by Mesu Andrews
Dinah felt herself blush to the roots of her blonde hair, but if Job was willing to speak plainly, she would find no better time to ask her questions than now. “What about your other children? Do your other sons have wives? Do you have grandchildren?”
“I have seven sons and three daughters,” he said. “Six of my sons are married, but El Shaddai has not yet blessed my household with grandchildren.”
Job started to explain further, but Dinah interrupted. “Why is it that you don’t offer me to your unmarried son?”
Job’s answer came quickly, and he was seemingly unperturbed by her boldness. “My youngest is barely thirty and not yet ready for marriage. Though the men of Esau’s clan are expected to marry at age twenty—so the Edomite tribes grow quickly—I ask my sons to wait until they are thirty so I can teach them the ways of the Most High. I believe they should rule their hearts before they rule their households.” He looked at her, lingering as if he wanted to say more, but then shook his head. “I ask my daughters to wait beyond marriageable age as well—until they are twenty—before I find a suitable husband for them, in order that they too can learn Yahweh’s teachings.”
“Your daughters learn the ways of the Most High? I didn’t know women were allowed to see the sacred writings.” Dinah almost shouted her amazement.
Job lifted an eyebrow, measuring her before he answered. “I don’t actually possess the covenant writings. Those belong to your abba—the bearer of the covenant blessing—but I have the knowledge of El Elyon’s teachings from my days in the House of Shem. I teach young men from many tribes. In fact, one of my pupils from the tribe of Nahor, Abraham’s brother, will soon marry our youngest daughter.”
A shadow of sadness swept over Job’s face. Smoke rose from the fire, and he waved it away. “Great-Abba Esau doesn’t really care who learns El Shaddai’s ways. He is angry, however, that my family’s delayed marriages slow down the growth of his Edomite clan.” A little mischief dawned on Job’s expression. “But he doesn’t complain about my children’s education as long as the other Edomites marry young and produce offspring like desert rabbits.” Job chuckled.
Dinah nearly bit off her tongue to keep from cursing hateful Uncle Esau, but one bright spot suddenly glimmered in her dreary thoughts. “Could I learn the ways of the Most High with your daughters?” As soon as the words slipped out of her mouth, she wondered if she’d gone too far. Job’s eyes sparked, and his expression was a puzzle.
“Yes!” Job shouted, raising a victorious fist in the air. “I was hoping you would. Oh, Dinah, when you know El Shaddai’s ways, you always have hope, always have answers to your questions.”
Had such a wonderful opportunity ever been laid before her? Dinah could most certainly live as the second wife of a husband who was “not unkind” in order to learn more of El Shaddai.
“Thank you, Job.” Her heart was as full as the baskets of herbs he’d purchased for her in Elath. “And thank you for the generous gift of medicines and spices. You have been too kind to me already.”
Oop-oop-oop. Dinah glanced in every direction to find the source of the now familiar hoopoe bird’s song. Oop-oop-oop. Fluttering near a fissure on the cliff face, a pink-and-black-crested hoopoe tucked in pieces of scrub to soften its rocky nesting place.
Job must have followed her gaze. “Ah, we’ve been blessed with good fortune for the last leg of our journey.”
Dinah’s furrowed brow voiced her question.
“My mother said the hoopoe is carved into Egyptian tombs as a symbol of joy and affection.” Nogahla nodded her head as if she’d offered the definitive word on the subject.
Job and Dinah exchanged amused grins before Job offered another bit of lore. “And Zophar says the traders of the Far East think the little bird brings good luck.”
Dinah turned to study the little creature, whose flight resembled a moth more than a bird. “But Job, I heard you and Grandfather Isaac say El Shaddai considers the hoopoe unclean.” She looked into the strong features of the man who would become her father-in-law. An honest man who knew Yahweh’s teachings. “How can something unclean bring joy or luck?” Looking into the dying embers, she swallowed back emotions, regained control. “How can something unclean gain anyone’s affection?”
Job spoke quietly but without hesitation. “El Elyon judges acts and animals unclean in order to protect His people. We were created in the image of our Creator and are never irrevocably unclean or unredeemable.” He paused. In the lingering silence, she looked up and found him awaiting her gaze. “Yahweh loves you more than He loves the hoopoe, Dinah.”
A mighty gust of wind swirled dust and rocks around them, and she covered her face with the blanket.
“Master Job!” the guide shouted. “We must leave now! A storm is coming in!”
Job felt strangely unsettled. Dinah’s fears, the sudden storm . . . but most of all he wondered why his guide seemed in such a hurry to reach Uz tonight.
The strange storm raged. Wind and lightning, but no rain. “Let’s get going,” he said to Dinah. “This storm is coming in fast.” Job wiped his hand over his face. Feeling a fine layer of grit, he covered his face with his red and white shmagh, leaving only a small slit for his eyes.
Both women ran toward the animals, and Job kicked dust onto the embers of dung chips. His heart was pounding like the hooves of Zophar’s Sabean horses. Had the storm quickened his pulse, or was it his concern about the guide? Job hurried toward the camels and helped Dinah step into her saddle.
“I’ve invited Nogahla to ride with me,” she said, offering the servant girl a firm support as she climbed onto the spitting beast. “The view from atop my camel is much better.” Dinah quickly shouted instructions at one of the servants to tie Nogahla’s donkey to her camel’s hind harness.
Job grinned beneath his shmagh and marveled at the woman soon to be his daughter-in-law. What other mistress would be so considerate of her maid? He’d seen the fear on Nogahla’s face when the storm began, but he would never have dreamed a mistress would share her saddle with a maid. “Will you both fit in the same saddle?” he shouted, moving toward his own camel.
Dinah feigned offense, raising her voice above the storm. “Well, Master Job, are you saying that Nogahla and I have been eating too many candied dates?” Her sapphire blue eyes sparkled, the only part of her visible beneath Jacob’s uniquely woven head cloth.
“Yes, Mistress Dinah. You and your girl are as fat as oxen,” Job said as he climbed aboard his own mount, dodging a corded bracelet Dinah flung at him. It was carried away on the violent wind.
“Oh!” Dinah growled, and the little serving maid let out her own huff. Dinah leaned down to whisper something to the girl, whose white smile escaped between the folds of her head scarf.
The guide was waving wildly to get under way, and this time Job agreed—they must hurry home. But even as the thought crossed his mind, the weight of it pierced his heart. Would Sitis welcome him, or would they resume their argument about Sayyid where they’d left off? And how would Ennon receive Dinah? Would he see beyond her reputation and appreciate the beautiful woman beneath the rumors?
The darkening sky split with jagged bolts of lightning. Servants feverishly tried to light torches, but the wind licked away the flames before the fire could ignite.
“We can’t wait!” the guide shouted.
Job nodded and waved the caravan forward. Their final approach was under blackening skies along the mountain ridge road. Relying solely on the camel’s sure-footed instincts, riders wrapped their faces against blowing debris. El Shaddai, help us. On a road that could normally be traveled three camels abreast, single file was necessary as the sky grew darker, the sun completely hidden behind the steep sandstone cliffs and slate gray clouds.
Job followed closely behind the guide, Dinah and Nogahla on the third camel, with the rest of the caravan following as close as was safe in the raging wind. He kept a watchful eye on Dinah and Nogahla. The women moved gracefully as one,
wrapped in a blanket to shield against the cold wind and flying dust.
No rain, only wind and lightning, he marveled. An odd storm indeed.
When the caravan finally reached Uz’s city gates, Job’s sense of dread deepened. The market was empty, the merchants’ stalls deserted. At this time of day, the city was usually buzzing with activity—last-minute haggling, merchants closing their booths, children hurrying home with full water jars. But tonight the natural plateau on which the city’s first sector sat resembled a graveyard. Small stones rolled by like desert scrub.
“Come on. Let’s get into the siq!” Job’s guide shouted above the distant thunder, leading the caravan toward the narrow split in the high red cliffs. “Single file! Leave plenty of space between the animals.” The guide shouted his instructions but waited for no one. He disappeared into the narrow cleft between two towering walls of rock.
Job turned and saw terror in both women’s eyes. Dinah began shaking her head. “No!” she cried. “This can’t be Uz!” The rest of the caravan arrived on the plateau and entered the city gates, anxious to continue home. But Dinah’s fear halted them. “What are those caves carved into the mountainside? Where are the houses?” She pointed at the tattered curtains flapping at the entrance of the beggars’ dwellings and then spotted the empty merchants’ booths. “Where are all the people, Job? I’m not going into that . . . that . . . siq until you tell me what’s beyond it. I don’t even think my camel will fit between those rock walls!”
Job tried to imagine Dinah’s first impression of his city—a deserted market, a violent storm, and troglodyte dwellings dotting the mountain’s face. He guided his camel toward Dinah and Nogahla, trying to calm them before panic spread. “Dinah, look at me!” Job shouted above the storm. “I promise your camel will fit through those walls. A new life awaits you beyond that siq.” Both women seemed to calm some. “Now listen. There is a slight descent as we enter the siq. Lean all the way back on your saddle. The camel knows the way, and its footing is sure. Close your eyes if you’re frightened.”
The little serving maid nodded readily, but Dinah didn’t look as quick to trust.
“Dinah,” Job said, “if you can’t trust me, at least believe that El Shaddai has brought you here for His purpose. Can you do that?”
Dinah paused. Job was learning that her answers were never impulsive or halfhearted. “I trust you and El Shaddai for whatever lies beyond the siq,” she said.
In the courage he saw in her misty blue eyes, Job too believed he could trust El Shaddai for what lay ahead.
6
~Job 1:13–14~
One day when Job’s sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, a messenger came to Job.
Dust and debris stung Dinah’s face as the desert wind continued its fury. “Mistress, I’m scared.” Nogahla leaned back into Dinah’s chest, and she could feel the girl’s whole body trembling.
Job’s camel slowly made its way into the narrow siq, stepping down and skidding on the red sandstone grade. Dinah watched as he followed his own instructions, leaning back on his saddle, his broad shoulders resting against his Bactrian’s second hump. Dinah’s camel languidly chewed its cud from side to side and then began its descent without prodding when Job’s beast cleared the path.
Nogahla cried out above the noisy wind gusts. “Miss . . . nah! I . . . scared!”
“No crying!” Dinah sounded braver than she felt, but she had to maintain some level of composure or dissolve into another fit of hysteria. Grasping the reins with white knuckles, she squeezed her eyes shut as Job suggested. Trying to think of anything but tumbling into oblivion, Dinah began reliving her most recent humiliating display. Fear had overwhelmed her when she saw Uz. She was a seasoned traveler with Abba Jacob’s camp through many terrains in all kinds of weather. But these red Edomite mountains were as imposing as Uncle Esau himself, and the eerie caves and deserted market sent dread racing through her. An unspoken voice had warned her of unseen danger.
“Good, Dinah! You’ve almost reached level ground,” Job shouted, giving Dinah courage to open her eyes.
Noting the lessening incline, she poked Nogahla’s side. “Look above us!” The red cliffs of Edom surrounded them, and below she could see a sandy gravel path running parallel to a wadi full of water. Warm, damp air fused the dirt and sand to their scarves. The muscles in Dinah’s stomach ached from leaning back so long, but her heart was growing lighter.
As the path leveled and widened, Dinah saw no more caves. Instead, stunning homes carved into the mountainside lined both sides. Each home boasted beautiful courtyards and gardens—yes, gardens—with leeks and garlic and figs and date palms. Amid the protection of the siq’s high walls, the wind’s fierce breath faded to a whisper. Torch flames danced gently, illuminating a lifestyle as luxurious as that of Shechem’s merchants.
“Nogahla, have you ever seen such a beautiful place? Do you see?”
“Yes, mistress. I see a miracle in the desert.” Nogahla pointed to a large fountain where the siq spilled into a long, level plain stretching north and south between two mountain ranges. Several modest tents, battered by the intensifying storm, formed a meandering village following the wadi through the plain. Small flocks and herds stirred nervously, and children ran to their mothers’ arms for shelter.
The caravan traveled southwest through the plain, wind and dust punishing Dinah’s eyes mercilessly. She’d never before wished to be a camel, but a protective second eyelid would have been helpful while she took in the sights of Uz. Farther south, clustered around private fountains and standing nobly against the storm, were exquisite house tents, made of a design she’d never seen before. Each home was constructed with red stone walls as tall as a man. A goat’s-hair weave stretched to a peak over large wooden beams was joined to the walls by large posts a cubit tall. The resulting structure appeared as a red cube with a black tent hovering on stilts above it, allowing sunlight and breezes to enter the home from every side.
Job began pointing wildly at one elegantly built house tent, its cut red stones and tall roof standing like a soldier in the storm. “Ennon! Ennon!” he shouted above the noisy wind. Dinah’s heart nearly leapt from her chest when she realized Job was pointing to her new home.
All too quickly, their guide veered south into a private canyon surrounded on three sides by majestic cliffs and rock-hewn facades. The camel drivers and servants hurried forward, and soon the animals halted.
“Mistress, the whole western cliff is a palace!” Nogahla’s neck stretched to its limit, searching the heights of Job’s impressive four-story fortress.
“Come, ladies!” Job was already off his camel and prodding Dinah’s camel to its knees. “I’ll give you the full tour tomorrow after the storm blows over.” A streak of lightning split the darkening sky. “It appears we’ve made it just in time,” he said, guiding Dinah and Nogahla toward a canopied courtyard.
An elderly Ishmaelite steward welcomed Job just outside an ornately carved wooden door. “Greetings, Master Job,” he said, “we thank Al-Uz—we’re thankful you’ve arrived safely.”
Dinah saw Job’s face cloud over like the darkened sky, and Dinah noted the Ishmaelite steward’s near mention of his god. She wondered if this was part of Job’s “history of differing opinions” with his steward.
“I see you’ve brought more servants of Yahweh to distribute goods to the poor.” The steward stared condescendingly at Dinah, and she glanced down at her dust-covered robe of Jacob’s tribe. Why would he immediately assume both she and Nogahla were servants?
But one more glimpse of Job’s stormy expression, and Dinah realized the servant’s venom had little to do with her and everything to do with her God. “No, Atif,” Job said calmly, his jaw flexing. “I’ve brought home a new wife.” He paused, engaged in a silent battle with his Ishmaelite steward.
Atif gulped and seemed to swallow his arrogance. For some reason, Job’s threat of a second wife dashed col
d water on the old steward’s fire.
“A wife for Ennon,” Job added, after reminding the steward who was master.
Dinah stifled a grin and reached for Nogahla’s hand. Though the mountains of Edom were strange and new, it seemed the tensions of a household ran deep even here. She had no idea why a servant would care that his master took a second wife. And why would Job allow such insolence from a pagan steward? She squeezed Nogahla’s hand. Thank You, El Shaddai, for my Cushite friend’s determination to stay with me.
Job took a step inside his front door, and Atif moved with him like a dance, blocking the way. Holding Atif’s gaze, Job held out his hand to Dinah and said, “Come, dear. I want you to meet my wife.” The old Ishmaelite stared daggers at Job but stepped back, allowing Dinah and Nogahla to follow into an ornately decorated hallway.
Dinah’s mouth was suddenly as dry as the desert. Job’s wife would be the first family member she would face—but not the last. Would her new mother-in-law know her by reputation? Would Job reveal her secrets?
The hallway curved, and Nogahla gasped. “Mistress, look!” Dinah remembered Ima Rachel’s long-ago warnings to remain placid in the presence of splendor. But Ima Rachel had never seen Job’s home. Bronze lamps in wall niches cast sparkling light on golden threads in the tapestries lining the way. Abba Jacob’s lamb’s-wool rugs silenced their sandaled feet, and the sandstone bench running the length of the hallway was embedded with gemstones, reflections dancing in the lamplight. This hallway was a living thing—a dreamland in which Dinah floated amid shimmering lights above and billowy softness below.
Suddenly, abruptly, the dream ended in a large square dining area. Thirty or forty starkly built tables stood empty, and two stunningly elegant people stood alone. Job staggered back as if he’d been struck in battle. When Dinah saw the regal man and woman turn in surprise, she knew the war had begun long before this night.
