The temple was built of lava-rock. The city surrounding it was like a maze of pink stone, flat-roofed and close to the desert floor as if no one building had the temerity to rise up off its knees and stand in the presence of the temple. Narrow dusty streets and rutted alleyways ran like crooked rivers and disjointed streams through the city, adjoining quiet arched courtyards, which were the backwaters, and linking fast-flowing main thoroughfares, feeding them like tributaries. The city swam with life: some seventy thousand people living and working here, bartering and marrying, tilling the land and raising children, worshipping in the temple and eventually going to meet their Maker.
For many years the city of Shiloh had enjoyed peace and prosperity. The spring which bubbled up from the lava-rock had been channelled and led to cool stone tanks below ground, saved and not squandered, and from there to the fields where it fed crops of maize and corn and small groves of olive trees. The city was self-sufficient in the basic necessities of life, and anything it lacked (timber was in short supply, as were spices, woven cloth and fresh camel meat) it could exchange for grain with the traders who came from the north: hard-eyed men with weatherbeaten faces who spoke in a guttural mixture of dialects, drove hard bargains, got drunk on local wine and then rode off into the wilderness.
So the Tribe had found a place and made a home for itself; the centre and high point of their lives, as it was the centre and high point of the city, was the temple, and in the temple resided their most precious and holy relic: the Ark of God. It was rarely seen by the people of Shiloh, kept within the silent inner chamber and guarded day and night by priests who were appointed by the High Priest, Eli, who came of direct descent through fourteen generations from Kish, First of the Prophets. At this time Eli was ninety-eight years old and he was almost blind, and while the people loved and respected him and sought his counsel in all matters his longevity was the cause of bitterness and dissent amongst those of his own family, principally his two sons, Hophni and Phinehas.
They were jealous men, impatient men, envious of their father’s position and authority, and anxious for the day when he would die and one of them would become High Priest in his place. This was a further cause of unease and bad feeling because it was not yet decided which of his two sons Eli would choose to succeed him. By ancient tradition and the law of the Tribe it should have been the elder, Hophni, but the final decision rested with the High Priest and he had not yet pronounced which was to be chosen. Eli despaired of them, and since his wife had been dead twenty years or more he had no one close to him in whom he could confide.
Several young men – and even very young boys – attended to his ministry, did charitable work for the poor of the city and held in sacred trust their duty to protect the Ark of God from prying eyes. No one was permitted to approach it unless in the company of the High Priest, not even his sons, who chafed at this restriction and called him a fool behind his back. Of the young men who administered Eli’s affairs, Uzza was the most favoured. He was attentive and considerate, having genuine affection for the ageing High Priest, who came more and more to rely on him. Now that his eyes were dim he had to be led everywhere and no longer was able to read the Scriptures of Kish to the people – although he knew by heart long passages which told the story of how the Ark had been sent from heaven to protect the people from plague and famine and to deliver them from their enemies. The tales of its awesome power were legendary.
Phinehas, the younger son, often pestered his father for a demonstration of this power, which he privately believed to be nothing more than a fable; he said that it was unreasonable to expect the Tribe to believe in the sacredness of the Ark when the only evidence of its power resided in a bundle of decaying scrolls that no one took the trouble to read any more.
Eli answered him in this way: ‘You mean that you do not believe, Phinehas. It is you whose faith is lacking, not the people’s. I know that the Ark was sent from on high and that its power has served us since the days of our forefathers. You will have to take my word not as your father but as the High Priest.’
‘But even you have to take it on trust,’ Phinehas protested. He glanced at his brother and raised his eyes to the ceiling in a show of insolent frustration, knowing that Eli was unable to see his expression. He sighed and said, ‘We’re told that the Ark has this so-called power, we’re instructed from birth to believe in it, but we’re never shown anything. It could be an old wives’ tale for all anybody knows.’
‘That’s true,’ Hophni said stolidly, it’s a fact.’ He was six years older than his brother, a dour unprepossessing man lacking intellect and imagination. Phinehas made fun of him and his plodding ways, though out of his hearing.
‘You are both faithless,’ Eli said, more in sadness than in anger. His eyes were curdled like sour milk, only able to perceive the difference betweeen light and dark and a few vague indiscriminate shapes, seen dimly like monsters in a fog.
‘Uzza has enough faith for both of us,’ Phinehas snickered, pulling a face at the young man who stood by Eli’s chair, waiting to serve him. ‘He even believes that the Ark fed us in the wilderness, making food from stones and’ – he threw up his hands in a flippant gesture – ‘thin air.’
‘I do believe it,’ Uzza said gravely. ‘The evidence is here all around us: the city, the people, the temple—’
‘And the sacred Ark,’ Phinehas scoffed.
‘Do not make a mockery of it,’ Eli said. He raised his milky eyes and looked in the direction of Phinehas’s voice. ‘Unbelief will be your downfall, my son. “He that despises the works of the Lord shall perish”,’ he quoted from the Scriptures.
Phinehas wrinkled up his nose and blew out his cheeks in an exaggerated parody of derision and then winked at his brother in silent conspiracy. He knew that Uzza would say nothing: he never did, no doubt out of a sense of personal integrity, which branded him a fool in Phinehas’s eyes.
Hophni said woodenly, ‘Did the Ark plant crops? Did it harvest them so that we could eat? How did it find water in the desert?’
‘It is not meant for us to know these things,’ said his father. We don’t possess the wisdom to understand the ways of God. But by believing in Him we have received his bountiful mercy and protection through many generations. Uzza is right: the evidence that these things came to pass is all around us if we have eyes to see.’
‘I have eyes,’ Phinehas said glibly. ‘But have you?’ A smirk that was more of a grimace hovered on one side of his face.
‘The Prophet Kish,’ Hophni said, flexing his broad shoulders. ‘We hear every day of his, prophecies but nothing ever comes of them. Nobody appears, no miracles happen, no Saviour comes. Are we supposed to wait forever?’
‘The Saviour will not come until His time,’ Uzza said quietly. ‘If you bothered to read the Scriptures you’d know that.’
‘Don’t lecture me,’ Hophni said, becoming red in the face. ‘I’ve read the Scriptures. They say things will happen but they never do.’ He smacked his meaty palms together. ‘Why do we need a Saviour anyway? What is He supposed to save us from?’ He looked at his brother.
The High Priest gazed blindly in front of him. ‘From ourselves if need be. He is the true light who will lead us along the path of righteousness. All men are weak, all men have sinned; it is only through our belief in His Divine Grace that we will find salvation.’
Phinehas made a grotesque face again, this time in a fit of sulky ill temper, like a childish tantrum. ‘Yes of course, father,’ he said sweetly, his words at odds with his contorted expression. ‘Anything you say, father.’
Eli held out his right hand and at this signal Uzza stepped forward and helped him rise. ‘I must go into the silent inner chamber. An old man has so little time left to pray. Lead me forward, Uzza.’
‘Pray for us, father,’ Phinehas said.
‘I will do that, my son.’
They went out, the High Priest leaning on the arm of the young man and staring sightlessly ahead.
‘I wish he’d hurry up and die.’ Hophni folded his arms and grasped his biceps, digging his thumbs into the hard muscular swellings.
‘That will still leave you and me, dear brother,’ said Phinehas with a charming smile. ‘Supposing he drops down dead without having named his successor? Are we to fight one another for the privilege?’
‘I am the eldest,’ Hophni said. It was flat and without emotion, a statement of fact.
‘The High Priest must choose. That is the law.’
‘We shall see.’
‘We shall indeed see.’
‘He will choose me.’
‘In a blue moon,’ said Phinehas, and threw up his hands. ‘What’s the point in squabbling about it? He won’t die, he’ll hang on till he’s 150. He’s tough as an old goat and just as stubborn.’
‘I could throttle him with my bare hands.’
‘Well done. Good thinking. What a brilliant mind you have. Then we’d be cast out and left to shrivel in the desert like camel dung. A few bleached bones and a couple of empty skulls.’
Hophni lifted his leg and farted and wafted the odour away with his heavy blunt hands. ‘I’m not prepared to wait forever,’ he snarled.
‘Well now, dear brother,’ Phinehas said, stepping up to the High Priest’s chair and sitting down, wrapping the cloak around his legs. ‘There are others who would like to see him dispatched to his Maker – for a price.’
Hophni frowned stupidly. ‘Others?’ he said. ‘Here in the city? The people of Shiloh?’
‘Not the people of Shiloh.’ Phinehas almost groaned with the tedium of having to explain everything at the level a child of ten would understand. ‘The people of Shiloh would sooner gaze into the sun all day than harm a hair on his head.’ He leaned forward and his voice became soft and low. ‘There’s a tribe nine days’ journey from here, to the south, across the desert plateau, who dwell in a city called Ashdod.’
‘I’ve heard of it.’
‘Marvellous,’ said his brother. ‘Who would have known.’
‘Don’t mock me,’ Hophni warned him. ‘I’m just in the mood to wring a neck or two.’ He swung his heavy arms to and fro.
‘Listen. Shut up and listen. In the temple at Ashdod there is a god, worshipped by the people of that tribe. He and his people will be the instrument of our release from this tiresome burden: they too desire to number the days of our beloved father, the High Priest Eli.’
‘Why? For what reason?’
‘I told you – for a price.’
Hophni was suspicious. ‘What price? What do they want?’
‘They want the Ark,’ Phinehas said, beaming all over his face. ‘They want that pile of useless old junk in the silent inner chamber. Now of course Eli will never agree to it and so they will have to kill him to get it. Do you see how simple it is, how neat? And we’ll be rid of him!’
‘That’s all?’ Hophni said. He didn’t seem entirely convinced. ‘What do they want it for? What use is it to them?’
‘Don’t ask me, I don’t know. As the Dagonites – ask Dagon himself. Anyway, what does it matter? They will come to take it, Eli and the people will resist, he’ll be killed along with a few thousand others and that will leave only you and me. Dear brother.’
‘I still don’t understand,’ Hophni said, his brows drawn together. ‘How do you know this?’
Phinehas was grinning. ‘I know because I’ve spoken with the emissary of Dagon. He’s in the city at this moment. He sought me out.’
‘He sought you out? The son of the High Priest? Why should he do that?’
‘Perhaps,’ Phinehas said impishly, ‘because I sent for him.’ He looked at Hophni’s face for a moment and sighed and shook his head. ‘You make everything such hard work, dear brother. Do you understand what I’m saying? Do you?’
‘You sent for him,’ Hophni said slowly. He was nodding. ‘Yes, I understand that.’
‘Good.’
‘But why?’
‘Oh God,’ said Phinehas. ‘This is going to take hours.’
‘Then – dear brother – it is going to take hours,’ Hophni said, looking at him with a fixed and intense expression which was not to be avoided.
*
The emissary of the Dagonites appeared in the temple on the following day.
Phinehas had gone to his father saying that an important visitor had arrived, seeking private audience with the High Priest, and Eli, as ever courteous to strangers and conscious of his responsibility, had agreed to meet him. From the beginning he knew there was something odd about the man from the tone and pitch of his voice (it was muffled and at the same time hollow as if he were speaking into a copper vessel) but he couldn’t guess the extent of the emissary’s strange appearance until Uzza described it to him.
‘His body is deformed and he stands awkwardly, one shoulder raised,’ the young man murmured in the ear of the High Priest. ‘He doesn’t breathe as normal men do but sucks the air through a tube which is in the upper part of his chest, a shiny conduit from his chest to his mouth.’ He didn’t have the words to describe him adequately. ‘His voice, as you can hear, sounds distant, like a faint echo.’
‘And where is he from?’ Eli asked gently.
‘He says he is a Dagonite from the city of Ashdod.’
‘Then if he comes in humility he is welcome to our temple.’ He looked to where he knew the visitor stood and raised his voice. ‘The High Priest of Shiloh sends greetings to your Lord who resides in the city of Ashdod. Let there be peace and goodwill between our two peoples.’
The Dagonite emissary didn’t respond. He stood before the High Priest, his breathing hoarse in the tube. He was a huge man, even though twisted, with a single sharp protuberance, which gave him the appearance of a hunchback.
Uzza was disquieted by the man’s sullen behaviour. He called out, ‘It is customary in our city to show respect before the office of the High Priest.’
‘I bow to no one but the god Dagon.’ The words were forced from his throat with a great effort and his breathing was hollow and rasping in the tube, like a harsh sigh. He looked towards Phinehas for a moment, whose face betrayed no emotion, and then said, ‘The god Dagon is the most powerful in all this land. He sends to know if the people of Shiloh acknowledge him as the one true god. His power is eternal, his vengeance swift and terrible, but his mercy is prodigal to those who truly believe in him.’
And now he waited, this sighing hulk of a man, having delivered his speech, as someone who is trained by rote to speak and then must pause to await a response.
Eli said, ‘Is your god not content with his own people? Are they not worthy of him, or he of them?’ His eyes, veiled with rheumy whiteness, roamed blankly round the temple as if searching for something. ‘Does he seek other subjects to pay him the respect his own brethren do not?’
‘The god Dagon is the one true god. He sends to know if the people of Shiloh—’
‘I think we understood the first time,’ Uzza said. His voice trembled with a furious rage which he tried to contain. ‘You come to our city and are received with kindness and in good faith, and straightaway you betray those sentiments and insult the hospitality shown you. Is this how your “god” instructs the people of Ashdod to behave?’
‘The god Dagon means you no harm,’ the emissary said in his hollow rasping voice. ‘He sends me to tell you that you need have no fear. But it is reported to him that the people of Shiloh worship false idols and that you have in your keeping a device of ancient days, said to have come from heaven – is this not so?’
He looked again at Phinehas as if seeking confirmation of this fact. The younger son glanced towards his father in sly expectation. Hophni stood nearby, glowering and flexing his thick forearms.
‘Why should this concern your god?’ Eli asked. ‘It is true that we possess such an object, revered by our tribe, which has belonged to us for many generations. We keep it here in the temple as a symbol of our faith.’
‘It is sacrilegious to worship false idols,’ the emissary said tonelessly. ‘The god Dagon is displeased with the people of Shiloh and sends me to take from you the false image and to set in its place his own likeness. His power is eternal, his vengeance—’
‘Swift and terrible, yes we know,’ Eli said, and Uzza was surprised to see a faint smile on his face. The High Priest went on, ‘If your god believes the image to be false why does he not want it destroyed?’ Again the smile.
‘That is his order: to cast out all false idols.’
‘But not to have them destroyed? That seems very strange. You have been told to take it with you to the city of Ashdod; is Dagon so afraid of the idol that he must see it for himself?’
The Dagonite emissary shuffled his feet as if embarrassed or lost for words. His breathing rustled in the tube. He raised his dim strangely-coloured eyes and looked towards Phinehas as if in need of guidance.
Phinehas said easily, ‘From what the emissary says it would seem that Dagon is a warlike god who will only be appeased if we relinquish the Ark to him.’
‘Yes,’ the Dagonite mumbled. ‘Yes, that is right. That is my message.’
‘You interpret for him very well,’ Uzza said dryly, casting a sidelong glance at the younger son.
‘I have a well developed understanding of people.’
‘And of gods, apparently.’
Hophni said sullenly, ‘Is the god Dagon prepared to go to war for the sake of the Ark? Is this all he requires, that we cease to worship false idols?’
‘The Ark is not a false idol and I will not allow my son to call it so,’ Eli said. He tried to rise and Uzza went quickly to support him. When he spoke the emotion had gathered in his throat. ‘The Ark is the handiwork of God, sent down from heaven to protect our Tribe, and you disgrace my name and His holy temple when you blaspheme in that manner. We shall never give it up – as Kish, First of the Prophets, is my witness!’
‘We may have to,’ Phinehas remarked casually, ‘The Dagonites are a powerful tribe. They are geared for war. How can we withstand them if they decide to attack?’
Eli sank back, his head vibrating with the palsy of old age. He spoke quietly, almost inwardly it seemed. ‘What fools I have raised in place of sons. Do you not see that our strength and salvation is in the Ark? Why do you suppose Dagon wants to possess it? He knows of its power and he wants the Ark for himself.’
‘I haven’t seen much evidence of its power recently, have you?’ Phinehas said to his brother.
‘I have never seen it,’ Hophni answered dully. ‘That’s if it exists.’
‘Do you doubt it?’ Uzza said. An idea had come to him and he was shaking inside.
‘I doubt what I’ve never seen.’
‘Then perhaps you should see it,’ Uzza said. ‘And the emissary of Dagon also. If he returns with evidence of its power perhaps his god will think twice before mounting an attack on a “defenceless” people.’
Phinehas came up to where his father sat; his face had darkened; he said sharply, ‘How is it that Uzza speaks so confidently about the Ark? Has he seen its power for himself? Have you shown him things you have not revealed to us, your own flesh and blood?’
‘Uzza has the wisdom to understand many things,’ Eli said. He sounded tired.
‘Do you mean that we’re stupid?’ Hophni stepped up alongside his brother. His heavy square jaw was set rigidly.
Uzza bowed his head. ‘I’m sorry, I have betrayed your trust. You asked me not to speak of such things.’
‘Speak of what?’ Phinehas demanded, looking from the young man to the old. ‘What are these things you’re keeping from us? Are we your sons or aren’t we? Don’t we have a right to know?’
‘It’s me who should know if anyone,’ Hophni said, sticking his lower lip out. ‘I’m to be the next High Priest.’
‘Who says?’ Phinehas jeered.
‘I’m the eldest son and the eldest son becomes High Priest,’ Hophni maintained stubbornly.
‘It hasn’t been decided yet.’
‘It doesn’t have to be decided, it’s the law.’
‘The law says that the High Priest must choose his successor and so far he hasn’t chosen.’
‘I have chosen.’ Eli’s blank eyes gazed placidly into the hazy distance. He raised his right hand and placed it on Uzza’s shoulder.
‘No,’ Phinehas said, shaking his head. His colour had risen. ‘That can’t be. I won’t allow it. We won’t allow it—’
‘What you will or won’t allow doesn’t matter.’ Eli’s voice was very calm. They would have to know and this was as good a time as any. ‘When I am dead, Uzza will be the High Priest in my place. This has been decided these many months past and during this time Uzza has received instruction in the holy rites of the temple. There is nothing either you, Phinehas, or you, Hophni, can do to alter the course of history which shall be written in the annals of our Tribe.’
‘You think not, old man?’ Phinehas said. He turned and pointed at the emissary. ‘There is the history of our Tribe, there in front of you, if you had eyes to see. It doesn’t matter one fig whether or not Uzza becomes High Priest because his term of office will be brief and inglorious. Once the emissary brings word to Dagon of your foolish obstinacy over that – that—’ he stuttered with black rage ‘—that thing you hold sacred, the history of the Tribe will be written in blood. And you will be to blame, old man, with your stupidity and religious dogma and your blind faith in a pile of useless old junk.’
Eli held the young man’s shoulder in a firm grip. ‘Now I know I have chosen wisely. From this day I will not speak of you as my sons. It will be recorded in our history that Eli, High Priest of the city of Shiloh, died without issue.’
‘You will die sure enough,’ Phinehas said. ‘Our history will record that before too long. The god Dagon will see to that!’
‘How do you know it isn’t Dagon who hasn’t long to live?’ Uzza said. ‘With all his armed might he cannot overcome the power of the Ark of God.’
‘Power?’ Phinehas said. ‘What power?’ He turned to the emissary. ‘Don’t be taken in by this talk. He hopes to frighten you with superstitious nonsense; the Ark resides in the silent inner chamber, hidden away from the people, because Eli knows it to be a false idol. He uses it to scare everyone.’ He snorted. ‘It hasn’t the power to scare a pariah dog.’
‘I’ve never seen it do anything.’ Hophni added. ‘Not a thing.’ He pulled at his meaty fingers, cracking the joints.
Uzza stepped down and said, ‘We should give the emissary something of importance to report to his lord and master.’
‘I forbid this,’ Eli said, reaching out his hands. ‘The Ark is not a plaything. It shouldn’t be used to frighten fools and unbelievers.’
‘You told me once that it was a wise man who knows the extent of his own ignorance.’ Uzza’s voice was very cold and menacing. ‘I hope to make the emissary wise and through him the god Dagon. Our guest should return with a story worth telling.’
‘But the danger …’ Eli said.
Phinehas looked around him. He sensed the uneasiness and said blusteringly, ‘The old man talks like a child. Let the emissary see the Ark; it will mean less to him than it does to us.’ He looked at his brother and tried to smile.
But when the emissary saw the Ark he halted abruptly and stared at it, his breathing a hoarse rustle in the tube which connected his mouth to his chest. He leered up at it sideways, his misshapen head held at an angle.
Phinehas said, ‘Don’t be afraid of the light, it comes from within the sphere. It can’t harm you.’
Uzza led the High Priest to the steps which went up to the catafalque on which the Ark rested and together they knelt and bowed their heads, their lips moving in silent prayer. Above them the Ark gave out its steady unremitting glow, lighting up the walls of the silent inner chamber which had been hewn out of the lava-rock. The high domed roof still bore the marks of the implements used by workmen of past generations, and all around the chamber, in niches hollowed out of the rock, elaborate objects of gold and silver and precious crystal gleamed in the bland unchanging light.
The emissary recorded all this. He noted each detail of the chamber, the sacred objects in their recesses, the rich heavy drapes deadening all sound; and he looked closely at the Ark itself, raised up on its platform, the glowing sphere like a huge skull and below it the pipes of burnished brass coming from this place to that, that place to the other. There were too, he saw, strange symbols on the flat part, pressed into the body of the Ark, which to him were meaningless. He was bewildered by it all, unable to comprehend its purpose, and the source of illumination was the most perplexing thing of all: no flame, no fire, no smoke – only pure steady light.
Hophni clicked his tongue and said, ‘You see how they worship the thing, as though it was a god itself. But it never moves,’ he told the emissary, ‘never speaks, gives no sign at all.’ He turned away, stamping his feet in irritation.
The emissary said, ‘I have never seen anthing like this holy object of yours. Where did it come from?’
‘It appeared to us in the desert one day,’ Phinehas said. ‘Out of the blue.’ He laughed openly. ‘So the Scriptures tell us. But your guess is as good as mine.’
‘I have no guess. It is unworldly.’
Uzza and the High Priest had risen. The old man turned his empty eyes on the others and held his arms high above his head. ‘Behold the Ark of God! It has watched over us for centuries and even now will deliver us from our enemies. Is it not a wondrous sight, emissary of Dagon? Will you tell your lord and master all you have seen in the temple at Shiloh?’
‘As your sons say, High Priest, it neither moves nor speaks nor makes a sign. It is fearsome and strange enough to frighten children but not grown men. The god Dagon could smite it down with a single blow.’ His broad slanting brow formed a bony prominence so that his eye-sockets were hidden by the shadow it cast. His features were made unreadable by their grotesque disproportion.
‘“By their unbelief shall ye know them”,’ Uzza quoted softly. He was smiling radiantly. He took Eli’s hand and pressed it between his own, holding it for a moment, then deftly mounted the steps of the catafalque, and the High Priest immediately called out to him:
‘Do not approach the Ark. I forbid it! Uzza, hear my command and obey, I beg you!’
Phinehas said, ‘This is a cheap trick even for you, old man. You think the emissary of Dagon will be taken in by this charade?’
Eli’s arms were outstretched in supplication; his feet fumbled uselessly to locate the step. ‘Don’t let him approach the Ark – Hophni, Phinehas – I beg you to stop him!’ He stumbled and fell full-length on the steps, still reaching out with hands the colour of old wax.
‘Take no notice,’ Phinehas said to the emissary. ‘They have practised this deception in the hope that it will impress you. In all the years since I was first brought to the temple the Ark has remained the same, exactly as you see it now. It’s quite harmless, I’d stake my life on it.’
Even as he was speaking Uzza had climbed to the uppermost level where the Ark rested, supported and held upright by three short struts which came out at an angle from the main body. The young man stood before it, the light from the sphere shining down on his head, and then reaching up on tiptoe, put out his hand. The two sons of Eli and the emissary of Dagon saw a sliver of light, like the finest strand of pure silver; it appeared at the tip of Uzza’s outstretched hand and seemed to connect him to the Ark and at once his entire body was illuminated as from within and the glow became so fierce that they had to shield their eyes from its blinding brilliance.
Eli too – even in near blindness – had been able to distinguish the intense light and he uttered a cry of anguish and pain; and then the glow faded so that his sight was dim once more and he could not see (as could the others) the standing figure of dark grey which crumbled and sagged, a body dissolving into dust.
*
The upper sphere of the Ark shone steadfastly in the silent inner chamber. In the shadowed recesses the sacred objects reflected their gleams of gold and silver, as still and silent as the source which illuminated them. Its presence was eternal, indifferent to time and the fortunes of men.
Eli knelt before the catafalque, his hands clasped tightly together, alone in sightless prayer. He was praying not for deliverance but for understanding. He did not think to question the wisdom of God, nor His mysterious ways, but he felt that his life had been wasted in ignorance if he did not finally understand why a good man should perish by the hand of the Lord when other men, of evil intent, were spared His wrath and holy retribution. Throughout his long life he had kept good faith, overcoming all doubt, believing that the final judgment would favour the meek, the just, and all those who strove to live peaceably with their fellow men. The world had seemed to deny this creed, to fling it back in his face, and yet he clung stubbornly to his belief in the sure knowledge that God would ultimately punish the wrongdoer and reward the man of true faith.
How could he now explain – not to others but to himself – the injustice and futility of the young man’s death? Uzza had sacrificed himself to demonstrate the power of the Ark to the enemies of the Tribe, but surely it wasn’t necessary for him to die? Wasn’t it enough that he was prepared to give up his life to save the lives of others? God could not be so callous. Why should a man of faith be taken away when the earth teemed with evil and wickedness, when false gods sought to spread their corrupt rule and even now were planning to invade the city of Shiloh and sack the temple and carry off its most holy symbol?
He looked to where he knew the Ark was stationed and prayed for a sign. It was written in the Scriptures, from the time of Kish onwards, that whenever the Tribe was threatened or in jeopardy they had received a sign from heaven which had revived and strengthened their faith in the Lord God. Now, if ever, was such a time. If they were to defeat the Dagonites and prevent the desecration of the Ark, Eli, as leader of his people, required an act of affirmation from its Maker. In his heart, though he dared not think of it, it was to be atonement for the death of Uzza. Without a sign Eli doubted whether he had sufficient faith to sustain him in the deliverance of his people: more than anything he wanted to believe, to have his faith restored, but in effect he was making a bargain with God—
Show me the way, make me strong again, and I will serve you with all my heart and soul.
But first God had to give him a sign.