Josiah, The Boy King Chapter 1, Part 2

JOSIAH, THE BOY KING 

CHAPTER 1, PART 2

As the eight horses and the man on foot came to the front of the palace they stopped.  One of the soldiers leapt off his horse, walked slowly to the old man standing in the middle of the street, took a large key from inside his tunic, unlocked the chains that bound him and let them drop with a clatter to the cobblestones.

            “By order of Esarhaddon, ruler of the universe, king of the Persians, Lord of the 120 provinces.  I hereby proclaim freedom and restoration for Manasseh, servant of King Esarhaddon, to the satrapy of the province of Judea.”

            With bowed head Manasseh acknowledged the announcement by kneeling before the soldier, then slowly rose to his feet and walked up the steps into the front gate of his own palace.  Only then did the street again echo with the shouts, “Long live King Manasseh.”

            For the rest of the day Josiah was dropped off in the royal nursery under the care of his nursemaid Zephorah, an Ethiopian slave girl.  He didn’t get a chance to ask any more questions until Zedidah came in to kiss him goodnight.  As soon as she came into the room he threw back the covers and climbed onto her lap.

            “Please, Mommy.  Why was Grandpa Manasseh in chains?”

            Jedidah smiled sadly.  “I suppose it is time I told you the whole story, even though you are so young.  Very well, let’s begin.  Your grandfather has been king of Judah for almost fifty years.  He became king upon the death of his father, Hezekiah, when he was only twelve years of age.”

            “Twelve years old, Mommy?”

            “Yes, just twelve.  That’s when his father died, and he was the oldest son, just as you are the oldest son of your father Amon.  I hope you understand and remember this Josiah.  Manasseh was so young that he had to listen to older men and have their help in running the kingdom.  There were two groups of men who wanted to help him.  One group was led by King Hezekiah’s friend the prophet Isaiah.  But Isaiah was getting old and all the men in his group were quite old as well.  Manasseh was young and didn’t want to spend all his time with a bunch of old guys.  The other group of advisors were much younger, some of them only a few years older than Manasseh himself.  Their leader was a man named Bar-Abel.  At first Manasseh would call in both Isaiah and Bar-Abel when he had to make a decision.  But pretty soon he quit listening to Isaiah and took all his advice from Bar-Abel and his friends.

            “But wasn’t he the king, Mommy?  Can’t kings do anything they want to do?”

            “Not really, son.  There is One who is greater even than a king.  That one is Jehovah, the God of Judah.  Isaiah was a prophet of God and his advice came from God Himself.  Manasseh should have listened to him and he knows that now.”

            “He does?”

            Jedidah pulled him closer and rocked gently.  “Yes, he knows.  But he was king for a long time before he learned that lesson.  I want you to know about God when you are very young, my son.  It will be much better than way.”

            “What did Bar-Abel tell grandpa to do, Mommy?”

            Jedidah hugged him tight and a tear fell from her eye.  “Your father Amon had an older brother,” she said.

            “But I thought father was the oldest.  I thought he was going to be the next king.”

            “He is, now.  But he had a brother whose name was Azariah.  He was named after another one of your great ancestors.  When Azariah was a very small boy, smaller than you…” Jedidah stopped again as the tears flowed faster and she had to tell the story while wiping them from her face. 

“Bar-Abel came to your grandfather.”

            “King Manasseh, the god Baal is upset with us.”

            “But Bar-Abel.  We worship Jehovah, the God of Judah.”

            “Your father Hezekiah did, you mean.  But not his father, Ahaz.  And there are many of us who have long ago given up the old ways.  This is a new age, Manasseh.  The worship of Jehovah was good enough for Moses and Abraham and David, but they’ve been dead for years.  We need a new god for today.”

            “But how do you know Baal is angry?”

            “He came to me in a vision.”

            “A vision?  You have really seen a god in a vision?”

            “Oh, it was a wonderful sight.  I had just eaten my fill of roast pig…”

            “Roast pig?  But we aren’t allowed to eat roast pig.  Jehovah forbad it in the law of Moses.”

            “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.  I’ve eaten roast pig for years and it never hurt me.  In fact, it’s much tastier than beef or lamb.  I think Moses was an old stick-in-the-mud who just didn’t want us to enjoy all the good things of life.  He probably just wanted to keep all the pork for himself.”

            When Manasseh heard that he threw his hands up over his head and fell to the ground.  “Don’t talk like that.  God will send down fire and brimstone like He did on Sodom and Gomorrah.”

            “I don’t believe that story either.  I think it’s time you got your eyes opened Manasseh.  Baal is a lot greater than your father’s God Jehovah.”      

            Again Manasseh covered his head with his hands, but when nothing happened, he began to calm down.

            “Tell me about your vision.”

            “Well, I had just settled down on my couch for an afternoon nap, after my meal of roast pig.”

            Again, Manasseh’s hands started up, and then dropped back to his side.

            “I was just about asleep when a strange light began to fill the room.  It was bright and smoky like sunlight burning through a fog.  In my dream I sat straight up in bed, but when I looked down I was sitting instead on a throne, with winged camels for arms and gold covered foxes for legs.  The room around me had no windows and yet this brilliant light came from everywhere.  Below me the smoke covered the floor.  I couldn’t tell if the throne was actually sitting on anything or if it was high and lifted up in mid-air.”

            “Awesome,” Manasseh muttered.

            “Then the mist began moving, and swirling and gathering into a twisting wind in the middle of the room.  As it swirled I grew dizzy and would have fallen off my throne, but what felt like a great hand grabbed me by my hair and held me up.  Then I saw faces swirling around in the twisting mist.  Faces without bodies, eyes without faces and mouths without eyes.”

            “Weren’t you afraid?”

            “The hand that held me up by my hair seemed to fill me with peace. I had no fear.  Instead I felt like I was almost a god myself.  I felt such freedom, such power.  Soon the mouths and eyes came together in one large face which continued to turn with the whirlwind.  And then the lips began to move and words came from below and high above, from right there in the room and from somewhere far, far away.”

            “All at the same time?”

            “All at the same time.  The voice said—

                        Bar-Abel—whom shall I send to Manasseh—who will go for me to the new king?

            And then I felt the hand on my hair reach right through my head and move my lips.  Without even trying I was giving an answer to the voice.  “I will go, oh whirlwind.  I will carry your message to King Manasseh.”

            “A message for me from the gods?  They chose you to give a message to me?  Isaiah never comes with any message just for me.  He talks to the people instead, and just treats me like one of them.  Quickly, what did the whirlwind say?  Tell me quickly.  I must know.”

            Bar-abel didn’t even seem to hear him, but instead assumed a trance-like state.  To Manasseh, who couldn’t see his lips move at all, it was as if the voice from somewhere else had taken over and was simply using Bar-abel as a way to speak directly to the king.

            --Manasseh.  See with your heart and hear with your ears.  Open your eyes and understand with your liver.  There is no god but Baal and Bar-abel is his prophet.  He is my son, my beloved.  Hear him and obey—

            Suddenly Bar-abel snapped back out of his trance and looked around the room as if he had just arrived.

            “What happened?” he said.

            “The king bowed low in front of his friend.  He was ready to do anything Bar-abel told him to do.  And that’s when the most terrible thing of all took place.”

            Once again Jedidah broke into tears.  Josiah didn’t understand why, he could never remember his mother crying like that before.  She had always been so happy.  Finally she was able to continue the story.

            “One day Bar-abel came into the palace where Manasseh was playing with his little boy Azariah.  Bar-abel didn’t like Azariah because he knew that Azariah was being taught to love Jehovah by the priests from the temple.  He didn’t want him to be the next king after Manasseh.   So he told the king he had received another vision from Baal.  Baal was angry and the only way to appease him was the take little Azariah to the valley of Molech and sacrifice him to Baal.  Manasseh was very sad, but the voice had told him to obey everything Bar-abel told him to do.  The next day he took Azariah out to the valley where the big statue of Molech stands.  Bar-abel built a huge fire in the belly of the statue so that the entire idol, including its hands, became red-hot.  And then your grandfather placed Azariah on those red-hot hands, offering his life to the god Baal.”

            Josiah was crying now and clinging to his mother’s neck as tightly as he could possibly cling.

            “Mommy, is that why you are so sad?  Is that what’s going to happen to me?  I’m the first born son.  Now that Grandpa Manasseh has returned, are they going to burn me alive in the valley of Molech?”