CHAPTER 6

Blazing Parchment

"Baruch! Wait!"

The scribe spun on his heels to see who had called his name. In the dimness of the predawn hour, he saw the form of Jeremiah hobbling up the street toward him.

"You were unconscious!" Baruch protested. "And how did you get out of prison?" He had so dreaded reading Jeremiah's scroll in the temple that the prophet's unannounced release unnerved him.

"I had a vision, Baruch." Jeremiah put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Yahweh asked me to delay reading the scroll until a national feast, and when I awoke the jailer released me." Jeremiah leaned against his friend, and felt the tension leave Baruch's body as the scribe realized he wouldn't have to read the scroll that morning.

"Where are you staying, Baruch?"

"In jail. I mean, that's where I stayed last night."

Jeremiah laughed. "You're tired, aren't you? Why not stay with me."

"I'd love to."

The prophet squeezed his companion's arm as the two strolled off toward Jeremiah's flat. "It's good to have one true friend in all this wicked city."

Several months passed and royal messengers announced that the Babylonian army had laid siege to Ashkelon, 50 miles to the west, on the coast of the Mediterranean sea. No one doubted that Jerusalem would be next.

King Jehoiakim knew that Jerusalem could never survive a full-scale siege, and so he had not prepared for one. The food warehouses stood empty; Hezekiah's tunnel water system needed cleaning and repair; the weapons arsenals bulged with antique weapons that could never withstand a major battle; and the troops were ill-trained and demoralized.

The king had spent the past three years building a new red cedar palace, patterned after the great houses of Egypt. This act told the world that his ties lay with the Pharaoh.

How the Jews hated that palace! Jehoiakim had hired Jewish craftsmen, magnanimously supplied their food and lodging while they worked, but then refused to pay their wages when they finished their assignments. Other workmen, who had not yet finished their tasks, discovered his scheme, and laid down their tools. So Jehoiakim enslaved them all, forcing them to finish the project without even the promise of pay. This brazen act enraged the entire country.

But now Nebuchadnezzar approached, and Jehoiakim panicked. He knew that he must regain the support of his alienated people in order to save his throne, and he cast about for some workable plan.

"Perhaps you could win their allegiance by appointing a day of fasting and prayer," suggested one of his counselors.

"Sure, why not?" The king accepted the idea, though he disliked the concept. "The Jews will pray to Yahweh, and Yahweh will save them." He smiled at the thought of ignorant people meekly following his suggestions, regardless of how stupid they seemed to him. "That ought to get their minds off my palace."

At the time for the morning sacrifice on Jehoiakim's "National Day of Fasting and Prayer," Baruch strolled into the temple with Jeremiah's scroll tucked under his arm. No one paid him any attention when he stepped up onto the stone bench between the courts and turned toward the people, but every eye darted his way when he unrolled a portion of the scroll. No one recognized him, or knew what he would say, but the opening sentence announced that the contents came from Jeremiah.

Baruch read in the monotone style he had learned in scribal school, but everyone in the two courts heard the message. Some hearts softened, others hardened, and still others seethed with anger. But no one blamed Baruch. They merely hated Jeremiah all the more for hiring a scribe to do his "dirty work."

When Baruch finished reading he re-rolled the scroll and elbowed his way through the crowd, while the people turned their attentions back to the temple service. He puzzled over their indifference. He'd expected them to throw him out, or even to stone him. But he never dreamed they would ignore him!

Baruch had almost cleared the southeast temple gate when a strong hand gripped his shoulder sending a thrill of fear through his body. This is it! he thought. I will pay for my act—perhaps with my life! But when he turned around he gazed into the eyes of a smiling man who wore a red cloth belt.

"You have great courage to read that scroll here," said the royal stranger.

"I've only done my duty," answered Baruch.

"You have done it well," commented the prince. "But the man who should have heard it was not here today."

"The king?"

"Yes, and the other princes as well." The handsome man placed both thumbs into his red sash. "I'm the only member of the royal family who attended the service this morning. Surprising too, since the fast was ordained by my father."

"That does seem strange," Baruch agreed.

"But if Jeremiah is right, he won't get away with it." The prince frowned as he gazed back toward the worshiping people. He stood silent for a moment, smiled, and then spoke again. "Baruch, if I can arrange it, would you read this scroll to the other princes?"

"Of course." Baruch's desire to serve in the palace returned, causing him excitement and fear all at once.

"Good," said the prince as he stroked his beard. "I'll meet you here after the evening sacrifice. Bring the scroll with you."

"Very well," said Baruch, and hurried home.

"I'm so glad you're safe." Jeremiah's voice revealed his concern.

"So am I," admitted the scribe, "but there was no need to worry. The people ignored me. When I finished reading, they turned back to their service as though nothing had happened."

"That was good for you, Baruch, but it's bad for them." Jeremiah sat down on a stool and put his face in his hands. "Those people have become so calloused that they no longer hear the voice of Yahweh."

"One person heard," interrupted Baruch.

"Oh?" The prophet looked up, surprised. "Who?"

Baruch related his encounter with the prince. "I don't know his name, but I plan to see him this evening."

"Sounds like Michaiah to me," said Jeremiah. "He's a good man. If he wants the king to hear this message, it's worth our time to do it. He won't lead us into a trap."

After the evening service, Baruch stood beside the gate, anxious to discover what the prince had arranged. When Michaiah arrived, the scribe prodded him: "Did you have any success?"

"Yes," answered Michaiah. "The princes have agreed to listen to the scroll, but they warned me that you and Jeremiah will be in danger when the king hears it."

"Thanks for your concern," returned Baruch, "but that's our problem."

"We'll help you," assured Michaiah. "Come with me."

The two walked out of the southeastern temple gate and turned west toward the palace. But instead of entering the royal mansion, they opened a door that led into a chamber within the temple wall. Baruch's eyes strained as he peered into the dim enclosure, lighted only by olive-oil lamps set into small niches in the walls. Soft, rusty shadows fell upon the red-sashed men who sat on the long benches that were placed around the perimeter of the room, and Baruch didn't recognize any of them.

Michaiah barred the door and turned to the princes. "Brethren, this is Baruch, and he will read the scroll of the prophet Jeremiah."

The men shifted restlessly in their seats as Baruch unrolled a portion of the scroll and held it near one of the lamps. He read in his monotone voice, glancing up from time to time, to see how the message affected his listeners. Some faces scowled with hostility, some radiated humility and kindness.

When he had finished reading, the scribe re-rolled the scroll, as Michaiah stood to speak. "Brethren, should the king hear this message?"

"Yes," grunted several princes in unison.

"By all means," said one man as he stood and crossed his arms, "but it will make him angry. He will kill Jeremiah and Baruch." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Remember the prophet Urijah?" A chorus of groans filled the room, and the man sitting next to the speaker buried his face in his hands. The one who spoke, gently patted the shoulder of the grieving man as he continued. "The king had Elnathan, here, chase Urijah all the way to Egypt and bring him back. Then his highness killed the prophet with his royal sword. We must take care, Brethren, for I believe Jeremiah and this scribe could meet the same fate if we read that scroll to the king."

"You're right," agreed Michaiah, "so we must hide Jeremiah and Baruch BEFORE Jehoiakim hears the scroll."

"Well spoken," said Gemariah, who owned the chamber. "Hide them first. The king acts quickly when he's angry."

Jeremiah and Baruch moved into the home of a casual friend after dark that evening and trusted Yahweh to protect them from the wrath of the king.

The princes entered the palace together, taking with them the palace scribe Jehudi, who carried the scroll.

"Well, well," called Jehoiakim from his padded chair as the men entered his chamber. "What brings you all out this evening." He paused to examine their faces. "My, my, boys. You look like you've been to a funeral." He laughed at their long faces, and rose to warm himself before a small brazier.

"We may soon attend our own," said Delaiah, "unless we follow the instructions of Yahweh."

"What makes you think we haven't?" sneered the king.

"Because Yahweh Himself has said so, in this book, Sir." He pointed to the scroll.

"What scroll is that? Who wrote it?" the king bristled.

"The prophet Jeremiah wrote it," said Gemariah, "and Baruch, the scribe, read it during the service this morning. We thought you should hear it too."

"All right," the king sighed as he sank back onto his plush chair, "let's get it over with."

Jehudi unrolled the scroll and began to read. A visible change passed rapidly over Jehoiakim's face―perplexity evolved into shock and fear, quickly exploding into anger. After a few moments he lunged toward Jehudi, grabbed the scroll, and rushed back to the brazier.

Gemariah, Delaiah, and Elnathan surged forward together, attempting to stop the king from destroying the scroll, but they were already too late. The king slashed the scroll with a pen knife, and tossed the pieces into the fire. Black smoke filled the room as the leather burned.

"Your majesty!" cried Gemariah. "You shouldn't have done that!"

"Why not?" shouted Jehoiakim. "I am king, am I not! And I'll do the same to the men who wrote it. Guard!" he roared. "Fetch me Jeremiah and Baruch . . . quickly! I'm going to kill them both!"

CHAPTER 7