Daniel in the Hands of Babylonians

Smash! The door of the neighbor’s house shattered into a thousand splinters. Soldiers of Babylon’s notorious army had come at last into the city to gather plunder after a long siege. They were drunk with the thrill of victory. After months of privation and fervent prayers of the captive Jerusalemites, the siege had defeated the city. Prophets declared that God was fulfilling His promised judgment on His unfaithful people. Some prophets, that is. Actually, a majority of Daniel’s people had turned to listen to the prophets whose words flattered and provided false hope. Their messages ranged from, “Give allegiance to the gods who will protect you,” and, “The king should seek help from Egypt,” to, “Plead with the Eternal that He would turn from His wrath. Always before, God has delivered His people.” But Daniel had studied at the feet of the old rabbis and the prophets who spoke the word of the LORD. When the Israelites had complained in the desert southwest of Judah, God had judged them. He was merciful and slow to anger, but Judah had deserved this for a long time.

Mama cried in the corner, as every breathing woman in Jerusalem did tonight. The presence of the soldiers meant that their husbands, the last defense, had perished. No time for traditional mourning of sack-cloth and ashes: soon the soldiers would simply kill them all. So Mama knelt in the corner, saying kaddish and gasping out prayers that the remnant would mourn their deaths forever.

If Daniel, a sturdy 15, had known any battle songs, he would have been chanting them. However, the laws and songs of his God were seldom violent. When Daniel studied the law, he saw that every law – even every judgment – was evidence of God’s mercy. Instead, he quoted the most fundamental truth of his faith: “The Lord our God, the Lord, is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” In Daniel’s current mood, it sounded something like a call to rally. Every mother in Judah hoped her son would survive as part of the remnant that would always remain in fulfillment of God’s promises to Abraham and David. Out of such a hope Mama shushed her only remaining son. If he were not so defiant, maybe he would be favored and spared.

Ashpenaz strode into the plundering band of troops, and a hush followed. Keeping a level head amidst such circumstances could mean a promotion. Besides, he had orders from the king. Nebuchadnezzar did not want gold or jewels as much as he wanted converts to witness his kingly prestige. That would show the world that Babylon’s might was in the mind as well as the sword. So the king himself had deployed his highest court official to choose very healthy, extremely teachable young men from each conquered nation.

All the men groaned at the reread of the edict. Ashpenaz was to enter each building, accompanied by his personal guard, first. If and when he found good subjects, nothing should be done in front of them to scar their impression of Babylon’s armies. Once the captive was escorted away, then the sack of the city could continue. At the completion of this sentence, an unstoppable roar resumed.

Next door, Daniel gripped his knife tighter as the noise grew. Fear must not show. The soldiers would be merciless if they thought there would be sport. A doubt crept into his mind, and breached the dam of doubts that now flooded his young thoughts. “Could I run? My life is in ruins. How could the Eternal do this to us, the faithful? To prevent the torment, why not turn the blade on himself?” The door to their own house swung open. An arrogant, unscathed officer strode in. Daniel thrust the doubts aside, replacing them with strategies for his fury.

Daniel stepped one brave, threatening step toward the official. He gave them a defiant look, as though he and his little knife could stand between them and his mother, and prevent them most of all from reaching his temple. They would desecrate it. Ashpenaz smiled Daniel whispered again his creed, expecting his death. Scanning Daniel, Ashpenaz decided the boy looked healthy, had obvious spirit, and the words he was muttering sounded poetic, as only learned men spoke. Yes, a fine example.

“Take him,” he nodded towards Daniel. At first he struggled, but, seeing a glimmer of her faintest hopes, Mama called him down. For a moment, Daniel hesitated, and considered defying Mama. But that would defy his God, all for which he was trying to stand. He would be no better than the soldiers taking him. Nothing and no one was harmed as Daniel was marched through the house, but the moment he passed the threshold, the destruction inside began.

This street boasted the houses of the wealthiest families in Judah, most of them members of the royal clan. Down the road, Ashpenaz selected several more young men: Azariah the nephew of one of the queens, Hananiah a son of a successful wine merchang, and Mishael the only child of a Levite who oversaw temple donations.

The morning arrived, leaving the prisoners shackled, but together, in a tent outside the city. Very few Hebrews were left alive inside the walls. Rumors claimed that their weak king, Jehoiakim, had been captured and would go to Babylon to betray his people as a vassal of the emperor. At least, that was how Daniel and his fellows interpreted the news.

Eventually, as the smoke thinned over Jerusalem, the boys began to share their stories. Before, they had seen each other in the streets, even played together, but now, after on enight, they were new people. What had been was entirely erased. This new life was marked by the events of the previous night.

Hananiah’s older sister had been taken as wife for one of the higher-ranking officers. Mishael spat, because such a marriage was against their law. As a Levite, Mishael was an expert. His father had died a swift death before his eyes, protecting some sacred scroll from defamation. Azariah, the oldest of the group, had been home alone.

Throughout the hours, the four pondered and discussed last night, their current situation, and what to do next. “We should make a resolve,” said Daniel, by far the most passionate in the group, “to keep the Law. We have seen the fruits of disobedience. Since you are the Levite, Mishael, we will ask for your expertise. In memory of our home, our God, and what happened here, we will pray towards this place every day. Mama’s last prayers were that the remnant would not forget. I will remember the prayer of King Solomon, ‘And if they turn back to You with all their heart and soul in the land of their captivity where they were taken, and pray toward the land You gave their fathers, toward the city You have chosen and toward the temple I have built for Your name; then from heaven, Your dwelling place, hear their prayer and their pleas and uphold their cause. And forgive Your people, who have sinned against you.’ Surely the Eternal will remember the prayer of Solomon, even from long ago.” All four of them agreed to uphold the standards of the Law to their deaths, and to pray daily to the One God.

As their trek northward began, whispers told that they were being withdrawn early. Some rumored that the sack of Jerusalem had not been completed. Had God spared them? Then, when they reached Syria, the messages were undeniable: a vassal-king had been set up in Judah, a relative of Jehoachim. They boys’ eyes glimmered as they received the news. Perhaps there were enough fiery young men left to fuel a rebellion.

The ecstasy of the thought dwindled with every step further from their homes. What good would a rebellion do them? While the captives were treated well, the desert sun and weary miles depressed the whole camp. Daniel was also aware that they were passing through relatively hostile territory. Nebuchadnezzar’s armies were hated in many lands.

Babylon was a land hovering just inside their maps. None of the young men knew how long the journey would take; they estimated several months at least. In their Torah, Eden had been near or surrounding Babylon, before the flood of Noah. Nimrod, the great king, had set up his throne near there. Abraham had grown up in Ur, a now desolate city in the in the southeast of the Chaldean empire. Judah’s brethren had been taken decades ago by the Assyrians. Tales told that the Babylonians had extended their empire to include Assyria under the rule of Nabopolassar and his general-son, Nebuchadnezzar. The whole area seemed to be prone to vicious turmoil and violent conquests.

Nebuchadnezzar was famous for many things: his ruthless armies, brilliant strategies, lovely palace, dependence on mysticism, and arrogance not the least. His official, Ashpenaz, followed suit in at least two of those ways. The first was obviously his arrogance. When he walked your way, something about the look in his eyes, or perhaps his gait, made you feel incredibly small. Less obvious at first, but more deadly, were his strategies. In his camp, everything was ordered, clean, and polished. He was strict on behavior, but he let his men have their fun whenever there was a chance. Loyalty and friendship were gained by brilliant tactics. Ashpenaz would make a man feel it was an honor to do some menial task, or that he was merciful to ask only this much. Were it not for Ashpenaz’s own devotion to Nebuchadnezzar, Daniel would have thought he was preparing to supplant him – or his heir.

Strategies were not for soldiers only. Already the captives’ conversion was beginning. They were given new, Babylonian style clothes and haircuts. A bit of a skirmish arose when one of the young men refused to cut his hair, for he had made a Nazarite vow. Despite his protests, Ashpenaz saw that every curly lock was trimmed. Also, Hebrew was forbidden in the camp. In this way, the boys were forced to learn the tongue of the Chaldeans quickly, and they were all much quieter; Ashpenaz had disenabled their ability to organize and communicate a revolt.

As they neared Babylon, the young men were offered dainties and pleasures forbidden by the Law. Daniel and his friends stood resolutely apart from those who gave in, shaking their heads at one who looked to them for guidance. In some ways they had become leaders of the group. More and more as the language became easier, the other boys would come to the four friends with their problems and questions. On the other hand, they were outsiders to the half of the group who gave in to the guards.

“Daniel? Daniel, I would like to speak with you,” called Josiah. His parents had named him that in memory of the faithful king, but Josiah had turned traitor. Inside his tent, Daniel was surprised to hear Josiah’s voice. They had been friends in the other world, in Jerusalem. He saw and felt the pressures Josiah had. Many times, even Daniel thought he would give in himself. Daniel could not be angry with Josiah. Rather, he pitied him.

“Come.” Both boys were in the top five in fluent speech. The other three proficients were also “traitors.” Daniel was a quick learner. “What is it, Josiah?”

“I had to talk. Daniel, this won’t be easy if you resist.”

“It will be impossible if I don’t.”

“We have no hope of returning to our old way of life,” continued Josiah. “Our God did not save us. There is no point in continuing to serve Him.”

“Right and wrong have not changed.”

“Lots of the boys look up to you. They follow your lead. The guards told me that once we get to Babylon – start the real training – there will be punishment for resistance. By your example, the others will be hurt.”

“I won’t change.”

“But don’t you see? That is the point. We will change. The question is how: with pain or without?”

“Then they will have to decide; I cannot give or withhold pain. From what you have said, I think their choice for me will be pain.”

“They are saying that if we cooperate, we get an audience with the king.”

“I don’t care.”

“Daniel, we could ask to return, for the lives of our people!” Josiah pleaded.

“Nebuchadnezzar doesn’t give favors, and if you asked, you would probably get your head chopped off.”

“Yours will be chopped off if you don’t do what they say!”

“If my life matters so little to them, I’ll live it how I like.”

“There is no purpose,” Josiah argued.

“There is every purpose!” For the first time, Daniel raised his voice. “God is still there. Right is still right. If He wants to use me, I want to be ready.”

“Whether He’s there or not, he isn’t powerful enough. I’m on the winning side.”

“For what? To be paraded around like plunder? Some life!”

“Positions are being offered under Ashpenaz in the court of the king for those who finish training best.”

“No, Josiah. I have seen what disobedience to God costs. The sight wasn’t pretty. Jerusalem burned. My family died. Mighty Jerusalem gave herself finally standing for right. If necessary, I will follow.”

Josiah ducked out of the tent. Soldiers called the thoughts now invading his mind ‘doubts.’ But weren’t they convictions? For once, he saw everything from Daniel’s perspective: Josiah was a traitor, God was just, and Jerusalem was noble even though she had been wrong. And this perspective would not be shaken off.

After Josiah had returned to the other side of the camp, Daniel knelt. The effort of the debate had drained him. Scarcely 16, his fists flew like a boy, and the passion that drove him was the same fire from his boyhood, but something was different – in the way he looked at life and the way he addressed his God. Through either the tragic captivity or some natural process of growing up, God had become personal to him. Daniel turned back towards Jerusalem. “Have mercy on Your people…” he began.

A little later, Daniel and Hananiah made their rounds of the camp, encouraging their side to remain true. As they neared the unmarked line between their sides, they heard a raucous in one of the tents. Technically, they weren’t supposed to cross the line, but who would know? Daniel movied in closer to hear. The Babylonian words he picked up he recognized as curses, but as of yet, their group hadn’t interpreted the meaning. None of them were brave enough to ask.

Hananiah was ever the most mischievous. He could manipulate his voice to sound like almost anything. After listening for a while, he pulled up a weed, set it on his head, and marched to the front of the tent. “What on earth?” thought Daniel. Then, putting on his gruffest imitation of Ashpenaz’s voice, thickly laden with a Babylonian accent, Hananiah demanded to know what was going on. The soldiers snapped to attention inside the tent, silenced by their commander.

Daniel watched the scene from behind a crate. This stack had been lugged there by Daniel and a few of the strongest faithful that afternoon. He laughed. The silhouette shadowed on the pale goat-skin tent looked exactly like Ashpenaz in his officer’s cap. The ear-to-ear grin on Hananiah’s face was not noticeable in the shadow. If Hananiah was caught with that ridiculous clump of weeds on his head, he’d be done for.

“We were just persuading a captive not to defect back to the other side, sir.” Despite their fear of the officer, the soldiers believed he would understand the fun.

Continuing the charade, Hananiah tried to conceal the concern he felt, “Yes? Which one? Is he hurt?”

“Yes, sir. Josiah, sir. We sent him on a debate mission as you ordered, but it had the opposite effect. He said, when he came to me, he said that no matter what we offered, he wanted back into the other side of the camp. So I told him there’s no going back. But he picked up his things and walked out, so we dragged him back. He gave us a struggle, but we won quickly enough, sir.” As if to punctuate the actual meaning, Josiah moaned from the corner. Daniel flinched. By your example, others will be hurt. Others? Even Josiah? It had started with him.

“Our policy is not force!” snapped Hananiah, half enjoying the game, half angry. “Let him go back if he chooses. Offer gifts, honors, and ease, but no threats! That is not your job.” How often did Hananiah sneak over to spy out their policies, Daniel wondered. But Hananiah had made a mistake; the soldiers were letting Josiah go, and leaving the tent themselves. Hananiah looked around like a cornered jackal.

“Hey, what?” the first soldier looked confused. The shadow had dwindled to an ornery boy, weed tipped over atop his head. “Where is Ashpenaz?” they demanded. Lying wasn’t allowed.

“He isn’t here. He had business to attend to.” Hananiah returned to halting Babylonian. “Excuse me.” Hananiah scurried away, back to his tent.

Daniel was forced to remain in his hiding place until the guards were gone. While he waited, he listened to the defeated sobs and occasional moans from Josiah. Was doing right really worth the cost? What if everyone suffered like this? But amidst the sobs, Daniel thought he faintly caught the words, “Love the LORD your God…” That passage was sung over cradles, cheered at feasts, quoted on Sabbath, cried in battle, and wept at death. Which was it now?