Serim of Moab

Serim looked down at the army below. Israelites! Thousands of Israelites. And now they had driven them all the way back here to Kir Hareseth. And now…

How had this upstart nation come to be so powerful? How had they invaded their country? Where did their strength come from?

As the priests prepared the altar beside him he thought of all that had passed. How was it possible? All they had tried, every tactic of his fathers had not stopped that Hebrew affiliation. His father, the great King Mesha, for years had been servant to the king of Israel and had delivered much sheep and wool in tribute. But with the death of King Ahab, Moab had revolted.

Then they had come. Through the wilderness of Edom came Jehoram, King of Israel and the King of Edom. And what was more which they did not expect, the King of Judah came with them. Jehoshaphat had a reputation for having a powerful God on his side and the Moabites were fearful of that. But one morning they looked over the army’s encampment and saw they field red with blood. With a shout of triumph the Moabites marched out against them. The three kings had had a disagreement and killed each other and all they had to do was march out for the spoil. But it was a trick, a cruel trick and it was the beginning of the Hebrews marvelous victory that would not be stopped. They had ravaged Moab, destroying the fields, the cities, the vineyards, the houses, cutting down every good tree and filling up every good well, spreading death and destruction in their wake. And now…

His father had raged and roared. He called together seven hundred armed men to try and kill even the King of Edom but he failed. Then he had called together the council of priests and asked what was to be done. As the Israelites drew closer they decided they must do something drastic, they must make a heroic sacrifice to the god Chemosh.

Serim had not been present at that council but he was present when the guards rushed into his room and took him prisoner. And here he was now, on the wall of Kir Hareseth, looking over the army marching ever closer. He did not want to be here, this was no willing sacrifice. He didn’t even believe Chemosh could save them. The God of Israel, the God of Jehoshaphat, that was a god to be feared.

Bitterly he twisted his hands behind him but the ropes held fast. If the army would arrive he could at least die honorably. But there was no hope of that. The priests were almost ready. Serim looked at his father angrily but the king was unrelenting. But I am the eldest son. He thought, why couldn’t they have chosen another sacrifice? One of his brothers would have done just as well. He should have been king next in Moab. But instead he was to die on the wall of Kir Hareseth, a sacrifice, a burnt offering to a god who was helpless, his father’s god, Chemosh.

The Israelite army came closer. Serim could make out the three kings as they rode in their chariots. And that other man, who stood in the distance, that must be Elisha the son of Shephat, who was said to be a great prophet of God. One man said he had told Jehoshaphat he would win this battle and that their God provided them water in the desert through a miracle. No wonder then that they were victorious if that prophet traveled with them.

But the priests were ready now. Seizing Serim they threw him on the alter they had prepared on top of the wall. In the midst of their rites Serim saw one raise a knife. Looking past the blade he saw the sky scattered with clouds. It was a bright sunny day and he was to loose his life. If there was a God in heaven, a true God, maybe he would show pity to a helpless soul, the eldest son of a king who had betrayed him.

But that thought was his last. The priest’s knife descended and Serim of Moab was no more.