Noah walked all night. The road wasn’t difficult, but it had its perils nonetheless.
Across the battlefield, corpse robbers stripped the bodies of the dead warriors strewn on the ground, searching for anything of value--leather boots, fur hats, pouches of coins. Some of the corpse robbers eyed Noah as he passed, wondering whether it was worth turning him into a corpse in order to rob him. But one glare from Noah convinced them that it was in their best interests to concentrate only on those who were already dead.
Once past the battlefield, Noah had to watch out for highway robbers and cutthroats. Noah knew of more than one unwary traveler who had come to an untimely end on these roads. Murder was rampant these days, Noah thought with disgust. Murder and all manner of sins. "The world is falling apart," he sighed aloud.
As Noah trudged along the road, he continued to smell the faintly sweet, nauseating odor he had noticed earlier on the battlefield. To distract his mind from the smell, he thought about his home, and his loved ones who were waiting for him there.
There was his wife, Naamah, whom he loved with his whole heart. And his three young sons, Ham, Shem, and Japheth, who meant all the world to him. In his absence they were tending Noah’s small, but thriving, fabric dying business, which brought some color to an otherwise drab, gray city.
Noah thought about his city with bitterness. When he was young, at least, it seemed as if some goodness dwelt there. Perhaps he was mistaken, he thought now. Perhaps it had only seemed so through the innocent eyes of a child. For nowadays everywhere he turned there was evil and debauchery. Every street held a house of ill repute, a gambling establishment or opium den. You couldn’t trust your neighbors not to rob you when you left your home.
Some days Noah thought he would pack up and move his family away from the city. But what would he do" He toyed with the notion of farming. Noah had always enjoyed the company of animals. In fact, truth be told, he preferred animals to people. Animals never cheated you, he thought, or lied to you, or had to make you feel bad in order to make themselves feel good.
With these thoughts running through his head, the hours of the night passed quickly. Just as sky began to change from diamond-studded black to a delicate shade of orange rose, Noah saw the massive stone walls of the city he called home in the distance.
Noah picked up his pace. He couldn’t wait to see his wife and children, and let them know he was still alive.
The heavy wooden gates of the city were wide open when Noah reached them. The guards inside were sprawled against the wall in drunken stupor. Clearly the news of the army’s victory had already reached them.
One of the guards blinked open a bleary eye and tried to focus it on Noah. "Halt," he said, without standing, "who goes there?" The words came out in a half-hearted croak.
"Noah, the dyer of fabric."
The guard nodded without recognition and waved Noah through the gate. Noah had the feeling that if he’d answered, "Death, the destroyer of all who dwell within," the guard would have waved him through just the same.
Then, just as Noah was stepping gingerly over the supine guard, the drunken man grabbed the hem of Noah’s robe. "Just come from the battle, did you?" the guard asked, a tremble of excitement in his voice.
"I did," Noah nodded, eager to move on.
The guard grinned. "Good killing there" Was it good killing!"
Noah pulled his robe away. "No killing is good," Noah answered, disgusted, then turned and walked away, as the guards laughed raucously behind him.
Noah hurried down the street. He had expected the sickly sweet smell to dissipate as he left the battlefield behind. Instead it had grown surprisingly stronger. Now in the city it was almost powerful enough to make him gag. Noah held his breath as long as he was able, then tried breathing through his mouth to avoid the smell. But he felt the foul stench travel down his throat and lodge deep within his lungs. Noah knew he had to reach home before it made him pass out.
Noah ran down one filthy street after another.
Then, ahead of him, at the end of a winding lane, he finally saw his simple home. Relief coursed through Noah as he ran down the road toward the modest little house.
Noah ran inside and slammed the door behind him. He leaned against the rough wooden timbers and took one deep breath after another, filling his lungs with the sweet air of home.
Noah ran inside and slammed the door behind him. He leaned against the rough wooden timbers and took one deep breath after another, filling his lungs with the sweet air of home.
Noah, surprised, stopped taking breaths. Then, slowly, he sniffed the sweet air. It wasn’t just a figure of speech--the air was sweet. The foul stench was completely gone. Noah took another deep, contented breath and let it out.
What this meant, he had no time to puzzle out, for he heard a delighted "Noah!" behind him.
Noah turned. There, coming down the stairs, was his beautiful Naamah, his adoring wife.
Noah took two steps toward her as she crossed the remaining distance with the speed of a fish through water and threw her arms around his neck.
"Noah! You’re back! You’re back!" she said, kissing him and crying at the same time, so Noah could taste her salty tears on her sweet lips. "Are you all right?" she asked. "Are you wounded?" She hugged him. "I missed you so much."
Noah looked at the beautiful woman with long dark hair who was holding him, and once again beheld the meaning of his life.
"No wounds, Naamah my love," Noah answered softly, holding her gently, relieved to feel her touch. Then, credit where credit is due, he added, "The Lord God protects me always."
"I thank him for that," Naamah said, holding her husband even tighter. Although she couldn’t resist adding, "But He shouldn’t have let the battle happen in the first place."
She didn’t mean to sound bitter, but she couldn’t help it. For weeks she had lain awake at night, worrying about her husband. There had been no news from the battlefield during all that time--for all she knew, he could have been killed the first day. She buried her face in his chest and heaved a deep sigh of relief.
But Noah gave some thought to what she had said, then shook his head. "The battle was man’s idea, not God’s."
"Did we win?" Naamah asked, her voice trembling.
Noah nodded grimly.
"Was it terrible?" she asked.
Noah’s voice was low. "I’ve had enough, I swear. Duty or no, I’ll never go through it again."
Naamah kissed him again. "But you’re home now, and that’s all that matters." Naamah turned to the doorway and called out. "Boys! Boys! Your father’s back!"
Noah heard a scrambling and a scraping from the next room--the sound, he knew, of his three sons bounding to their feet. And sure enough, within seconds, they came scampering through the doorway.
Here came Ham, the oldest of the three, and at thirteen years of age already a natural born commander. Brave, strong, compassionate, surely he would grow up to be a great leader of men. "Father! Father!" Ham cried as he slammed into Noah’s legs. "How many did you kill?"
And right behind him came Shem, a year younger, already wise beyond his years and interested in all the facets of nature. Noah had now doubt he would grow up to be a doctor or scientist, bringing valuable discoveries to a grateful world. "What was it like," Shem asked, "what did it sound like, and smell like, and feel like" Tell me everything!"
And bringing up the rear, still wiping the sleep from his eyes, was his youngest, Japheth. Even though he was only eleven years old, Noah could already tell the boy was a dreamer. When he grew up Noah was confident he would trade in the world of ideas--as a philosopher, perhaps, or an artist. "Did you dance and sing when it was over," Japheth asked, his eyes misting over dreamily at the imagined sight.
"You must have killed a hundred men!" Ham boasted on Noah’s behalf.
"Did you bring me anything from the battlefield to study?" Shem asked.
"Sing me a song of battle," Japheth begged.
"Did you bring us an enemy ear?" Ham demanded. "Or a nose--nobody has an enemy nose! We can put it on the mantle!"
Noah looked down at the expectant faces of his sons. How could he make them understand that killing is wrong" How could he explain to them that the Lord forbids it" All that their society has taught them since they day they were born was how ennobling and enriching and exciting it is to kill. If Noah told them what he believed, his own sons would consider him some kind of freak.
"I’ll talk about it later, boys," was all that Noah could manage.
Naamah clapped her hands. "That’s enough out of you boys. Can’t you see your father is tired" He has to sleep."
The boys, disappointed, reluctantly nodded.
"In the meantime," Naamah continued, turning to smile at Noah, "let’s give thanks to God for your safe return."
Noah nodded, and smiled at her gratefully. With enough time, he thought, with enough patience, he could teach his boys about the Lord’s mysterious ways. Noah closed his eyes and began, "Thank you Lord, for protecting your servant Noah, and keeping his family safe while he was--"
"You did kill someone!" It was Ham’s excited voice, rising shrilly above Noah’s quiet prayer. Ham was staring at the blood smeared across the front of Noah’s smock--the blood of the wounded whose lives Noah had tried to save. "Look, Shem! Look, Japheth!" Ham shouted, pointing. Then, to his father, proudly, "You did kill people, Father! Hundreds!"
# # #
Noah lay in his bed, trying to sleep. The bright outside light was muted by the shutters Naamah had drawn tight. Out in the work yard, he could hear the comforting sounds of the days’ work being done--the creaking of ropes as the cloth was dipped in the vats of dye, the softly fluttering sounds of newly-colored fabric drying on the line, snapping in the wind.
Still, even though he was exhausted, the sleep wouldn’t come. Noah was troubled.
He was troubled by the casual killing he had seen on the battlefield. He was troubled by his own sons’ eager anticipation of tales of death and destruction. And he was troubled by the smell he couldn’t identify that had followed him all the way home.
"Lord," he said softly, Then once again, louder, "Lord." He took a deep breath. "I’m sorry to disturb you. But I need...some advice."
Noah hesitated. This seemed so petty, so mundane a thing to ask the Lord about after all these years of silence.
"I know you must be busy with other things, Lord, but this is very important to me..."
Years before, when Noah had first felt the fire of the Lord begin to burn within him, he tried calling to God every day. But Noah had never received an answer. Why should he expect one now"
But Noah pressed on. At the very least, he thought, just speaking his concerns out loud might help him understand them more clearly.
"Should I take my family away from here" Away from the city" I don’t think these are the right surroundings to bring up children."
No answer, as usual. No sound at all except for the fluttering of the fabric in the wind. Noah sighed.
Then he felt it.
It began as a rumbling in the pit of his stomach. Then he felt his bones begin to vibrate. Then his skull began to crackle and hum.
Noah sat up in alarm. If he’d had time to think, he would have thought he was having a seizure, like old Moash the rag-monger who had been bitten by a foaming-mouthed dog and had to be tied up before he bit someone.
And then he heard it.
The voice of God.
"You’re right," the voice said, "I am busy."
Although the words were reasonable enough, Noah could feel every fiber of his body popping and snapping, as if his body were a giant lute being strummed by a hearty hand.
The deep, resonant voice didn’t stop, and neither did the energy waves that were overwhelming Noah. "Come to the top of Mount Topek in three days’ time," the voice said, "and I will tell you what you must do."
As soon as the last word ended, Noah felt his body go slack. He was sweating from head to foot. His back ached. But he felt an overpowering sense of joy such as he had never before experienced. He jumped out of bed and looked around the room.
"Lord!" Noah cried out, "Lord! Is that You?"
Noah dropped to his knees and looked under the bed.
"If it is Me," the voice answered, as Noah again felt the intense vibrations from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, "I’m not likely to be hiding under a bed, am I?"
"No, of course not," Noah said quickly, scrambling to his feet.
"I’ve told you what to do," the voice said sternly.
"Yes, Lord," Noah answered, "the top of Mount Topek." He paused, and considered the Lord’s request. "Why the top of Mount Topek, Lord?"
"Don’t ask why!" God roared. Noah felt the vibrations coursing through his body treble. His knees buckled, and he cowered from the onslaught of powerful feelings. "Just do it!"
Noah bowed to the power behind the words. "Yes! Yes! Of course!"
But in spite of the spastic ecstasy he was experiencing, he couldn’t help thinking of his wife. He had just returned from battle. He hadn’t seen Naamah in weeks. They had not yet spent a night together as man and wife. And yet he would have to tell her he was leaving again. He didn’t know if he could face her alone.
Tentatively, he asked, "Could you speak to my wife, Naamah, Lord" And tell her I’m going on your orders?"
"I’m not going to explain anything to you, your wife, or anyone else!" the voice thundered. Noah felt as though a bolt of lightning had crashed through him. He shook so hard he was afraid he would fly into pieces. "I’ve chosen you, Noah, out of all the men and women in the world. Only you can hear the word of the Lord."
Now Noah was a modest man. In his wildest dreams he would never have imagined that he was anyone special. He was certainly not prepared for this great and terrible honor. "You’ve chosen me?" he blurted, shocked.
The Lord’s voice softened. The jagged pulsing waves of energy passing through Noah’s body modulated into a somewhat more pleasant rumbling. "Yes, Noah," the Lord answered. "I’ve chosen you."
"But..." Noah began, scarce able to find the word. "Why?"
It would have been better for Noah had he not found the word. "There’s that why again!" The Lord’s voice reverberated around the tiny room. Noah felt as if he were caught in the middle of a whirlwind, or tumbling through an avalanche. "I don’t like it!"
Noah fell to his knees. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry."
The feeling in his bones diminished, and he felt the vibration pulling away. "I’ll talk to you again on Mount Topek," the Lord said. And then, so distant, the voice could scarce be heard. "Don’t keep me waiting..."
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