by Angela Hunt
In that moment I felt the mantle of responsibility more heavily than at any time. I knew anything we brothers might do or say had the potential to influence countless others.
Never in my life have I felt so honored and so humbled. I hurried away to find Leah, certain she would understand.
A few months later, Leah and I were resting at home in Modein when a messenger brought another scroll from Antioch. Fearful that the king was about to launch another campaign against Israel, I broke the seal and recognized Philander’s scrawling script. I carefully read the letter:
My dear friend, the Hammerhead:
I bring you news from far away Persia where our king has been waging war in an effort to fill his empty treasury. The king heard that Elymais in Persia was famous for its wealth, particularly its temple, where the great Alexander reportedly left golden shields, breastplates, and weapons.
So Antiochus attempted to plunder the city, but could not, for the men of the area had been warned and successfully withstood him. So in great grief our king departed Elymais and went to Babylon. When he had made camp, a messenger reported that the king’s armies in Judea had been routed. Antiochus learned that Lysias had gone first with a strong force, but had turned and fled before the Jews, and thus the Jews had grown strong from the arms, supplies, and abundant spoils they took from the king’s army. He heard that the Jews had torn down the statue of Zeus he erected on the altar in Jerusalem and that they had rebuilt the sanctuary’s high walls, along with the city of Beth-zur. He also heard that Timotheus, one of his servants, had been killed by your army.
You have been busy, my friend, and your God has blessed you.
When our proud king heard this news, he became enraged. He commanded his chariot driver to prepare for a drive without ceasing, for Antiochus determined to go to Jerusalem and make it a burying ground for all the Jews.
But your God, Adonai Almighty, smote the king with an incurable and invisible plague. As soon as he had uttered those brash words, a pain of the bowels came upon him, and torments of the inward parts, and that most justly, for he had tortured other men’s bowels with many strange sufferings.
Yet Antiochus did not cease from bragging, but was still filled with pride, breathing out fire in his rage against the Jews, commanding his driver to make haste on the journey. But after a while he fell down from his chariot and was much pained in all his body.
And so it was that he who thought he could command the waves of the sea and weigh the high mountains in a balance was thrown to the ground and dragged in a horse litter, displaying the manifest power of a righteous God to all who looked on him.
Worms rose out of the body of this wicked man, and as he yet lived, his flesh fell away. The stench of his body was unbearable even to his generals.
So the man who thought he could reach to the stars of heaven could not be tolerated by even his servants due to his intolerable stink.
He took to his bed and became sick from grief, because things had not turned out for him as he had planned. He lay abed many days because deep grief gripped him, and he concluded he was dying. So he called all his friends and said, “Sleep departs from my eyes and I am downhearted with worry. I said to myself, ‘To what distress have I come? And into what a great flood I now am plunged! For I was kind and beloved in my power.’”
But then Antiochus remembered the evils he had done in Jerusalem—seizing all her vessels of silver and gold, and seeking to destroy the inhabitants of Judah without good reason. And he said, “I know it is because of this that these evils have come upon me; and behold, I am perishing of deep grief in a strange land.”
Finally, being plagued without remedy, he began to forget his great pride and to come to a more complete knowledge of himself. Afflicted by the scourge of God, he came to the place where he could not abide his own smell. And he said, “It is fit to be subject unto God, and a man who is mortal should not think of himself as if he were God.” He also vowed unto the Lord, begging Him to have mercy and saying that he would set Jerusalem at liberty.
And as touching the Jews, whom he had judged not worthy so much as to be buried, but to be cast out with their children to be devoured of the fowls and wild beasts, he would make them all equals to the citizens of Athens. And the holy Temple, which before he had spoiled, he would garnish with goodly gifts, and restore all the holy vessels with many more, and out of his own revenue defray the charges belonging to the sacrifices. Yes, and that he would become a Jew himself, and go through all the inhabited world and declare the power of God.
But even with all this, his pains did not cease, for the just judgment of God was upon him. Therefore, despairing of his health, he wrote to the Jews a letter, which you will find copied herein. I trust you will know how to deliver it to those who need to hear.
Then he called for Philip, one of his friends, and made him ruler over all his kingdom. He gave him the crown and his robe and the signet, that he might guide Antiochus the king’s son and bring him up to be king.
Thus the murderer and blasphemer having suffered most grievously, so died he a miserable death in a strange country in the mountains.
May your God keep and defend you, friend.
Philander
I set aside the first parchment and found another letter, penned by a different hand:
Antiochus, king and governor, to the good Jews his citizens:
For you I wish much joy, health, and prosperity:
If you and your children fare well, and if your affairs are to your contentment, I give very great thanks to God, having my hope in heaven.
As for me, I was weak or else I would have remembered kindly your honor and good will returning out of Persia, and being taken with a grievous disease I thought it necessary to care for the common safety of all:
Not distrusting mine health, but having great hope to escape this sickness. But considering that even my father, at what time he led an army into the high countries, appointed a successor to the end that, if any things fell out contrary to expectation, or if any grievous tidings were brought, they of the land, knowing to whom the state was left, might not be troubled:
Again, considering how the princes that are borderers and neighbors unto my kingdom wait for opportunities, and expect what shall be the event, I have appointed my son Antiochus king, whom I often committed and commended unto many of you when I went up into the high provinces; to whom I have written as follows:
“Therefore I pray and request you to remember the benefits that I have done unto you generally, and in special, and that every man will be still faithful to me and my son.
For I am persuaded that he, understanding my mind, will favorably and graciously yield to your desires.”
“And it is signed with the king’s name.”
I lowered the parchment and looked at Leah, who had been listening as she prepared dinner. “We should celebrate,” I said, my voice creaking in the room. “The king had a change of heart, and his plans for evil against Israel are finished.”
Leah exhaled slowly. “If his plans are finished,” she said, setting a stewpot on the table, “then why are our people still under constant attack in Jerusalem? The Gentiles in the citadel seem not to know that their king is dead. Just the other day I heard that a man and his mother were attacked as they entered the courtyard for the morning sacrifice. Others have been killed as they tried to worship. What good is the king’s death if his hatred still lives in Jerusalem?”
“Surely this will cease in—”
“Not unless you stop it, Judah. Besides,” she continued as she stirred the ladle in her pot, “the king has a son, and the son will be brought up by men who are like the king. Our troubles are not over.”
I tugged at my beard, weighing her words. My wife was certainly right about one thing—the Gentiles and renegade Jews who lived in the citadel continued to harass and harm our people, especially when they visited the Temple. We would never be free to worship until those rebels had been removed.
Well enough, then. I would remove them.
But first we would celebrate, and then I would find a way to thank Philander.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Judah
Leah and I both lost our mothers in the year after the king’s death. Rosana and Sabra died a few weeks apart, and we were able to remain at their bedsides until they peacefully breathed their last. We buried them in the family tomb and mourned them both.
Aside from those losses, the first few months after the king’s death were peaceful even though the Greek-loving Onias remained our high priest and many Hellenes in Jerusalem still insisted on thinking and dressing like Gentiles. The Prophet for whom we were waiting did not arrive, so we remained content to live under the Law of Moses.
But we were free to worship according to the Law, we could circumcise our children, observe the Sabbath, and study Torah. The refugees we had brought from Raphana and Galilee had strengthened Jerusalem and the surrounding towns, and persecution had awakened a new zeal in my people, evidenced by their newly enthusiastic worship of HaShem.
We were a free nation, yet none of the kings around us seemed to realize it.
My family rested during the time of peace, for it was a sabbatical year and we could not plant crops or plan offensive warfare. But several of Eleazar’s mares were pregnant from the Seleucid stallions. Johanan worked as a scribe for the council of Jerusalem, and Simon was often asked to counsel the priests as they resumed Temple worship. Jonathan had yet to take a wife, but because he was the youngest, we did not pressure him.
Oddly enough, of all five brothers, HaShem blessed only Simon and Morit with children. They welcomed a daughter in that sabbatical year, giving them three boys and a girl: Johanan, Judas, Mattathias, and little Rose.
Most surprising, my wife took on a new role in the family. Soon travelers stopped in Modein not to meet the Hammer of Israel, but to listen to his wife recount stories of the battles, the struggles, and the personalities involved in the war for freedom. Leah would sit on a tall stool in the village courtyard, and when the visitors had settled, she would tell the story of brave Mattathias, of Apollonius’s sword, or of Timotheus, who died in the flames at a pagan temple.
I had to admit, she had a way with a story. She never embroidered the truth, but told each tale faithfully and fairly, always giving the credit for the victory to HaShem. And when she had finished, she would look over the group of listeners and urge them to spread the word, “So all may know that Adonai lives and cares for His people.”
The first time I heard her share a story, I waited until she returned home, then drew her into my arms and kissed her soundly. “What was that for?” she asked when I let her go.
“Because good work deserves a reward,” I answered. “And you do good work. But when did you decide to become a keeper of our history?”
“I asked HaShem to show me my purpose.”
“So you are meant to be a storyteller?”
She smiled as she looked up into my eyes. “I am meant to be your wife.”
No matter what her reasons, I thanked HaShem for giving her a gift that would bless all Israel.
Because Leah looked with trepidation at the citadel whenever we went to the Temple for feasts, my brothers and I met with the Jerusalem council about how to defeat the men in the tower. The fortress held the advantage of high ground, so the occupiers could see us coming from any direction. But their proximity to the Temple made it impossible for people to worship without continually looking over their shoulders.
“We have no choice,” Simon said. “We will have to put them under a siege. No one goes in, no one goes out.”
“Why haven’t we done this before?” I asked.
A priest on the council shook his head. “We have tried, but the attempt has always been unsuccessful. People get lazy and look away, and once the invaders are on the ground, they blend in with the crowd and we lose them.”
The idea of a siege appealed to me. We would surround the fortress and prevent anyone from going in or out, ever. We would cut off their supplies, knowing that sooner or later they would have to come out for food and water. We would make certain our men were vigilant, and we would put enough men around the fortress to make sure no portion remained unguarded.
We would not win immediately, but we would win.
I summoned Simon’s men, and together we set up a siege of the citadel. I wish I could report that the venture was successful, but not even the most attentive army can guarantee a perfect watch. Sentries fall asleep and even alert guards turn their backs at inopportune moments. And though we captured many Gentiles who attempted to slip through our line, we missed others.
Unfortunately, several of those escapees traveled to Antioch and stood before eight-year-old Antiochus Eupator and Lysias, his guardian, to complain about ill treatment by the Jews.
A few weeks after the commencement of our siege, I received another letter from my old friend in the king’s court:
Greetings, my Judean Hammerhead:
My son, Eneas, sends his regards and thanks you for the fine colt. We did not know such fine horses came from Judea, but life is a learning experience, is it not? One day, Eneas tells me, he will ride down there and demonstrate how your gift has helped him become a fine rider.
I am grateful for your friendship and thought you should know what is happening in Antioch.
Some men, if one can call them that, have escaped from the citadel in Jerusalem and told scalding tales to our young king. Their subject? The state of affairs in Jerusalem. “How long will you fail to do justice and avenge our brethren?” they asked him. “We were happy to serve your father, to live by what he said, and to follow his commands in Jerusalem. For this reason the sons of our people have besieged the citadel and become hostile to us; moreover, they have put to death as many of us as they have caught, and they have seized our inheritances. And not against us alone have they stretched out their hands, but also against all the lands on their borders. And behold, they have encamped against the citadel in Jerusalem to take it; they have fortified both the sanctuary and Beth-zur. Unless you quickly prevent them, they will do still greater things, and you will not be able to stop them.”
Brazen men, they were, predicting loss for our king, but they achieved their desired effect. Young Antiochus became incensed, and Lysias undoubtedly feels he can no longer ignore Judea. Be on your guard, my friend, and keep your loved ones near. Lysias is preparing the army.
I am forever your friend,
Philander
The mention of Beth-zur jolted me, and with good reason. Resting on one of the highest sites in Judea, the fortified town overlooked the road that stretched between Beersheba and Jerusalem. Whoever held Beth-zur enjoyed a highly defensible position.
We had beaten Lysias once at Beth-zur, but we would have to use a different strategy if we met him again. Lysias would not allow himself to be tricked twice.
I had Simon read the letter to the army captains and saw several faces flush with determination. “We must take action,” Eleazar said, “because the king definitely will.”
“But he’s an inexperienced child,” Jonathan said.
“A child guided by Lysias, a general who bears a grudge,” I pointed out. “He will not care that Epiphanes had a change of heart on his deathbed. He will be out for vengeance, so he will guide the young king to act against us.”
“The army must stay ready,” Simon finished. “And we must warn the border villages.”
“And Beth-zur,” I added. “Especially Beth-zur, because we cannot afford to lose it.”
The young king and his advisor-general did not wait long to attack. After assembling a force of one hundred thousand foot soldiers and twenty thousand horsemen, they marched south along the coast, then cut through Idumea and encamped against Beth-zur. For days they maintained a siege and built engines of war, but at night the Jewish citizens of Beth-zur slipped out of the fortress and set fire to the catapults and batter
ing rams. When the Jews encountered the enemy, they fought manfully.
When a runner finally arrived in Jerusalem with the news, my men and I left a skeleton crew to maintain the citadel siege and hurried to defend our brothers. We were unable to reach Beth-zur because of the large force surrounding it, so we camped at Beth-Zacharias, opposite the enemy army. I would have liked to remain hidden, but there was no hiding our men and horses.
Our position was the best we could hope for. We held high ground from which we could turn toward the north and see Jerusalem, where Leah waited with my sisters-in-law. To the west I could see the plains of Philistia and the Rock of Etam, where Samson had hidden himself from the Philistines. To the east were cliffs and rocks, behind them the blue mountains of Moab. And to the south, the road our enemy had chosen to reach Jerusalem.
An hour or so before dawn, one of my scouts entered my tent, his eyes wide and his brow dripping with perspiration. The young man trembled as he woke us and stammered a greeting. “They—they are coming,” he said. “They have roused the beasts and are making them ready to attack.”
Simon sat up. “Beasts?”
“They sounded trumpets to signal the others,” the scout explained. “And they made a mix—of juices, maybe, and painted their faces red. And with their faces painted and looking like blood, they took javelins and stabbed the beasts’ legs.”
“What beasts?” Eleazar’s eyes were wide with what looked like delight. “Lions? Tigers?”
The boy shook his head. “Larger. If you listen closely, you can hear them roaring. The animals have been angered, probably so they will be roused to fight.”
I listened, then heard a shrill blast unlike anything I had ever heard before.
Simon frowned. “Could that be—?”
