Stories of the Prophets (Before the Exile) by Isaac Landman
Stories of the Prophets (Before the Exile) by Isaac Landman
An End to War.
"Damascus has fallen!
Damascus has fallen!!"
The whole city of Samaria rang with the glad tidings. Fleet-footed runners, who had started with this precious news on the day of victory, covered more than one hundred and fifty miles to bring it to the capital of the Kingdom of Israel.
They crossed mountains and swam rivers, fairly flew over fertile plains and through busy cities, shouting, while there was breath in their bodies:
"Damascus has fallen!"
Many of the messengers fell exhausted on the way, but others took up the wonderful news from the front and carried it on, until the whole northern part of the kingdom knew of the king's victory.
Little by little the whole story was told to the eager Samarians-how the king, Jeroboam II, himself led the hosts of Israel; how attack followed attack upon the fortified Syrian capital; how the first breach was made in the outer wall; how the valiant Israelites rushed upon the enemy, and how the final victory was won for Israel's standard.
What a celebration was there in Samaria that long-to-be-remembered day!
Not since the days when the first Jeroboam led the rebellion of the ten tribes against King Solomon's weak son, Rehoboam, and established the independent kingdom of the Ten Tribes, with Samaria as the capital, was there such rejoicing in that city.
We can picture the celebration in our mind's eye; we cannot describe it in words.
Parents who had sent their sons to the war now laughed happily through their tears, because there would be an end to war.
Sisters whose brothers doubtless lay dead in and about the walls of the doomed city, now sang songs of joy in the midst of their weeping, because there would be an end to war.
The strongest and finest men of Israel had given their lives for their country, but now, thank God! there would be an end to war.
The fall of Damascus meant the end of a hundred and fifty years' war, commenced by Ben-hadad I, of Syria, against Israel, long before Jeroboam's great-grandfather established the dynasty of Jehu on the throne of Israel.
It meant even more than that; it meant the end of Syrian oppression, and, perhaps, a period of peace to the long-troubled and war-ridden kingdom of Israel.
No wonder, then, that there were feasts of rejoicing and full-throated cries:
"Damascus has fallen! Long live King Jeroboam!"
"Damascus has fallen! Long life to the house of Jehu!"
All day and all night Samaria swarmed with people. The streets were
thronged with shouting men and women who had come from Geba and
Dothan, and even from Jezreel on the north, and from Schechem and
Shiloh and Bethel on the south, to help celebrate the great victory.
Sacrifices were brought at all the sanctuaries of Israel-in Bethel, in Dan, in Gilgal, in Beersheba.
Priests and people brought thank-offerings, and, together, sang praises to God:
"God is my light and my salvation,
Whom shall I fear?
God is the strength of my life,
Of whom shall I be afraid?"
Truly, God was on the side of Israel, or else the Syrians could not have been defeated. He was showing favor to the Northern Kingdom, and was pleased with Israel, for was not Judah, the Southern Kingdom, too, paying tribute to Jeroboam?
And so they recalled how Joash, the father of the great Jeroboam II, defeated Amaziah, king of Judah, took him captive, partially demolished the walls of Jerusalem, and looted the Temple in Jerusalem.
The older men of Samaria remembered the fine sarcasm with which Joash treated Amaziah's challenge to war, in his reply:
"The thistle that was in Lebanon sent to the cedar that was in Lebanon, saying, 'Give thy daughter to my son to wife,' and there passed by a wild beast that was in Lebanon, and trod down the thistle."
How young and old laughed at the repetition of this clever little story that compared Israel to a cedar in its strength and to a wild beast in its fighting power, and Judah to a poor, little thistle to be tramped upon!
Jeroboam II was indeed a son of his father. Joash humbled Judah, Israel's enemy on the south; Jeroboam humbled Syria, Israel's enemy on the north.
Not satisfied with the fall of Damascus, however, Jeroboam pushed right ahead and captured Lodebar and Karnaim, which he turned over to Assur-dan, king of Assyria.
The fact is that Jeroboam had to do this. It was his end of a bargain made with Assur-dan. It was agreed between the two that the Assyrians would keep their hands off during the war between Israel and Syria.
As a reward for Assur-dan's non-interference, Jeroboam undertook to capture these two cities and turn them over to the Syrians to become part of his empire.
Having fulfilled his agreement, Jeroboam continued his victorious march further north, and never stopped until he had laid low the pride of Hamath, the prosperous city on the river Orontes.
Jeroboam II, thus had the great distinction of restoring the boundaries of the Kingdom of Israel to the proportions of the empire of David and Solomon, "from the entrance of Hamath unto the sea of Arabah," which is the Dead Sea.
Wonderful was the reception prepared for the king and his victorious army on their return to Samaria. More people had come to the city to join in the welcoming demonstration than had pilgrimed to Jerusalem on the Passover, in the days before the division of the kingdom.
The northern walls were massed with people, and the gates were decorated with flowers. Priests and elders, dressed in spotless white and led by the high priest, Amaziah, himself, awaited Jeroboam and his generals just outside of the city and preceded them to the gates. Such an acclamation of joy as greeted the king upon his entrance through the gates had never been heard in Samaria.
Passing through a triumphal arch of stone and marble, the procession was met by hundreds of maidens and children, clothed in linen and gold, who led the way, singing and strewing flowers in the path of the heroes.
A turn in the street led to the market-place. Here had been built a great triumphal arch of ivory and gold, beyond which was an altar, specially erected for the occasion.
Passing through the arch, Amaziah and Jeroboam mounted the steps that led to the altar. All the rest remained below. When the priest and the king faced the people the singing and the shouting ceased. With due ceremony, and according to the rites, the king brought a thanks-offering to God for his victories and his safe return. When Amaziah placed the sacrifice upon the altar a deep hush fell over the great assembly.
Slowly the smoke of the sacrifice rose to heaven, and the multitude of people, like one man, fell on their knees and worshiped.
Jeroboam was deeply moved. Solemnly he raised his right hand, and, from the depths of his grateful heart, he said:
"Peace to the house of Israel!"
Like the rumble of a mighty wave rolling toward the shore came the response from the sea of worshiping people:
"To the house of Israel, peace!"
For one whole week after Jeroboam's triumphant entry into the capital, Samaria was a place of feasting and rejoicing. When, by command of the king, the celebration came to an end and the people began to return to their homes, each one, on leaving the city's gates, repeated to himself the now answered prayer of over a century:
"Peace to the house of Israel!
To the house of Israel, peace!"
Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.
Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town's richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. "Way to go, honey!"
Katherine endured mistreatment for three years as Julian's wife, sacrificing everything for love. But when his sister drugged her and sent her to a client's bed, Katherine finally snapped. She left behind divorce papers, walking away from the toxic marriage. Years later, Katherine returned as a radiant star with the world at her feet. When Julian saw her again, he couldn't ignore the uncanny resemblance between her new love and himself. He had been nothing but a stand-in for someone else. Desperate to make sense of the past, Julian pressed Katherine, asking, "Did I mean nothing to you?"
She came to survive. He was born to rule. Fate made them mates. And that's where the nightmare began. Evangeline has spent her whole life on the edge, unwanted, unclaimed, and surviving in the shadows of Crescent Moon Pack. A omega by blood and an outcast by choice, she's learned to keep her head down and her scars hidden. But when her dying uncle asks her to enroll at Blackclaw Academy, a school built on bloodlines, brutality, and unforgiving rules..... she agrees. For him, not for herself. She expected whispers. Glares. Even cruelty. What she didn't expect was Ronan Nightbane. The future Alpha. Cold. Untouchable. Worshipped. Feared. And the one the Moon Goddess bound her soul to. Being his mate should've meant protection. Belonging. Destiny. But Ronan wants none of it. He rejects her in front of the entire academy. Mocks her. Marks her as nothing more than a mistake. A threat. A girl born of nothing, who means even less. But Evangeline? She doesn't break. Not for him. Not for anyone. Because the power buried inside her was never meant to be found. The truth behind her blood could burn the entire pack system to the ground. And Ronan, no matter how hard he fights it.... can't stay away. Their bond is poisonous. Addictive. Dangerous. And when war creeps closer and secrets claw their way into the light, he'll have to make a brutal choice: Reject her... or ruin them both.
Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it all-from standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didn't return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachel's terminal illness and realized she didn't have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."
For three years, Cathryn and her husband Liam lived in a sexless marriage. She believed Liam buried himself in work for their future. But on the day her mother died, she learned the truth: he had been cheating with her stepsister since their wedding night. She dropped every hope and filed for divorce. Sneers followed-she'd crawl back, they said. Instead, they saw Liam on his knees in the rain. When a reporter asked about a reunion, she shrugged. "He has no self-respect, just clings to people who don't love him." A powerful tycoon wrapped an arm around her. "Anyone coveting my wife answers to me."
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