Naomi asked Alian to help us locate a suitable property for our project. He was appalled at the suggestion and tried to talk us out of our plans. Naomi told him that she had a word from God in the form of a dream. She told him of her dream, but did not mention that I too had experienced a similar vision. To my surprise, the dream convinced Alian that he was wrong to oppose our plans. Instead he told Naomi that he planned to join us.

“I am not going to let two women welcome into their home strangers who are wanted for a crime, without providing masculine protection. No matter how wealthy you are, Salome, your funds will run out quickly if you hire a bodyguard. Since Naomi raised me after my parents died and is like a mother to me, it would only be natural that I act as protector,” he told us.

“I cannot ask you to do that,” I protested. “You have a life of your own. You travel often with your merchant friend. You will one day take a bride and no newly married woman in her right mind would consent to live under a roof with a bunch of men who fled for their lives.”

At that, Alian burst out laughing.

“Although you and Naomi are not newly married, you are women. Does this mean that the two of you are not in your right minds?”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it,” I replied. “Who would consent to be your bride knowing she would be entering such a household?”

“I am not worried,” Alian responded, a smile still lurking in his eyes and around his lips. “If I am to wed, Yahweh will bring me a bride with a heart for outcasts.”

“Perhaps he already has,” Naomi said under her breath as she watched our interchange.

Realizing her meaning and recognizing that she did not intend for either of us to hear, I pretended not to comprehend, but rather said caustically to Alian, “Yahweh will have a hard time finding a woman who is willing to put up with a man who has the apparent strength of a lion but the heart of a mewling kitten that cannot stand on its own but has to be carried by its mother wherever it ventures.”

Turning on my heel, I left the two standing in mute confusion at my sudden outburst.

As the plan progressed, I became increasingly difficult. I was forced to accept Alian’s help in locating property but was determined to alienate him so that he would repent of his decision to live with us. The surlier I became, though, the harder he seemed to try to please me. At times I caught him watching me with a speculative look.

Finally the property was purchased. It was a large structure near the western gate. The walls facing the city were tall, as though the builder sought to shelter the inhabitants from prying eyes. Inside the front gate was a spacious courtyard surrounded in a semicircle by rooms. In the very center of the rooms was a passageway that led into a back courtyard, which was also encircled by rooms. The courtyard in the back acted as a kitchen. Stables for animals were built along the back of this courtyard, and its back wall was actually part of the wall surrounding Hebron. Stairs led from the passageway to the roof. Small windows were cut in the front and back walls, allowing anyone on the roof to look out into the city on one side and into the surrounding countryside on the other. I learned that the structure had once served as a barracks for soldiers. When the Israelites took control of Hebron, the soldiers had been slaughtered in their sleep. No one wanted to inhabit a structure with such a grizzly history, and so it had stood empty for years. Numerous repairs were needed to make it inhabitable, but the price was low enough that plenty of money was left over for renovations.

The structure was perfect for our purposes. It had ample room to house as many of the disenfranchised as the gods sent our way. Normal travelers would not seek a room there because of the history of the building. Only those seeking asylum would be desperate enough to ask for lodging. In this way, perhaps we would not have to advertise that we considered ourselves a home for outcasts and thus alienate our neighbors. Instead, outcasts would come to us while those with a reputation to protect would stay away.

As we began to clean and renovate, rumors began to spread throughout Hebron. The curious came by to gawk and gossip. Naomi told me it would be best to be gracious and to introduce me, since I would become a permanent part of the community. It was apparent from those who talked with Naomi that she was treated with respect, but with the smiling tolerance reserved for those who have become a bit outlandish as they age.

The veiled disapproval did not phase her, nor did it seem to bother Alian. I could not believe that I could have been delivered into the hands of two such tolerant people. As gratitude began to overtake me, I listened more closely to Naomi’s stories of Yahweh. Perhaps such people were truly a product of walking closely with a loving god. But each time I examined the possibility, I rejected it because those who came to gawk also claimed allegiance to Yahweh, and their lives reflected nothing of the love and mercy demonstrated by Naomi and her nephew.

Finally one evening, the paradox caused me to abandon my silence. “How can followers of a god who is supposed to be loving and forgiving be as callused as the citizens who come by to mock, while pretending to be your friends?” I asked.

To my surprise it was Alian who answered. Since we had been working on the house, he had stayed with us instead of returning to his home in the evenings. He lived some distance from the gates of Hebron, and it would have been tedious to return home each night. He also said his hired hands needed to be tested to make sure they would run his farm properly without him present. I suspected this was a ruse since he often left them to run the farm when he made trips, but I could not fathom why he would need an excuse to stay, other than nightly exhaustion. I surmised that perhaps he considered that excuse unmanly and so sought another reason.

Usually he contributed little to our evening discussions, only occasionally making a comment when he felt Naomi’s explanations were not broad enough, or she left out a detail that he considered important to a story. When I realized the direction his narration was going, I was glad for the cover of darkness.

“I know that Naomi told you the story of Adam and Eve and how they were cast out of the garden because they disobeyed God,” he said. “Ever since Adam and Eve ate the fruit of the forbidden tree, man has lived in rebellion against Yahweh. Sometimes a man exhibits some of the characteristics of Yahweh, but never all, continuing to be rebellious in one area and obedient in another. Abraham was a man of great faith, but he took matters into his own hands when God seemed to be taking too long. He had a son by his wife’s maid, not believing God would give him a son by his wife Sarah. Lot moved into a wicked city, but when the city was destroyed, he was spared because he was righteous enough to stand up against the townsmen in order to save the lives of God’s messengers. Noah withstood ridicule and built an ark, but after God delivered him, he was unfaithful to Yahweh’s commands. He got drunk and lay naked before his household. Moses dared to debate God concerning his fitness as a leader, but Yahweh still used him to deliver his people. When 12 spies came to check out this land, only two believed Yahweh would deliver the land into our hands. Joshua led us in that conquest, but only after all of the other adults who rejected God’s plan died in the wilderness. The most recent example of imperfect believers was our strongman Samson. He was given great strength so he could begin our deliverance from the Philistines. He loved Yahweh and was His champion. Yet, he betrayed Yahweh’s love for the love of a pagan woman. These human heroes of our faith all had flaws. None of us succeed in attempting to emulate Yahweh. Yahweh gave us laws to help us become righteous as He is righteous. They sound simple, deceptively so. No man or woman that I know of has been able to obey them all. Each of us has our own weakness; for some it is envy, for another lust, some struggle with pride; the possibilities are myriad. The only way we can obey these commands and grow to be like Yahweh is to follow the Shema. It says we are to love God with all our heart, soul, and strength. God’s love in our lives allows us to grow in His likeness. Unfortunately, we are all human while God is divine. Unlike your gods who are as fickle and capricious as man, we know that our God is perfect. Many of Yahweh’s followers despair of ever becoming like Yahweh and so they compromise Yahweh’s standards because it is easier. If you look to Yahweh’s followers for an example to imitate, you make a grave mistake. Only Yahweh is righteous. Only by keeping your eyes and heart focused on Him do you have any chance of becoming like Him.”

“But you and Naomi are loving and kind,” I said.

“That has not always been the case,” Alian said. “Naomi told me she has shared her story with you, just as she shared it with me in my time of need. As far as I know we are the only two who know her intimate past, other than Yahweh, of course. I think perhaps it is time that you heard my story.” 

Without thinking, I cried out, “No! No, Alian. I do not want to hear any more stories of grief and pain and heartache.”

“What about stories of love and redemption?” he asked.

“Even stories of love and redemption involve pain and heartache, do they not?” I challenged.

“You are right,” Alian conceded. “Redemption is usually preceded by pain and heartache, but such stories are not about heartache. They are about hope.”

“Hope,” I replied my voice heavy with despair. “Hope is the poor man’s folly, the blind man’s antidote to darkness, the crippled man’s chicanery. Hope is like trying to harness the wind; in the end you are left bereft, holding nothing.”

“You accused me of being loving and kind,” Alian responded. “That was not always so. If I can change, then someone can harness the wind.”
I laughed harshly. “Who?” I asked. “This Yahweh Naomi prates about.”

“Yes,” Alian responded, the smile evident in his voice. “This Yahweh can harness the wind, for you see, He made the wind. It knows His voice and obeys it.”

“How can two people who seem so sane believe such nonsense?” I countered.

“Just hear me out,” Alian replied.

“I was the child of my parents’ old age. They had waited so long for a child; they could not believe their good fortune. They gave me everything my heart desired. No wish was left ungranted. Only my Aunt Naomi tried to bring some balance and discipline to my life, and I hated her for it. Whenever I was in her charge, I was rude. I said nasty things about her to my parents and friends. Once I even spit in her face. She would chastise me for my actions; but after I paid the consequence, she would hug me and tell me that she loved me and forgave me. I considered her a stupid woman. Surely she did not think I would believe her words about love when she made certain I received discipline for my actions. Her talk of forgiveness was foolishness to me. I harbored bitterness towards her, believing I had done nothing that required forgiveness. She had seen that I was punished, so I had paid the price and forgiveness was unneeded. I believed that she should be begging me for my forgiveness, which I, of course, would refuse to grant. For years I manipulated my parents. I became haughty, obnoxious and overbearing. Less than a year after my bar mitzvah, I went to my father, who was ill and confined to bed. I told him I wanted my inheritance so I could travel and learn the ways of the world. He told me that I was still young and that he was dying, and if I would be patient a little longer, everything would be mine. I laughed in his face. I knew where he kept his valuables and so I took them and left. I went to the city. I was large for my age and those I encountered either thought I was older than my 13 years or indulged me because I was lavish with my money. It did not take me long to discover that almost anyone could be bought if the price was right. I rented luxurious quarters. I began to gamble, to drink and to purchase the favors of loose women. Within three years, at the age of 16, I was broke. I could not pay my rent. The friends who drank and gambled with me moved on. Ruthless men came to collect my gambling debts and when they found no money, they exacted revenge on my body. They left me to die. One of the women, whose body I had used, found me and took pity on me. She paid a merchant traveling to Hebron to put my broken body in the back of his wagon. He asked me where I lived. I was ashamed to appear at my parents’ farm in rags, smelling of death. I knew Aunt Naomi was a healer and so I directed the driver to her door.”

As Alian said these words, his voice broke. He was silent for a moment. Then he continued.

“Aunt Naomi took me in, bathed my broken body and began the process of healing the breaks and bruises. She asked no questions. She did not chastise me about abandoning my parents. She nursed me and sang to me. Her song, a song of our God, tore at my soul. I am sure you have heard it too, Salome.”

“She sang, ‘He found him in a desert land and in the wasteland, a howling wilderness; He encircled him. He instructed him. He kept him as the apple of His eye. As an eagle stirs up its nest, hovers over its young, spreading out its wings, taking them up, carrying them on its wings, so the Lord alone led him.’”

“That song was a song about Yahweh keeping his nation Israel alive and leading them in the wilderness, even though they were unfaithful and disobedient. I recognized myself as the disobedient prodigal who was still loved by a faithful God. I cried. I asked Aunt Naomi if she thought my parents would be as forgiving as her God. It was then that she told me that my parents had died, both in the same week. On his deathbed, my father told Aunt Naomi, ‘When he comes home, tell him I love him. Tell him I am sorry that I did not teach him the right way. Ask him to forgive me.’”

Alian paused in his story, staring out into the night as though looking for something. My eyes had adjusted to the dark  and I could see the pain clearly etched on his face.

“My father blamed himself for my rebellion,” Alian finally choked out. “I could have accepted that version of my life and if I had, I would still be the same selfish person I was when I took everything and left. But as I lay on my bed pondering her words, Naomi made certain I would not remain the selfish young man I had once been. She told me the story of her past. Then she said to me, ‘Yahweh sent you to me in my old age as the son I could not have. He wants me to teach you His ways, Alian. You have inherited your parents’ farm. You can move out there and take up life anew and blame your parents for your broken character, or you can accept the responsibility for your own actions and allow Yahweh to change you into the man He wanted you to be. The choice is yours, Alian.”

“That night my redemption began. I learned the truths from Naomi that I refused to hear as a child. She became a parent to me, and I became her son. The Aunt I despised as a child offered me the forgiveness and love I needed at that point in my life. After several years under her tutelage, I moved out to the farm as an independent man. I come into town often to visit and make certain she wants for nothing; but mostly I come to drink of her well of knowledge. I do not know how one woman can have such an intimate knowledge of Yahweh, but I recognize Him in her eyes, in her compassion, in her mercy. You may think hope is foolishness, Salome, but I do not know how you can continue to believe that if you live with Naomi. Her name means joy, and that joy comes from her God. That joy is a wellspring of hope for those of us who need forgiveness . . . and hope.”

“Here in the darkness with only you two, I can almost believe,” I said softly. “But hope fades under the harsh rays of a relentless desert sun.”