The Strength Of His Hand Part 14

you have put all my sins

behind your back.

For the grave cannot praise you,

death cannot sing your praise;

those who go down to the pit

cannot hope for your faithfulness.

The living, the living-they praise you,

as I am doing today;

fathers tell their children

about your faithfulness.

The Lord will save me,

and we will sing with stringed instruments

all the days of our lives

in the temple of the Lord.

When he finished reading, Isaiah rolled the parchment carefully and placed it in the earthenware storage jar with his other scrolls. The jar contained all the precious words Yahweh had spoken to him over the years, all the visions he had seen during the reigns of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and now King Hezekiah.

Part Two.

But Hezekiah's heart was proud and he did

not respond to the kindness shown him;

therefore the Lord's wrath was on him

and on Judah and Jerusalem.

__________.

2 CHRONICLES 3 2 : 2 5.

10.

KING MERODACH-BALADAN REACHED the top of the ziggurat first and paused in front of the Temple of Bel to gaze at the city below. Babylon's turquoise ca.n.a.ls and broad streets fanned out like a net, snaring mud-brick houses and green patches of parkland in their web. Beyond the city's broad protective walls, emerald fields and marshes stretched toward the horizon, nourished by the sluggish Euphrates River as it snaked across the plain. Everything looked remarkably clean and orderly from this height, and Merodach-Baladan loved order.

It was early in the day, and a holiday at that, so the king detected little movement in the quiet streets below. The few people he saw appeared small and vulnerable from this height, like ants he could easily crush beneath his thumb. He enjoyed the lofty view and the feeling it gave him of being above all other men, far removed and supreme.

Merodach-Baladan liked to feel supreme. He knew that his physical appearance was ordinary-his wavy black hair and cla.s.sical Babylonian features didn't stand out in a crowd unless he was clothed in the rich trappings of royalty. But he also knew that his shrewd political mind sprinted far ahead of the average man's, just as his lean, limber body had outraced his advisors to the top of the monument.

Gradually the other four members of his royal council straggled up the ziggurat's steep stairs behind him, panting and gasping from exertion. They flopped onto the stone benches that were arranged in a semicircle outside the temple. Even the king's military commander, who trained every day in order to remain fit, had difficulty recovering his breath. King Merodach-Baladan smiled to himself as he listened to them, savoring the fact that he'd reached the summit first, without becoming short-winded.

"Take a good look, gentlemen," he said, gesturing to the miniature city below. "You're gazing at the birthplace of the New Babylonian Empire. In fact, you're seated within her very womb, watching as she's being formed." He studied their sweating faces as they surveyed the view, then snapped his fingers to draw their attention back to himself.

"We're closer to that miraculous day of birth now than when we stood here last New Year's Day. And much closer than three years ago when I first conceived my New Babylonian Empire. Soon we will slay the a.s.syrian beast for good, and Babylon will rise to take her predestined place."

"May almighty Bel, king of all G.o.ds, make it so!" the secretary of state shouted, leaping to his feet. He was a handsome, ambitious man with a tongue as smooth as his clean-shaven face. Merodach-Baladan enjoyed the secretary's flattery and admired his zeal, but he kept the man close to his side, wary of what such charm might accomplish behind his back.

"And this time next year," the king continued, "when we climb once again to Bel's sanctuary to seek his blessings for a new year, we will be ready to begin the first stage of my master plan: attacking the weakened beast's flank and bringing a.s.syria to her knees at last."

"May the all-powerful Bel make it so!" the secretary declared again, and the other three men murmured in agreement.

"Civilization, gentlemen! That's what the New Babylonian Empire will offer the world. Look at the order and beauty we have already accomplished here." The king swept his hand in an arc, indicating the city below. "What nation wouldn't gladly embrace such splendor after years of a.s.syrian brutality? Marching, conquering, oppressing. That's all the a.s.syrians know. But now their empire is swiftly coming to an end, and Babylon will rise to take a.s.syria's place with the glory and splendor of Shamash, G.o.d of the sun."

The king's military advisor raised his fist and shook it defiantly.

"Death to the a.s.syrians! May they find no rest in the netherworld!"

"Hear! Hear!" the others echoed. The king gave them time to shout and cheer before continuing.

"For the next stage of my master plan, I'll need time as my ally," he said, pointing to the clock tower in the plaza at the base of the ziggurat. "The new Babylon isn't quite ready to withstand an a.s.syrian a.s.sault, but if we can keep the beast at bay for another year-better yet, two years-we can use the time to make ourselves ready.

"In the meantime, we must continue to fan the flames of rebellion throughout the a.s.syrian empire." He moved his hands back and forth as if pumping a bellows. "Our enemy has spread across too many fronts. They will never be able to quench a widespread rebellion.

Look here ..." He snapped his fingers again, and the prime minister hurried to produce a map, unrolling it awkwardly. The stiff parchment sc.r.a.ped against the stone as he struggled to spread it out on the bench and to prevent the curling ends from rolling up again.

"Here, let me help," the commander said, pinning down two corners of the map. When it finally lay flat, the king proceeded.

"Emperor Sargon's sudden death wounded a.s.syria, and she's lying low, licking her wounds as Sargon's son struggles for control. That's the time to destroy a beast, when it's injured and weak."

"True, Your Majesty," the prime minister said, "but that's also the time when a beast will fight viciously-when it's cornered and wounded."

"You're always a pessimist," the military commander said. "Why do you have to look for problems instead of solving them?"

"We shall see," Merodach-Baladan said. "We'll see how much fight Sennacherib, son of Sargon, has left in him, especially when the nations he thought were his victims turn on him and become his foes."

The king spread his broad hands over the map, slowly moving them from east to west, claiming the nations beneath them. "Elam will join with us ... Moab ... and Edom, too. The Philistines have rebelled before at Ashdod and will undoubtedly rally again. But we need Egypt on our side, and these nations in the middle. Syria. Israel. Judah. Is there a spark of nationalism left in any of them that we can fan into rebellion?"

The prime minister shook his head gloomily. "Syria and Israel are shattered. Their populations were deported and have disappeared into the empire."

"And this one?" the king asked, looking down at the map. "Judah?"

"Now there lies somewhat of a mystery, Your Majesty," the secretary of the treasury said, speaking for the first time. He was the youngest of the five men, newly appointed to office. His family controlled a vast international trading empire, and his experience and accounting skills were exceptional for a man his age.

"I enjoy solving mysteries," the king said. "Proceed."

"Well, Your Majesty, for centuries Judah has been a poor halfsister to Israel, living in her shadow. Yet within the last few years, Judah's trade has suddenly blossomed. She has become a major player in regional commerce. Her economy is thriving while many of the nations around her are suffering because of the heavy a.s.syrian tribute."

"Why is that?" the king interrupted. "Why does Judah thrive while the rest of us suffer?"

"Well, she used to be an a.s.syrian va.s.sal, too, but the current king stopped paying tribute a dozen years ago. Now she's prospering."

"How did he get away with that?" the prime minister asked.

"Why didn't Sargon flatten him as he flattened all the other nations who rebelled?"

The treasurer shrugged. "I have no idea. That's the mystery."

"Maybe it's because his capital sits protected on a steep mountain ridge," the commander said. "Jerusalem isn't as easy to conquer as Babylon." He gestured to the broad, flat plains and grimaced.

"Does Judah have any allies?" the king asked. The advisors looked at each other, but no one seemed to know. "Well, whom did they support in the Ashdod rebellion a few years back?" he asked impatiently.

The commander shook his head. "I think they stayed neutral, Your Majesty. I don't think they were involved at all."

"Why not?" The king's voice rose to a shout. "What is their king-a hermit? A coward?"

"He's much too active in international trade to be a hermit," the treasurer said.

"And he's not a coward, or he'd be paying tribute like the rest of us," the commander said.

"What's this king's name?"

There was a long pause.

"King ... Hezi ... Hezekiah!" the secretary of state said triumphantly. He looked enormously pleased with himself for being the first to recall the obscure king's name.

"King Hezekiah," Merodach-Baladan repeated. As he said the strange name aloud, he began formulating a plan that excited him. He located the tiny nation on the map and planted his index finger on it as if to hold it in place, under his control, while he mused out loud.

"Babylon is a.s.syria's number-one enemy. We always have been. But suppose we convinced a.s.syria that they had another enemy to fear. Suppose Judah became the instigator of a revolution instead of us. If we could trick King Hezekiah into stirring up trouble, he could distract a.s.syria and buy us the time we need."

"How are we going to do that?" the prime minister asked. "He didn't join the last rebellion."

"We'll appeal to his pride. He isn't joining a rebellion this time- he's leading one. Babylon will seek his friends.h.i.+p on behalf of all the weaker, tribute-paying nations. We'll send him gifts and ask how he has managed to rebel so successfully. Then we'll beg him to help his suffering neighbors do the same."

"A brilliant strategy, Your Majesty," the secretary of state said, smiling broadly. "Cunning and brilliant."

The prime minister frowned. "It won't be an easy task to flatter an unknown king."

"Then we'll have to find out more about him, won't we?" Merodach-Baladan said.

The young treasurer suddenly leaped to his feet. "Wait a minute, Your Majesty! I have the answer! My brother sends caravans along those western trade routes. He's the one who told me how prosperous Judah has become in the last few years. In fact, he traveled to Jerusalem last month and returned with an elaborate story about how Judah's king was deathly ill and nearly died-"

"King Hezekiah was ill?"

"Yes. My brother said the entire city shut down for half a day so everyone could pray to the G.o.ds to heal him. He swears that not only was this king miraculously healed, but the G.o.ds gave him a sign of their divine favor-the sun moved backward across the sky!"

"The sun? That's preposterous."

"I know, Your Majesty. But my brother was there, and he swears he saw it. He said it was late in the afternoon and the shadows were growing long-then all of a sudden it was as bright as noonday and just as hot. And yet there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The effect only lasted a few moments; then it was late afternoon again. The whole city saw it, and the people started going crazy, wondering what the omen meant. My brother wanted me to check with your astrologers and see if they had observed it."