It had been 70 years that the nation had been uprooted and deported to a foreign land by an enemy nation. We really don’t have a mental and emotional paradigm for what that is like. Perhaps the closest is the refugees who had to flee for their life in recent times.
But now it was time to come home. The Persian King Cyrus had declared and God was blessing it. Ultimately there were 42,360 that returned. And it wasn’t a return to a glorious city, but a city and the surrounding villages that needed to be rebuilt. Fields that needed to be resurrected. And houses and towns and commerce that needed restored. In many ways it was re-pioneering.
It was joyous and it was a reality-check. Some of the town populations had dwindled to two digits. Some of the priests had lost their records verifying their Levitic ancestry so they and all their future line were no longer allowed to serve as priests. That and their goods were small. They had 1 horse per 57 people, which was their equivalent form of transportation. They had 1 mule for every 173 people which was their equivalent form of labor force. They had 1 camel for every 97 people which were import/export vehicles and 1 donkey for every 6 people.
It was glorious times. It was challenging times.
But it was home.
It’s better to be free and be at home with little, than to be captive and have everything.
