The silver merchant was his last hope. “Sell it to your precious Jehovah, Zealot,” the man sneered without looking up from his scales. “You’ll get no help from me. It’s nothing but trash anyway.” It was the same disdain he’d faced all day, and the funds he’d counted on for his journey to Samaria were lost.
As other shops began to close, Elijah marched to the center of the square, took a deep breath, and yelled, “My entire inventory for one-tenth of its value.”
He looked down at his sandals. The soles had worn nearly through. They might survive another mile or two, but not the road to Samaria. He bellowed again, his voice cracking with desperation, “My inventory for a pair of sandals!” This time, the work stopped. Laughter echoed across the square, loud and mocking. Elijah’s chin lifted. “I am glad to be your entertainment,” he called out, his voice ringing with a strange fire. “But I am not joking. The first person to bring me a sturdy pair of sandals will have everything in my store.”
Elijah felt someone tap him on the shoulder. “Will these do?” He turned to see an older man holding up a pair of sandals for his inspection. Elijah took them, tugged at the straps, and checked the soles for wear. Finally, he put them on and tested them by walking around in circles. “What is your name, sir?”
“I am Benjamin of Gilead.” Elijah smiled. “And I am Elijah. Gilead? You’re a Tishbite! Did you know...” Benjamin wrinkled his brow and raised a hand to interrupt. “I was born there; that is all. We left for Bethel a week later. I should stop saying it. “A man’s reputation is his trade, and Gilead has no trade to speak of.” “A birthplace is nothing to be ashamed of,” Elijah said. “In any event, I’m glad a countryman will benefit from my leap into poverty, and not one of these snakes.”
Elijah looked down at his new sandals. “These will do nicely.” He reached into his cloak and pulled out a parchment. “This gives you everything I have, Benjamin. But I have something to tell you that is even more valuable.” Benjamin’s eyes narrowed. “First, tell me why a man would trade all that he has for a pair of used sandals.” Elijah looked back at his shop, where he had struggled for so many years.
“I have something very important to do.”
“God’s will, right?”
Elijah snapped to attention. “How did you—
"Relax. I'm no prophet." He tucked the parchment away. "People don't trade a business for used sandals unless God told them to or they're mad. I'm betting on mad. And don’t get any ideas about changing your mind either. Generosity was never one of my skill sets."
Elijah grinned. “Me neither. Never had enough money. Don’t worry. I won’t be coming back any time soon. But I do have some good advice that you would do well to take, whether I’m crazy or not. Sell this shop and everything you cannot carry. Pack up your entire family, your brothers, your sisters, your wives, all of them, and go to Egypt while you still can.”
Benjamin just stared at him for a few moments before breaking into uncontrolled laughter. “And I am supposed to take this advice from someone who traded everything they had for a pair of sandals? No, used sandals! You may be crazy, but I’m not.” Benjamin's laughter faded. His smile lingered for another second before collapsing. He looked away, his gaze fixed on nothing.
“You spoke of family,” he said, his voice suddenly hollow. He swiped at the corner of his eye. “I have none. Listen. I’ll be by tomorrow to take it over. Please have all of your personal stuff gone by then. I’ve got to go.”
Watching the man’s slumped shoulders, Elijah saw a loneliness that mirrored his own. He called out, “I don’t have much of a family myself.” Benjamin stopped and sighed, a sound of profound weariness. He turned, his head cocked and arms folded. After a long moment, he shrugged. “I’ll give you one minute.”
Elijah grew very serious. He fixed his gaze on the old man, placed his hands on his shoulders, and whispered, “This land will soon be under a terrible curse. Many will die, young and old. Many more will suffer in terrible agony and pray for death. These fat merchants, you among them if you choose to stay, will soon find themselves bankrupt and fighting for their lives. No one will be able to escape unharmed, not even the kings themselves.” Something in Elijah’s tone made Benjamin’s hands go still at his sides, as though the words had settled into him like stones into water. He tried to look away from Elijah but could not.
“And who will be responsible for this?” he asked.
Elijah’s hardened expression finally broke. His face crumbled, his lips trembling as tears cut clean paths through the dust on his cheeks. “God help me,” he whispered. “I will.”