as well as the king’s palace, the Temple of Baal, and the smaller shrine of Asherah.
Sala had felt an almost visceral repugnance when he first gazed upon the temples dedicated to the false Canaanite gods. However, after his initial revulsion, Sala could not help but be curious to see what the inside of these infamous temples might look like.
He had to admit that the Temple of Baal was an impressive building, with an open court set apart from the street by a stone wall. Inside the court, visitors could see an altar that was clearly used for animal sacrifice and also a tall, narrow standing stone upon whose flat surface was engraved the picture of a more than life-size warrior armed with a lightning spear and a thunderbolt.
Sala stared in both fascination and horror at the picture. He had never before seen a man-made image of a human. Elohim forbade graven images. His people could sing of His mighty deeds—the creation of the world, of man and animals and plants and all living things—but full knowledge of Elohim lay far beyond the capacity of man to comprehend. It would be impossible to show any kind of representation of the God who had created man and the world man lived in.
But this work was so finely done, so harmonious, so pleasing to the eye—
Abruptly Sala realized what blasphemy he was thinking and quickly turned his back on the stone.
“It’s probably supposed to be a portrait of Baal,” Lord Nahshon said with deep disgust. “I hate to think of what kind of orgies go on during the celebrations they have in this place.”
It was well known to all Israelites that the Canaanite religion allowed—even encouraged—sexual excesses. This was the unfortunate reason so many Israelite men fell under the spell of Baal and the Canaanite women who worshipped him. It had been a centuries-long struggle for the Israelites to keep the people of Abraham constant in this land of seduction and temptation.
Asherah’s Shrine was much smaller than Baal’s, and in its front courtyard Sala saw several young women with long, loose hair who were dressed in flowing white linen tunics. They were playing on stringed instruments and watching the crowds pass by.
“Are they priestesses, do you think?” Sala asked his father. He had heard some astonishing things about the priestesses of Asherah.
A well-dressed Canaanite man who was passing them heard Sala’s question and stopped. He cast his eyes over their expensive linen tunics and said, “Pardon me, but are you new to Jericho? I do not remember ever seeing you before.”
Lord Nahshon said, “Yes. We are merchants from Gaza and this is our first visit to your beautiful city.”
Sala thought the man was about his father’s age, with gray in his beard and his thinning hair. There was an arrogance about him Sala did not like.
The man said, “Gaza? I see. That must account for your accent. Gaza is such a mix of races and tribes. One hardly knows what its real culture is.”
The man’s arrogance spilled over into contempt when he said Gaza . Sala was liking him less with every word he spoke.
Lord Nahshon, however, remained affable. “I can assure you we are good Canaanite people. That is why my son and I have come to Jericho, a good Canaanite city. I own a shipping business and I’m always looking for new customers. I have heard the farms around Jericho produce bountiful harvests, so we decided to come here to see if any of your people might be interested in enlarging their markets. We ship into Egypt primarily, but we go to all the other kingdoms around the Great Sea as well.”
Suddenly the Jericho man looked interested. “A shipping merchant? Hmmm .” His sharp eyes went from Lord Nahshon to Sala, then back to Lord Nahshon. “The farms of Jericho usually sell most of their produce directly into the city, but you are right when you say our harvests are usually plentiful.” He tapped his finger against his chin. “What are your names?”
Sala’s father gave
Sala had felt an almost visceral repugnance when he first gazed upon the temples dedicated to the false Canaanite gods. However, after his initial revulsion, Sala could not help but be curious to see what the inside of these infamous temples might look like.
He had to admit that the Temple of Baal was an impressive building, with an open court set apart from the street by a stone wall. Inside the court, visitors could see an altar that was clearly used for animal sacrifice and also a tall, narrow standing stone upon whose flat surface was engraved the picture of a more than life-size warrior armed with a lightning spear and a thunderbolt.
Sala stared in both fascination and horror at the picture. He had never before seen a man-made image of a human. Elohim forbade graven images. His people could sing of His mighty deeds—the creation of the world, of man and animals and plants and all living things—but full knowledge of Elohim lay far beyond the capacity of man to comprehend. It would be impossible to show any kind of representation of the God who had created man and the world man lived in.
But this work was so finely done, so harmonious, so pleasing to the eye—
Abruptly Sala realized what blasphemy he was thinking and quickly turned his back on the stone.
“It’s probably supposed to be a portrait of Baal,” Lord Nahshon said with deep disgust. “I hate to think of what kind of orgies go on during the celebrations they have in this place.”
It was well known to all Israelites that the Canaanite religion allowed—even encouraged—sexual excesses. This was the unfortunate reason so many Israelite men fell under the spell of Baal and the Canaanite women who worshipped him. It had been a centuries-long struggle for the Israelites to keep the people of Abraham constant in this land of seduction and temptation.
Asherah’s Shrine was much smaller than Baal’s, and in its front courtyard Sala saw several young women with long, loose hair who were dressed in flowing white linen tunics. They were playing on stringed instruments and watching the crowds pass by.
“Are they priestesses, do you think?” Sala asked his father. He had heard some astonishing things about the priestesses of Asherah.
A well-dressed Canaanite man who was passing them heard Sala’s question and stopped. He cast his eyes over their expensive linen tunics and said, “Pardon me, but are you new to Jericho? I do not remember ever seeing you before.”
Lord Nahshon said, “Yes. We are merchants from Gaza and this is our first visit to your beautiful city.”
Sala thought the man was about his father’s age, with gray in his beard and his thinning hair. There was an arrogance about him Sala did not like.
The man said, “Gaza? I see. That must account for your accent. Gaza is such a mix of races and tribes. One hardly knows what its real culture is.”
The man’s arrogance spilled over into contempt when he said Gaza . Sala was liking him less with every word he spoke.
Lord Nahshon, however, remained affable. “I can assure you we are good Canaanite people. That is why my son and I have come to Jericho, a good Canaanite city. I own a shipping business and I’m always looking for new customers. I have heard the farms around Jericho produce bountiful harvests, so we decided to come here to see if any of your people might be interested in enlarging their markets. We ship into Egypt primarily, but we go to all the other kingdoms around the Great Sea as well.”
Suddenly the Jericho man looked interested. “A shipping merchant? Hmmm .” His sharp eyes went from Lord Nahshon to Sala, then back to Lord Nahshon. “The farms of Jericho usually sell most of their produce directly into the city, but you are right when you say our harvests are usually plentiful.” He tapped his finger against his chin. “What are your names?”
Sala’s father gave
Similar Books
