"They devoted the city to the Lord and destroyed with the sword every living thing in it – men and women, young and old, cattle, sheep and donkeys."

Joshua 6: 21. NIV.

When He Was Breathless

I stared expressionless at the death form of my child. Young he was, for five years had not passed since I weaned him. Oh how lovely he was! His black and soft hair, his tiny lips, his fair skin, his small hands, which was grasping mine tight. He was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Even now, when he was breathless.

My sorrow was beyond tears. I had been late to save him from the hands of our adversaries. But late or not, his fate would remain the same. The Israelites slew every living thing in our city without mercy. Without mercy, for it was forbidden by their God. This city was not worthy of it. We did not worthy for mercy. My baby was not worthy for mercy. But Rahab, the traitor, had won it. She and everyone in her house were granted safety and security.

She had warned me before; that these newly come people would win, for the Lord was with them. She had asked me to hide in her house, but I refused. Not that I didn't believe her, everyone here knew what was to come. The gate was shut and no one came in or out while they were camping outside. Everyone felt the doom was drawing near, including me. I just didn't want to forsake my people, my land, my family.

And my foolish heroic act killed my son, my only child. My baby!

I embraced him tight, not willing to let go. I wanted to share the heat of my body to him, though I knew it was useless. He was dead. All my family had been dead. My mother, my father, my brothers, my sisters, my husband. I would soon follow them.

I smiled bitterly at the realization. I had no fear. What was it to fear of death now that I lost everything? I looked above and saw a young Israelite, barely above twenty, with a sword in his hand. His clothes, sword, and hands, everything of him was smeared by blood. I wondered whose blood was that. He looked at me, afraid, nervous, guilty. He grasped his sword so tight his knuckles were whitened. He swung it, but stopped in mid air.

"Why wait? Do what you must do," I spoke to him gently. Strangely, I did not hate him, nor begrudge him. Perhaps I realized they did not have choice; it was but order from their Lord. Perhaps I was too mournful to be enraged.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the blow that would end my life. But it did not come. I opened my eyes and saw him trembling. His eyes filled with tears and the sword was shaking in his hands.

"I have never… I have never killed human being before. I only kill animals," tears flowing down his cheeks. His eyes contained deep confusion of what he must do to me now. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"If you do not slay me now, you will commit sin to your people and to your God," I spoke to him again. "You will not accounted guilty under the Law for you only do what you must." I was startled at my own words. Were they my own? Or was it a warning sent to him by God through my lips?

He froze for a second, contemplating my words, and laughed. "Not accounted guilty." He laughed hard, an insane laughter full of acrimony. I looked at him bewildered.

"Physical punishment I will not bear. Yet, I will stain my hand with blood, an uncleansable stain. It will linger on my mind, on my heart, and continue to exist through my offspring. Horrific awareness that I have ended the life of my fellow human being. Shall I live through such woe? Nay!"

"But you must choose!" I spoke again indignantly. It was horrible enough to wait for death to come, but this youngster prolonged it. I did not care for him, my fate was miserable enough; I only wanted everything to end quick and painless.

He still stood there unmoving. I ignored him and turned to my lifeless child. I caressed his soft hair and kissed his temple. I missed him already, his laughter, his naughtiness, his voice. Would I see him again once I died? Maybe he would be, which I pray fervently to happen, separated from me and placed into a better place. But if he shared the same doom with me, I promised I would protect him always. I would never let him suffer. Never.

If I could.

I sighed and turned to the youngster. His eyes were darkened with determination. So he had decided, I thought. I closed my eyes once again, waiting for the blow that was certain to come. The sword struck my heart, sending unexpected wave of pain through my body. I opened my eyes and looked at my murderer. His eyes were filled with unutterable terror. He stared at me, seeing life slowly diminished from my body, then at the red stain on his hands, my blood. He knelt beside me and sobbed uncontrollably, "Forgive me. Forgive me."

I smiled to him weakly. Gathering all strength that was left in me I met his eyes and made my last plea, "Pray for my child, and for me."