The sounds of a large crowd grew louder, and soon they were surrounded by nearly the entire village. Kaella took Shelah and joined the women who were preparing the food while Er and Onan ran off to join the young children. Judah joined Hirah and Shua’s sons and sons-in-law.
“This is going to be a good day,” Hirah said, patting Judah on the back. “Once the food is almost ready, we will offer the sacrifice to Molech and then feast the night away.” He laughed, and the other men joined in.
Judah smiled, but laughter would not come. Molech. Why had he expected it to be any other god?
“One day you must join us in offering to Molech, my friend,” Hirah said, placing an arm about Judah’s shoulders. “Usually we give the firstborn, but perhaps your next child.”
Judah shrugged away from Hirah’s touch and stared at his friend. “You know that I worship the God of Israel. I will not offer one of my sons on Molech’s altar.”
Hirah took a step back, assessing Judah. “Is it your father’s god you worship, or has Kaella convinced you she would not abide losing a child as she lost her brother?”
Judah flinched.
Hirah smiled. “She has not told you then. It is why we never married, my friend. I believe in the sacrifices and she does not. She was close to her brother as a child and was inconsolable, even though her father implored her to understand. I’m surprised after all these years that you did not know.” He slapped Judah on the shoulder. “Never mind. Come and enjoy our festivities anyway. Perhaps you will change your thinking.”
Hirah moved away, and Judah stared at his retreating back, dumbstruck. Shua had sacrificed Kaella’s brother to Molech, one of the most prominent and ruthless gods of the Canaanites? How could she even want to come to these celebrations then? Why had she never told him?
Judah looked about at the faces of the men all standing in groups, talking and laughing as if nothing momentous was about to happen. Which one of these men would be giving up a child to the bronze arms of the god? Did they not care to lose a child?
A feeling of revulsion swept through him, and he slipped away from his friend and brothers-in-law and moved through the group, listening. He searched faces but could not find even one man among them who seemed distressed with the upcoming offering. Why had he ever thought a foreign god could help him? Must he sacrifice his firstborn for the sake of his sin? How would killing Er bring Joseph back?
His father’s God had never commanded child sacrifice. Even the test Abraham had undergone when asked to offer Isaac upon God’s altar had been abruptly ended with the shout of God. Their God, Jacob had said, would never abide a people or nation who killed another person and called it a gift to Him. And God detested the offerings of these people.
A drum began to beat, startling Judah, and the men gathered in the central courtyard. The women came from the house and remained on the outskirts of the circle. Children ran to stand behind their mothers. A solemn stillness fell over the group, as if they had done this all before and knew exactly what to expect. Judah, in all of the years he had been in Canaan, had avoided such gatherings while the children were small. But now that Shelah was old enough to come, he could no longer stay away and still remain in Hirah’s good graces.
He glanced across the courtyard, spotting Kaella still holding Shelah’s hand. Er and Onan stood behind her as if they were trying to hide behind her skirts.
“We have the great honor today,” Hirah said, drawing Judah’s attention, “of giving a great sacrifice to our god Molech. Nadeem, come forward, please.”
Nadeem stepped into the center of the courtyard, carrying a newborn babe in his arms. A sob came from the women, and Judah looked in their direction. A woman about Kaella’s age stood with three girls clinging to her, while she held a hand over her mouth. One of her daughters looked about Er’s age, and her wide dark eyes were filled with horror. But not one of them moved to join Nadeem or try to dissuade him from what he was about to do.
“Let us go to the high place where Molech awaits us,” Hirah said, turning to lead the men some distance from his house.
The women did not follow, and Judah stood torn, longing to do something to stop this but forced along by the crowd of men to follow. He glanced back as the men stepped beyond the courtyard and saw that the women had surrounded the mother and her daughters. Loud weeping began, and the chorus of their voices pierced his heart.
He moved ahead as if in a dream, and at last they approached the high place. There on a large round stone structure stood a tall bronze statue with arms reaching forward and toward the sky. A fire smoldered from the bowels of the metal beast.
Nadeem moved up the steps to the statue while the rest of the men stayed behind, waiting at the base of the high place. Judah caught a glimpse of Nadeem’s tortured face, but a moment later he unbound the child, a boy, and walked forward. The child began to cry, but the man continued forward as though pushed there by an unseen hand. He placed the boy on the bronze arms, and the boy rolled into the flames, his cries silenced.
Bile rose in Judah’s throat, and his head pounded as he stared, unable to pull away from the unimaginable scene. Had Nadeem just sacrificed his only son? Did every man in the group have a similar experience? Of course they did. This was Canaan, and these were their beliefs. If they could appease the gods of their people, perhaps they would be prosperous. It was a pervasive belief that swept the land where Jacob had traveled since leaving Laban. And even Laban had his household gods. Until Abraham had heard from the Almighty, no one knew any different.
But Judah knew better. He just hadn’t wanted his father’s God to rule his choices.
Your choices have brought you here.
The thought pressed in on him, and he felt smothered by the smoke, by these men, by all of it. Yet could he remain here and not accept their customs? Even if he didn’t believe them, he could still live among them.
Hirah was wrong though. Judah would never participate in such a thing. His sons would not be brought up to believe such lies.
But as he headed back to Hirah’s home and saw the food laid out and the women no longer weeping, he could not force his family to leave this celebration, though what they were celebrating he would never understand. Somehow he had to forget what he’d seen. Somehow he had to make peace with this culture yet keep his distance. That would probably mean another conversation with Kaella and with Hirah. Which would lead to confrontation.
Or he could keep his mouth shut and ignore it all. Fleeing was better than fighting.
20
SIX MONTHS LATER
Judah and Hirah walked the dusty road to the outskirts of Kezib to meet traveling merchants. Er skipped along ahead of them, continually dropping out of Judah’s sight. He should have left the child with Kaella. She had spoiled him to the point that he’d become nearly incorrigible.
“He will mature,” Hirah said as they approached the caravan master. “You should betroth him to a future wife, so he will know that one day he needs to become a man.”
Judah shook his head, trying to keep his mind on watching Er and wondering if this caravan master was the same one who had purchased Joseph. It had been years since that awful day, but . . . could these Ishmaelite traders be the same men he’d dealt with back then?
“Did you not hear me, my friend?” Hirah interrupted his musings. “You are terribly distracted today.”