Nehemiah: God's Broker Part 7

The announcer pulls a white handkerchief from his back pocket and gives a courtesy swipe at his forehead. The partnership of tension and a packed house have put a strain on the ventilation system which will be playing catch-up for the rest of the night. He grabs the offered microphone from his assistant and heads towards the center of the ring. Though he knows the facts by memory, he carries the traditional note cards anyway.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” his voice echoes back at him from around the huge auditorium, “welcome to the eternal-weight championship contest. The contender this evening from Shushan, dressed in humility, with no apparent record or experience……Nehemiah.”

The announcer himself seems a tad unclear about this challenger. The din of impatience and anticipation is peppered with a few scattered handclaps, probably from those who reacted out of habit, certainly not from recognition.

Again the herald of conflict takes up his task: “And in this corner, the undefeated champion……”

Who is this formidable figure with whom Nehemiah must do battle? What challenge lay in wait for this first time, no experience, never been there and never done that, pop-up deliverer? Well here is the mission if you should decide to accept it:

Perhaps we could position a few props on stage by taking a quick peek at a few chapters in the history of Israel prior to the arrival of baby Nehemiah. God told Israel to do this and not to do that. Israel didn't do this and did do that. Got it? No? Doesn't matter, just understand that disobedience finally had to be answered. So, God sent his people to the woodshed for seventy years. The address of this woodshed was Babylon.

Here the Lord sent MOST of His people. Some were left in the promised land. But, the king of Babylon was sure to skim la crème and only leave that bluish 1% behind. No leaders, no inspired, no visionary, no, no, no. Maybe comparable to a blinded, confused, corporate Samson going in circles at the helm of a Philistine millstone. In place of the displaced, Babylon folded in a variety of ingredients into this cultural stew. This was a resolute course to assassinate and bury a national identity.

In accordance with that objective Jerusalem was destroyed; walls and temple turned to chaotic unrelated rubble. Where once and Israelite could walk the streets and courtyards of magnificence, those same steps would be impossible to traverse for the mountains of debris that now commanded the panorama. Where once the horses of Solomon pranced, decked in enough wealth for a good retirement, now no animals except for dogs and rats could travel.

The real question was whether the inhabitants reflected their environment or vice-versa. Living in the wreck of Jerusalem or the countryside round about, they were in the basement of the food chain. The governing powers had redefined manipulation of the poor and were mercilessly resting the weight of their greedy life style upon a bruised reed. The lever was always the same: taxes. All the subjects of the Empire were under the obligation to pay a head tax. The larger the family, the more the tax. Then as now, large families and poverty often drew together under the same leaky roof. When the tax could not be met, loans were made at rates that would bring a smile to the lips of the most jaded shark.

When the impossible cycle had gone around a couple of times, spinning the indebted in the carefully plotted agony of slow motion plunder, the animals and land were always next. These were merely steps of postponement. For next came the ‘loaning out' of the oldest child to help pay the unpayable. Soon, his little brother would be with him working the fields of the ‘benefactor'. Slavery via the back door. And just who would be the insensitive perps of this bloodless assassination? Why fellow branches from the same Jewish tree, of course. With friends like these, who needs enemas?

Did I mention the drought? Oh, yes, like three years straight! That does wonders for the wallet. Lets mix in a little racial tension. The ‘king' of the region, an ego maniac named Sanballat, was from Moab and enjoying every inch of oppression he could exert on the down-and-out Jews.

Some weights too heavy to be borne: a disgraced (hmm…interesting word ) people; deprived of their producing capacity (land, animals, sons), no shepherd, no hope.

A blade slowly being buried under the fifth rib, held in the hand of the kinsman, with help at the elbow from old enemies.

And you think your group presents pastoral challenges?