The Walls Came Tumbling

    The thunder roars, shaking the house and sending dust into the air. "Papa!" cries a small frightened voice from the mat in the corner. "Hush Ayalah," the child's father soothes, sitting at the edge of her mat, "there is naught to be afraid of. It is only thunder. Now go back to sleep." With her father's steady hand stroking her hair, Ayalah's frail body still quivers, though she knows what he says is true. A few moments pass, but still Ayalah cannot seem to settle down. Propping herself up on her elbow she whispers, "Papa, will you tell me the story of Jericho again?" Her father sighs, but she can see his white teeth gleaming in the darkness--it is his favorite story to tell. "Very well, my dear." He leans back against the rough clay wall and closes his eyes, remembering.

    "Lior!" beckons a woman's voice from within the house. "How have you been?" Lior looks up into his Aunt's pleasant face, smiling politely. "Very well, Aunt Rahab. And you?" She smiles sweetly and beckons him inside the door. "Now, young man, I am always the same here. How are your mother and father? It has been some time since I have seen them..." she drifts off, leaving an awkward silence. Lior knows that his parents have purposely been avoiding Rahab after she came clean about her line of work. He understands why they have shunned her, but always thought it a bit extreme as Aunt Rahab is such a kind woman. He places a calloused hand on her arm and smiles sadly at her as she places her smooth hand on top of his. "Mum and Dad are well, or as well as can be expected, I suppose, with the Israelites on our doorstep." He chuckles bitterly at the truth of it. Aunt Rahab's eyes tighten at the mention of this and Lior immediately regrets bringing it up. "I'm sure there will be negotiations though, no need to be overly worried!" he chips out brightly, perhaps too brightly. Patting his hand Aunt Rahab murmurs, "Right, I suppose so. But, Lior," she stares at his face with such intensity he squirms uncomfortably. "If anything happens, you come to me. The whole family. Please, remember this." Lior pulls away quickly, stumbling in his rush to leave. "Yes, of course. Good day, Aunt Rahab!" He leaves her standing at the door looking worriedly after him. "I pray to God that you do remember, Lior." she whispers to no one.

    Seven days later, Lior remembers, not a moment too late.
Chaos. That is the only word to describe what Lior feels. Pure chaos. From the people screaming to the entire ground shaking, the whole city is in an uproar. That morning the Israelites had once again begun their marching and blaring of the trumpets just as they had for the past week. No one inside the walls of Jericho had dreamt that the Israelites’ threats would be fulfilled. Just after the people had shouted, the rumbling had begun. The ground shook, throwing people and structures to the ground. And that was when Lior had remembered his Aunt's warning.    "Mum!" Lior bursts into the door to see his family huddling together in the corner, praying to every god they can recall. His mother turns her face to her son, the soot covering it making the tear tracks even more obvious. His voice conveys the urgency he feels, "We need to go. Now!"

    "My son..." Lior's mother soothes. "It's okay, we will end together." Her arm is held out beckoning him to come join them. "No!" Lior takes a step backwards, "We must go to Aunt Rahab's now! She has offered us shelter!" His mother rises and stumbles as the earth quakes yet again, "Lior," she says sternly,"there is no hope. Our gods are not strong enough to save us. And Aunt Rahab cannot help us, enough of this nonsense." Her strong hands grip his arm pulling him further into the room and death as Lior sees it. Lior glances at his father beseechingly and begs, "Please, Father, what can it hurt? We have no more time!" As if agreeing with his words the far wall collapses, pelting the family with dust and rocks. Slowly Lior's father nods, "Yes, we will go. Come children."

    "Abrahem." snaps his wife. "We will do no such thing. We are to die with honor, not in the house of a...a harlot." She spits out the word like it is a curse. Abrahem turns to her and says softly, "Your pride will kill us, woman." And with that Abrahem rises, handing Lior the youngest child and guiding the other two out the door with him. They make their way slowly, crawling across rubble and narrowly avoiding being crushed by rocks. Finally they approach the house which stands tall, unharmed. Just before Lior knocks on the door it is opened by Rahab who pulls him inside where ten other people sit huddled in circles. Lior vaguely recognizes them as distant relatives. "Lior, thank God! Come in, come in!" she ushers them inside and passes the baby off to another woman's waiting arms. "Where is Ronia?" Rahab's voice is laced with worry. Abrahem hangs his head. "She refused to come." Rahab quickly nods, understanding. "I will go after her." Lior's voice is steady, though he feels ready to crumble. Just then a final quake rocks the home and the crashing begins in earnest. It is almost worse to simply hear the destruction of a whole people than to be a part in it. Aunt Rahab places a hand on Lior's shoulder her eyes gleaming with tears. "It is too late, my dear. I'm terribly sorry." She begins weeping silently and Lior pulls her into an embrace, his own tears joining in her grief.
    Soon the tremors of the city cease, leaving utter ruin. The once great city of Jericho has fallen to the God of Israel, but many have survived the destruction. The moans and screams of injured humans and animals alike echo through the city, but they are not alone for long. The Israelites enter the city and leave no survivors, slaughtering man, woman, and child as commanded by their God. Only one family is left behind. Only one standing house in the heap of rubble that was Jericho.    After waiting in the house for hours upon hours, a knock sounds on the hollow door. Everyone holds their breath, expecting their fate to be the same as the neighbors. Steeling herself, Rahab crosses the room and opens the door calmly. "May I help you?" she asks as if all were normal and a friend were merely asking to borrow some oil. A quiet voice responds gently, "Rahab, we have spared you as we promised. Your household is under our protection and I can guarantee-"
    "Caleb! Thank God!" Rahab interjects swinging the door open, "Are they all...dead?" Caleb nods solemnly. "I have come to take you back to the camp, there is food, tents, and supplies for you all." He turns his head, directly addressing all in the house. "But, I warn you, do not take any money or jewels or valuables with you. Any who take from this city from now on will be cursed by the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob." Each person, frightened, nods quickly in agreement. Caleb suddenly smiles, "Excellent! Let's be on our way!" 
    The group follows Caleb as he carefully picks his way through the rubble. Lior can tell that Caleb is purposefully avoiding any bodies and steering away from the heart of the city where a large cloud of smoke billows, polluting the air. Trying not to look at the lifeless forms, Lior is struck with the thought that somewhere is his own mother's crumpled body. A wave of grief hits him once again, causing his body to rack with silent sobs as he walks. His youngest sister reaches up and takes his hand, squeezing it lightly as if to say that she understands. And together they walk through their past home of heartbreak and into a new future of peace.
    "No, Papa you cannot end the story there! What happens next?" squeals out the very much awake Ayalah. Patting the pillow at the end of the rough mat he says, "Perhaps another time Ayalah, you must rest now." Ayalah sighs dramatically and flops her head onto the pillow, clearly displeased with the unsatisfactory ending. Her father leans down and kisses her temple whispering, "You are the rest of the story, love."