Dinah

Chapter 13

 News of Hurriya's miraculous recovery spread quickly throughout the camp. Again curiosity seekers made excuses to pass our tent. This time Sheerah was anxious to talk to them. She told the story of her conversation with Yahweh over and over again. More than once she grabbed me and kissed me saying, "Why didn't I listen to you sooner. Knowing God makes me feel so free, so buoyant!"

During the midday rest, Sheerah and I lay on adjoining pallets. After our night's ordeal, I was overcome with fatigue, but Sheerah was restless. Kept awake by her tossing, I finally asked her if she wanted to talk. She told me she was disturbed by the absence of her kinswoman among the curious. She felt the need to go to their tents and tell them of Yahweh's love. The thought of their remaining as unbelievers haunted her. I urged her to go, but cautioned her not to expect too much, reminding her of her own disbelief when I told of my experience.

As I worked at the loom that afternoon, I watched for Sheerah's return. Hours passed before I caught sight of her slumped form walking slowly toward the tent. Standing to greet her, I welcomed her with open arms. Seeing the hurt etched in her eyes, I didn't press, but prepared her loom. I knew she would talk in time. As she worked silently, the tension seemed to ease somewhat. Finally she began to tell me her story.

When she arrived at the tents of her people, no one spoke to her. All continued to work with averted eyes. It was as though she was invisible. She approached several women who turned and walked away, Finally an outspoken woman, Pigat, the one who had accused me at the well, could stand the silence no longer. Striding up to Sheerah, she stood belligerently in front of her and spoke spitefully.

"Don't you know you are no longer welcome here. Some sympathized with you when you were forced to become maid to the dirty, conniving foreigners. I told them their sympathy was wasted, that you were a traitor willing to partake of their wealth just to regain some vestige of comfort. Now they understand you have abandoned your heritage, discarded your gods for some invisible deity. You are no longer the daughter of our King; our kinship with you is ended." Turning, she deliberately raised her foot and shook dust from her sandal before disappearing into her tent.

As Sheerah recalled Pigat's accusation, tears ran down her cheeks. Her pain was not ended; more was to follow. Sheerah had fallen to her knees in the dust outside the tent and begged the women to allow her to speak. As she knelt, several young women approached and stood before her. They were cousins with whom she had played and gossiped. They gave her an opportunity to defend herself.

Knowing the older women would be listening behind closed tent flaps, Sheerah had spoken loudly. She told of her own struggle against Yahweh. She told of Hurriya's dangerous illness and miraculous recovery. Begging them not to be close-minded, she told of her encounter with Yahweh, of her challenge and His response. Her point that Yahweh was a God of love, not of fear, was totally lost on her audience.

When she finished speaking, a young woman stepped from the back of the group. She was the daughter of the high priestess. Facing Sheerah, she spoke for the others. Drawing a medallion from under her tunic, she revealed a likeness of Anath concealed there. Indicating that they had not abandoned their gods, she made a threat. When her mother reestablished contact with the gods, a sacrifice would be made to appease them and to assure the downfall of the nomads. Hurriya had better not wander off; she would make the perfect sacrifice. The supremacy of Baal would be proven when the one spared by Yahweh appeased Baal's anger.

The Shechemite women had remained untouched by Sheerah's story. They saw her conversion as an attempt to gain favor with our family. Despondency and fear had replaced Sheerah's buoyancy of the morning. My assurance that Yahweh would not have saved Hurriya only to have her sacrificed to evil did little to cheer Sheerah. After eliciting a promise not to involve Papa, she asked me to pray that God would strengthen her faith. Her new trust was being attacked; the women had appealed to old, inbred fears. I knew her spiritual struggle would have to be fought alone. All I could do was pray for Yahweh to comfort her.