The Refuge

Escape

Sarah stood on a high stone wall near the gates of Hebron. She loved watching dawn creep slowly across the rolling hills of Judea. A cool breeze teased the dark curls at the nape of her neck and gently tugged at her long, full skirt.
At sixteen, Sarah was dreaming of marriage, a home, and children. Who would be her husband? What would he be like? She knew the man she wanted him to resemble—her honored ancestor, Job. Not because he was the richest man in the land, but because he was strong in faith, an honest man of courage who knew and loved God. She had memorized Job’s words: “God will do for me all he has planned. He controls my destiny.”
Sitting down cross-legged on the wide wall, Sarah cupped her chin in her hands and meditated. Yes, she thought, God controls my destiny. I’m glad. He knows what is best for me.
Suddenly she was startled by a movement on the horizon. Someone was running full speed in her direction. She watched intently and saw that a man was being pursued. That meant he was in trouble! He had probably killed someone—either accidentally or on purpose—and needed to get to the safety of Hebron before his accuser could catch and wreak vengeance on him by returning “an eye for an eye.”
Sarah jumped down and hurried to the city gates. They always remained open, but where was the watchman? He should be here right now to help this newcomer who was in trouble and perhaps wounded! With her fists she pounded on the door of the elderly man’s room and shouted, “Hurry! Someone’s coming!”
To the girl’s intense relief, the stranger tumbled inside the gates, breathless and disheveled. She glimpsed the pursuer close behind; however, he could not follow into the suburbs or the city because they were a lawful place of refuge.
Instead of immediately blaming whomever caused the problem resulting in a need for escape—like some of the refugees did—this man fell to his knees, folded his hands, looked up to heaven and gasped, “Thank you, O Lord God, for delivering me from my enemy.”
Well, what a unique entrance, mused Sarah. I wonder if this man knows God like Job knew Him. Or was his prayer a spur-of-the-moment kind of gratitude? I’d like to know more about this handsome character. His clothes are dusty, but he looks tall and strong now that he’s standing up and brushing himself off.
“I’m Joel,” the newcomer introduced himself as his breathing began to return to normal. The old watchman was already moving away, so Joel turned and smiled at Sarah. She responded with a quick glance and lowered her eyes. She wanted to welcome him warmly but modesty forbade it. Her father, the priest, must do that.
“Come with me,” Sarah spoke quietly, and led Joel to a large stone house nearby. Jasmine bloomed along the walls, and date palms flourished in a spacious garden.
“Father, someone is here to meet you,” the girl called. She always let him know she was coming, even though the elderly blind man instantly knew his daughter’s step and voice.
“Joel, meet my father. He is called Nathan,” Sarah explained, and she disappeared to fetch a gourd of cool water for the newcomer.
The priest placed his hand upon the young man’s shoulder and motioned for him to sit down. “You are welcome here, my son.”
“Thank you sir,” Joel answered politely. He relaxed as he drank his fill. Refreshed, he turned to the priest, who said, “Tell us about yourself. Where is your home?”
“Bethlehem. I was born there. My father was a shepherd. He died a few years ago, and I support my mother and sister. I have come here because of an accident that I believe proved fatal to someone. A relative pursued me immediately—and legitimately—according to our laws.”
Nathan interrupted the explanation. “We can discuss that later. It‘s time for breakfast, and you must be famished. Let’s thank God for bringing you here to safety. Then we will eat.”
Sarah brought ruby-red pomegranate juice, hard-boiled eggs, olives, cheese and bread. While they ate, the priest said, “Tell me how you were supporting your family.”
“I was my father’s assistant. I learned how to care for his flocks as well as his business and household records.”
“So you were a number of things: shepherd, veterinarian, accountant, treasurer and manager.” Nathan smiled and tactfully questioned the young man in detail about his ability and experience.
“I can try to find work for you,” he offered. “This is the usual procedure, and most refugees are happy to be kept busy during their incarceration.”
Nathan knew it might be days, months, even years before Joel could ever return to his home. Meanwhile, the young man would be confined to the city and face a court case that would find him guilty or innocent of the alleged crime he had committed. Freedom depended upon the death of the priest, which automatically released refugees. And—he smiled as the thought flitted across his mind—this priest had no intention of dying in the near future!