Judah
Once again I told my men to hide themselves in shrubs, tall grasses, and behind boulders. Only one thousand volunteers would fight with us today, but since they were what Adonai had provided, I would be content.
Sitting in the chilly air before sunrise, I remembered that the twelfth of Adar was the anniversary of Esther’s fast. She and her people had been condemned to death under the proclamation of wicked Haman and all had seemed hopeless. But because she fasted, prayed, and demonstrated remarkable courage in the face of a ruthless enemy, Adonai worked through her and saved His people.
Would we be as successful as Esther?
I rolled onto my back and gazed up at the spangled heavens as I waited for morning. Dawn was already fading the night shadows, and a faint glow on the horizon revealed where the sun would soon rise.
Where were Nicanor and his men? I had heard rumors that more than nine thousand foot soldiers had arrived to reinforce his army, and for all I knew they might be only yards away from the empty tents we had set up as decoys.
I turned onto my belly when the sun spread a layer of gold on the horizon. From the hill where I lay I could see shapes stirring in the distant shadows, monstrous shapes that might be war elephants. I strained my ears and thought I heard the grumble of the huge beasts beneath the muffled tread of men shuffling into position.
I did not whistle. I had no need to alert my army because, like me, they were lying in wait, their attention focused on the plain below. The enemy was surrounding our empty camp, approaching as silently as possible on a Sabbath morning, weapons at the ready and war elephants evenly spaced among the companies.
I smiled as the shadows faded and color crept into the landscape. There they were, a splendid military array, their backs to us and their attention focused on a flat plain where no one slept.
Silently, I slid my arm through the strap on the back of my shield and rose to a standing position, feeling the pressure of my men’s eyes. I lifted the sword I won in my first battle and drew a deep breath. “For Jerusalem, the Temple, and Adonai!”
I ran forward, my shield lifted and my sword pointed at the unprotected rear of the enemy line. Behind me, my men sprang from their hiding places, all of them charging down the hill and attacking the vulnerable backs of men and horses and elephants. They had no idea what had happened. Fighting for Adonai and the lives of our people, we chased the Gentile army over the plain and scattered them like feathers in the wind.
Then I found myself face-to-face with Nicanor—I recognized him by his golden breastplate and helmet. Lifting my sword, I announced my name and told him I was about to kill him.
His upper lip curled in a snarl. “Do your worst, Hebrew dog.”
With both hands I brought my sword down and cut off his right arm. He turned to look for his blade, now lying useless on the ground, and as he shifted his position in bewilderment, I swung the sword again, lopping off his head.
The men around me cheered. One pulled the golden helmet away and lifted Nicanor’s head by its long hair. “Victory for Jerusalem!” he cried, and with that phrase on our lips we chased the remainder of the army until they had all abandoned the plain.
The next day we returned to Jerusalem. The priests, who had been fearing our defeat and the burning of the Temple, were ecstatic. Now the entire city could celebrate Purim with light hearts. They offered sacrifices and waved palm branches while singing songs of praise. Wine flowed freely, and the people declared that the fourteenth of Adar would henceforth be known as the anniversary of two great deliverances—the repeal of Haman’s murderous edict and the saving of the Temple from Nicanor.
Someone mounted Nicanor’s head on a post opposite the Temple, along with his right hand, which he had raised as he uttered a blasphemous oath against the Temple of Adonai.
With the visible evidence of HaShem’s victory on full display, my family and the people of Jerusalem celebrated long into the night. After wishing my men well, I went in search of Leah and found her sitting with a group of children and their mothers, holding them spellbound with her story: “And on that day, on a hillside in Lebonah, Judah and his men defeated the mighty warrior Apollonius. . . .”
I was not the only one created for a purpose.