you see, brother?”

Sparing a withering glance at Maaz, Ammihud answered, “I saw the Tabernacle as a smoldering ruin.  An old man – perhaps the High Priest Ulla – wept at its destruction.  Then he stood and walked backward as the Tent was restored.  He walked backward as the sun rose and set five times.”

“The Tabernacle is in danger, and the danger will fall before the next Sabbath,” Joseph said, thinking aloud.  “This is a warning to us.  We must resolve this mystery quickly to see the Tabernacle spared.”

“My interpretation exactly,” Ammihud said, nodding.

“The Tabernacle?” Maaz cried, stepping to the two prophets.  “Who would dare raise a hand against the sanctuary, our beloved Tent of Meeting?!”

Ammihud looked sheepish.  “The hand of the arsonists was not revealed in my dream.”

“Nor in mine,” Joseph seconded.

“Say,” Caleb interjected.  “I had a dream too.  There was a… giant cat.”

“Cat?” Micah interrupted, his eyes narrowing.  “A cat, you say?”

Caleb was taken aback by this kind of attention.  “Um.  Yes.  I guess so.  I don’t remember much, I was, uh, I was sleeping at the time.”

Joseph turned and, stepping to the other side of the smaller man, put his hand on his shoulder.  “And what did this giant cat do?”

Caleb considered Joseph for a moment, then seemed reassured and continued, “It… lashed out with it’s claws and tore the Tabernacle to shreds.”

“Ha!” Ammihud exclaimed and slapped Maaz in the chest with the back of his hand.  “See there?  The Tabernacle, I tell you!

Maaz was about to answer when Barek, who was standing by the door, said, “Brothers, let us discuss this at another time.”

No one spoke as Mattan entered.  He was suddenly conscious of the silence and seven pairs of eyes on him.  He was at a loss to understand why.

“Pardon the delay.  My boy is… unaccustomed to service this time of the morning…” he offered, by way of explanation for the delay.

Six of the men took their seats.

Joseph said, “It is of no consequence, Mattan.  This day holds a difficult task before us and we would have it over with.  We wait at your leisure.”  With that, he turned and sat down, regarding Barek with a curious look.  What had prompted him to keep secrets from Mattan?  Joseph vowed he would find out later.

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