An Instrument in His Hands

Part 2 Chapter 12

Part 2

77 - 74 BC

Chapter 12

My life was over - utterly purposeless.

In the darkness of the days that followed Andrew’s news, I wished often that I had followed Daniel out of this land. Why had I been so stupid as to wait for someone who had forgotten me? I could have been happy with Daniel! Why was I such a fool? Why had I made such devastatingly terrible choices all my life?

I wished I had done differently, and many other things too. Sometimes I wished that I was not alive. I had nothing left to live for.

Each day, I dragged my body through my lessons with the children and afterwards threw myself onto my pallet to try to sleep myself into oblivion. I did not want to feel, nor think. I neglected my service to the poor. I neglected to eat until I became thin. I neglected to read from the word of God until my faith in Christ dimmed and almost extinguished.

Then one day, there lay a flower on my desk at school. A tiny glimmer of light pierced through my darkness. The next day there were four flowers, and the day after that a pile of flowers. My students were showering me with flowers!

That night, instead of going home to bed, I stopped to visit the children of my friend whose husband had died. Her children were grown tall now. My friend reached out and enfolded me in her arms. ‘You have done so much for us all these years, Christian Lady. Now, what can we do for you?’

My heart was touched.

So I told her my story, about how as a young girl I had loved a boy that had been bad and I was afraid he would be bad again. I told her how I refused his offer of marriage and ran away to Antionum. I told her that he searched for me for a while and then went to live with the Lamanites and was now home and married to someone else. I cried, and she held me.

‘Don’t you know, Christian Lady, that you are our family? Don’t you know that every person in every house in this end of the city loves you dearly? We know who you are, that your own brother is rich and runs our city, and that you choose to serve us instead. Don’t think we have not noticed your sacrifices. Please stay with us and let us return all that kindness to you. Please.’

After our conversation, I walked about the city and looked into the humble homes and found her words to be true. The children I had fed and nurtured and taught were having their own babies now, and they proudly brought them out to show off to me as I passed. They were mine, all these children, even if I could have none of my own. And now I was teaching fifty five more of them each day. How many children I had borne!

I could stay among them and continue my work and ministrations. I could continue to show them the love of Christ through my love for them. I could demonstrate kindness and consideration. Suddenly, I felt a great warmth, as if loving arms were gathered round about me, and I knew that I was not alone. I had angels ministering with me. My work was still great. I was still needed in Antionum.

I redoubled my efforts and found great satisfaction. When the grand Synagogue was completed I was especially thankful that I chose to stay. Suddenly, there was no more work for the laborers. What were the men to do?

‘The rice god has let us down,’ they mumbled. What were they to do?

My students could not pay me money, so they brought rice, or a snared rabbit, or herbs from the meadows. I took what I needed and gave the rest away. We all had nothing.

The day came to dedicate the Synagogue and crowds gathered around it. Curious, I too attended.

Guards stood at the gate and turned people away because of the crowds. I watched for a while until I realized that the guards were selective about who they turned away. Anyone who was not dressed in fancy clothing was not fit to enter their sanctuary!

They turned me away.

‘What kind of a religion is this?’ I asked. ‘These people paid for and built this Synagogue. Aren’t they the ones who should attend its dedication?’

Nobody listened to me.

And then I heard about their form of worship. In the center of the sanctuary was a tall tower that the worshipper climbed sometime during the holy day. When alone on top of the tower the worshipper repeated a prayer that was written out for them that said God was a Spirit and always would be. Then they said that God had elected them and separated them from their brethren who believed in childish teachings about Christ. Then they thanked God that they were a chosen and a holy people.

I was astonished, though I should not have been. The Zoramites resented the Nephites and wanted to be as different from them as they could be. They wanted to be a separate people.

I went to see Andrew, who greeted me warily at his door. Lydia did not come out to greet me, dressed as I was. ‘Andrew!’ I said. ‘I’ve heard of the new worship at the Grand Synagogue. How can you stand by and allow it?’

Andrew had become a Zoramite in dress and manners and marriage. He looked the part now with a large feathered hat and strings of gold about his neck. My dress was the opposite – worn and dull. I had not had new clothes for many months.

‘It is disgraceful!’ I added,folding my arms.

Andrew laughed. ‘Really, Abigail, must you be so judgmental?’

I put my hands on my hips and chided him. ‘You know that it is disgraceful! We were not brought up to boast like that!’

‘Ah! You forget our mother. Don’t you think that she would have made a perfect Zoramite? She could exalt herself over all the people that were not of her tribe, saying they were damned whilst she was elected to glory. You know she would have loved it.’

‘That is not true! Mother devoutly believed in the Christ.’

‘She said so, but did she practice his teachings?’

I could not argue.

Andrew went on, ‘The Rameumpton is genius! Everyone has an essential need to worship and a need to be superior to somebody else. This way you meet once a week, make your public declaration, and get that need out of your system. Then you can conveniently go about your business and forget all about religion for the rest of the week.’

‘I suspect it promotes some political agenda too,’ I said sarcastically.

Andrew became excited to explain, ‘Of course it does! There is nothing like worship to unite a people, especially when it is directed against a group of Christian zealots conveniently living on the plains over the mountains.’

I gave a grunt, ‘That figures. But what of the people who are not allowed to worship?’

He huffed, ‘We have the simple rice gods placed all over the city for them to worship. That’s enough for them.’

‘But they labored and actually paid for the construction of the Synagogue!’

‘Don’t tell me that you want them to practice the Zoramite religion? What happened to all your do-good Christian worship, Abigail?’

I ignored his reference to my religion. ‘It is not fair to them!’

‘Life is not fair. Haven’t you learned that yet, Abigail?’

I left him.