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Benaiah: Mighty Man of God

By P. H. Thompson

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Benaiah: Mighty Man of God
Chapter One

Benaiah was the son of Jehoiada, the son of a valiant man from Kabzeel,
who had done many deeds. (2 Samuel 23:20)
*****
Benaiah skidded around the corner of Mikhael’s father’s house and surveyed the vast grove of olive trees behind their large home. Mikhael’s father, Kenan was an olive merchant. As he stood there panting to catch his breath, he spotted his friend sitting on the low stone wall skirting their property. He bounced off when he saw Benaiah approach.
“What took you so long?” Mikhael grumbled as Benaiah sprinted up to him. “Simeon is not going to appreciate us showing up late.”
Benaiah rolled his eyes. “My Ima made me bring my little brother along.”
Mikhael peered around Benaiah, as if ten year old Ammizabad might be hiding behind him.
“So where is he?”
“I sent him on an errand.” Benaiah winked. “By the time he’s done, we’ll be long gone. And since he won’t know where we went, he’ll go back home, to the women.”
Mikhael laughed. “Well done.” He grabbed his friend’s arm. “Let’s go.”
The two boys jogged towards the old soldier’s home. They were offered a great opportunity. An injured former soldier from King Saul’s army would teach them some basics of soldiering. Being from the tribe of Levi, Benaiah was expected to become a priest like his father, but it held no appeal to him. He wanted the thrill of fighting the enemies of Israel, the Philistines. They had been trying to take over their land and make the Israelites their servants for centuries.
A notable event occurred a few years ago that had everyone talking. A Philistine giant named Goliath challenged the army of Israel morning and evening for forty days. If he lost, it would mean the Israelites would become slaves to the Philistines. No one in the army would accept the challenge, not even King Saul himself, who was head and shoulders above most men. But then a young shepherd boy named David ben Jesse volunteered to fight. Everyone was surprised when King Saul approved it, since David wasn’t even a professional soldier. And then he actually won! He defeated the giant with a well-placed stone from his slingshot to Goliath’s forehead.
Benaiah and Mikhael would often re-enact the battle, each one wanting to be the hero, David. But because Benaiah was larger than Mikhael, he would often have to play Goliath. Now they would learn how to fight for real. But Simeon might cancel altogether if they couldn’t even be counted on to arrive on time. The boys picked up their pace.
“How’d you manage to sneak away?” Mikhael asked.
“I told my Ima I was coming to your house. It was true, even if it was just a stopping point. I was almost out the door when she told me to take Ammiz along. I was afraid he’d report back to her about what we really did, so I sent him on a side trip.”
“Good idea. I’m sure Simeon wouldn’t appreciate if we showed up with more people than he expected.”
Benaiah couldn’t reach his 13th birthday soon enough. Then he would be viewed as a man in his parents’ eyes, and he could make his own decisions without reporting to them all the time.
After an arduous trek up a slope on the outskirts of Kabzeel, in southern Judah, Benaiah and Mikhael arrived at the home of the old warrior. Mikhael knocked on the heavy wooden door and then glanced over at Benaiah and smiled. He looked as excited as Benaiah felt.
Several moments later, an elderly female servant answered. After learning their names, she led them into the front courtyard, which spanned the width of the four-room home. Then she disappeared into one of the two rooms to the right of the central hallway.
To their left, stone steps led from the courtyard to the flat roof, which typically functioned as outdoor living space for the family. Benaiah wondered if Simeon had a family. He didn’t see anyone or hear any voices. Perhaps that woman was his mother rather than a servant?
Suddenly, a massive man stood in front of them. Benaiah judged him to be at least forty since he had so much battle experience. He stroked his beard as he perused his new trainees.
Uncomfortable with the silent scrutiny, Benaiah cleared his throat. “Sir?” he squeaked out. Then he tried again and managed to say it in a less pathetic voice.
“When you arrive somewhere, you state your name and business,” Simeon bellowed.
The two boys straightened.
“Benaiah ben Jehoiada, reporting for training, sir.”
“Mikhael ben Kenan, reporting for training, sir.”
Benaiah glanced at Simeon as he paced back and forth in front of them.
“Keep your eyes front when speaking, trainees. You don’t ever have an eye-to-eye conversation with a superior officer.”
Benaiah affixed his gaze to a crack in the wall beyond Simeon as they answered, “Yes, sir!” in unison.
When Simeon stood directly in front of them, Benaiah could feel the heat of his glare on the top of his head.
“You’re late!” Simeon’s breath moved Benaiah’s hair.
He gulped. “That was my fault, sir. I had an errand to run for my Ima.” Benaiah hoped he wouldn’t ask if he had accomplished that mission.
The man paced in front of them, limping slightly. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his muscular chest strained his tunic. He nodded his approval. “Your parents are your top priority at this point. They are your commanding officers. For now.”
Benaiah didn’t share that he had delegated his errand to a lower-ranking soldier; his brother.
“Up to the rooftop,” Simeon shouted. “Go, go, go, go, go!”
As the boys scrambled up the stone staircase, Benaiah thought he caught a ghost of a smile on the old warrior’s face, even though he wasn’t supposed to be looking.
On the rooftop, they stood at attention. Like most rooftop living spaces, there was added seating, a table, an herb garden and plants. Simeon had a small fig tree in a large clay pot. They waited while Simeon slowly made his way up the steps. It sounded like he was taking a step and then following the first leg up with the second, like his little sister, Rizpah did because the steps were too tall for her. Benaiah wondered what had happened to him.
“Can we learn to fight with swords?” Mikhael dared to ask.
Simeon drew a sword out from behind the fig tree. “Like this?” He swished the thick, double edged sword in front of him effortlessly, as if it was a common kitchen utensil.
The boys nodded, wide eyed.
“No.”
Their shoulders slumped.
“Iron weapons like this are scarce in Israel because the Philistines have forbidden us from making them. They fear an uprising. We must go to them even to sharpen our tools, and then pay them for the privilege.” He sneered. “The only people with real swords are King Saul and his sons. And anyone who can take a sword from a defeated enemy.”
Benaiah imagined Simeon taking the sword in his hands from a fallen soldier. Perhaps that was when he acquired his limp. “Can we touch it?” Benaiah asked, even as he reached toward it.
Simeon withdrew the sword. “Not yet. A soldier needs to train his body first, then learn how to fight hand-to-hand, before attempting to wield a sword. Even then, he must always use his most powerful weapon: his mind.”
Benaiah’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t thought of that. He assumed physical strength was all that was required.
“A soldier has to anticipate his opponent’s next action and act quickly. He needs to know his enemy’s weaknesses and exploit them. He must be bold. There can be no hesitation.”
This man knew so much about warfare. How privileged they were to be here, learning from someone who knew what it was like to fight other real soldiers. Benaiah smiled inwardly.
This was the best day ever!
***
Ammiz stared at the neighborhood around him. Benaiah had told him to take the loaf of fig bread their mother had made to Benjamin and Orpah, their family friends. Ima had told Benaiah to do it, then insisted he take Ammiz along. But as soon as they neared Mikhael’s house, Benaiah had ordered Ammiz to complete the errand while he went to meet his friend.
Ammiz thought he knew where he was supposed to go. But since he had only gone to their home with his parents, he hadn’t paid much attention to the landmarks.
He hugged the warm fig loaf to his chest. The smell of the yeasty bread gave him some comfort, as if Ima was nearby.
As he wandered the hard packed dirt streets, trying to remember which door belonged to his parents’ friends, he froze at the familiar voice of his enemy behind him, mocking his stammer.
“Look everybody! It’s A-a-a-miza-b-b-bad!”
He turned to see Itamar and three other boys striding toward him. The passersby kept about their business, as if they didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
Before Ammiz could run away, Itamar was standing over him, blocking the newly risen sun, glaring down at him.
“What do you have for me there?”
Ammiz pulled the loaf closer to himself, in a futile attempt to preserve the gift. In an instant, Itamar tore it out of his arms and unwrapped it, tossing the striped blue and white cloth to the ground. He inhaled the aroma of the bread.
“Mmmmm. How did you know I was hungry?” Itamar laughed, then looked around at his friends, who also laughed.
Ammiz had no choice but to get through whatever humiliation they would heap on him, and then he would be safe. Until the next time.
Itamar tore off a section of the warm loaf and shoved it in his mouth. “Hey, this is good.” He shared the bread with his friends. “Did you make this yourself … with your Ima?” He spat out the last word.
“G-give it b-b-back,” Ammiz demanded quietly. “It’s not for you.”
But it was too late now. The loaf was almost gone.
He should go back home and tell Ima what had happened. But he knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he would claim he tripped and it fell onto the road. She would be angry with him at first, and he would have to accept her punishment. But at least he wouldn’t have to relive the shame of telling her he’d been teased about his stammer. Again.
This wouldn’t be happening if Benaiah had gone with him. There’s no way Itamar would be so bold if thierteen year old Benaiah was near. But even if Ammiz could get away and find his older brother, Benaiah wouldn’t be happy that he hadn’t completed his errand.
Itamar wiped the last crumbs from his lips. “Ah, that was good. Do you have anything else?”
Ammiz lunged to the right but Itamar’s arm flew out across his chest to stop him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Ammiz raised his arms to push back but Itamar grasped him by both shoulders. Ammiz looked beyond him to the other boys, hoping to find even one ally who would stand up to Itamar for him, but they all looked away.
“I have a project for you,” Itamar sneered.
“A p-p-project?”
“I want you to get me a pomegranate from the marketplace.”
“But I …. I don’t have any m-money.”
Itamar leaned closer to Ammiz and spoke slowly and deliberately. “I said get, not buy, you dummy!”
“I’m not going to steal for you!”
“Oh, yes, you are,” he hissed.
Ammiz considered his predicament. Perhaps he could go along with it, until he could run away or ask for help. He nodded imperceptibly.
Itamar released his shoulders. “That’s more like it. Now, let’s go. I’ll point out which market stall I want you to take it from. There’s a man I don’t like, who is always shooing me away like I’m an annoying fly.”
Itamar grabbed Ammiz’s arm and propelled him along the road. Ammiz tried to pull away, but Itamar’s grip was too strong.
***
As the two soldiers-in-training walked toward home in the waning sunset, they practiced some of the defensive moves Simeon had taught them. “I can’t wait to learn how to use one of Simeon’s clubs,” Benaiah said.
“I could barely lift that thing, let alone swing it,” Mikhael said as held an imaginary club over his head.
“I want to try to make one. Then I can practice at home.”
“You’d need to find some dense wood.”
Benaiah wondered where he could find some. He couldn’t very well ask his Abba for help. Jehoiada, a priest, was so different from Simeon. “I can’t imagine ever being as confident as he is. His presence just shouts, ‘I dare you.’”
Mikhael laughed. “I know! And I wouldn’t dare.”
By the time Benaiah arrived at home, his father was returning from his priestly duties. Jehoiada put an arm around his son and they entered the house together. Benaiah wished his Abba wouldn’t embrace him while the neighbors could see them. He wasn’t a child anymore.
“How was your day, Son?”
“Good.” Benaiah didn’t offer any details. His father wouldn’t understand his desire to be a soldier. He might even be angry with Benaiah for considering it. Five year old Rizpah ran into the courtyard to greet Jehoiada and Benaiah. Jehoiada scooped her up into his arms. “Abba, my doll went on a journey today. She went all the way to Gibeah to see king Saul.”
“Did she now? And did she get a glimpse of him?”
“Yes, and he was wearing a beautiful crown with colorful jewels. And the queen was there, and the little princes and princesses all said we could play with their toys. They have very nice toys.”
Benaiah tugged on her pigtails. “I’ll bet they do.”
Benaiah’s mother, Dinah looked up as they entered the eating room. “Where is Ammizabad?”
Benaiah’s eyes widened. “Isn’t he here?”
She rose to her feet, her needlework falling to the floor. “Of course not. He left with you this morning.” She advanced toward him.
Jehoiada turned to Benaiah. “What happened today, Son?”
Benaiah couldn’t imagine where Ammiz could have gone. It was a simple detour. “We were going to drop off the loaf for Benjamin and Orpah, like Ima asked us to, and then meet Mikhael at his house. But then …”
“But then what?” Dinah asked.
“Mikhael was waiting for me at his house, and I was late, so I told Ammiz to drop off the loaf instead.”
“You sent a little boy off alone?” she shrieked.
Little Rizpah’s wide eyes darted between Benaiah and their parents. Shua, their servant picked up baby Jael, who had started to cry, from her basket and tried to soothe her by bouncing her and patting her on her back.
“Their home wasn’t far away when we split up. And he was supposed to meet me at Mikhael’s house afterward.”
“And did he come there?” Jehoiada asked.
Benaiah hesitated. He lowered his gaze. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?” Color drained from Dinah’s face.
“We didn’t stay at Mikhael’s house.”
“Where did you go today?” Jehoiada spoke in measured tones.
Benaiah knew he’d be in trouble, but his brother was missing. He took a deep breath. “Mikhael and I went to Simeon’s house, to learn how to fight like soldiers.”
“Who is Simeon?” Jehoiada asked.
“A soldier.”
Mother sank onto the bench. “I told you to look after him!”
If Ammizabad was hurt, or worse, it would be Benaiah’s fault. He hadn’t thought about his brother once the whole time he was playing soldier.
Jehoiada reached for an oil lamp as he looked to their servant. “Shua, stay with the girls. Dinah, come with me. We’ll check the path between here and Benjamin’s house, and then between there and Mikhael’s house. Benaiah, take a torch. It’ll be dark soon. Search wherever else you think he may have gone. And may Yahweh help us to find him unharmed.”

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