Jeremiah didn't know exactly when they began to hate him enough towish for his
death.
Perhaps it was always there, hidden beneath kind words and forced smiles.
Perhaps the hatred grew slowly, fueled by the fear, shame, and threat her voice
represented. The truth was, now she could feel it.
The atmosphere in Anatot had changed.
It wasn't visible, but it was real. An invisible weight that seeped into every
greeting.feigned, in every averted glance, in every conversation that paused when
Jeremiah appeared. The people who had seen him grow up no longer saw him as a
son… but as
danger.
That morning, Jeremiah left home early. He needed to be alone. He walkedThey
headed towards the fields, away from prying ears and quick tongues. The sky was
covered with gray clouds, and the wind blew insistently, raising dust from the
road.
As he walked on, an uneasy feeling settled in his chest. He wasn't
alone.He stopped and looked back. The path was empty. He continued walking,
but the feeling didn't go away. Every rustle of leaves, every step of his own,
soundedtoo strong.
"It's just fear," he told himself.
"Nothing more." But fear didn't talk
like that.
Later that day, in a house away from the center of town, several menThey met in
secret. The door was closed. The voices were low.
"This can't go on," one of them said. "Jerusalem is already asking about us."
"They look at us like we're accomplices," another replied. "It's all that boy's fault."
"He's not just a boy," a third person interjected. "He's Hilkiah's son. His words carry
more weight than you realize."
There was a tense silence.
—Then —said the first one—, we have to shut him
up.The phrase landed like a stone.
"Shut him up?" one of them repeated. "How?"
—Forever.
Nobody
protested.
That same afternoon, Jeremiah ran into an old acquaintance, someone he had
trusted since childhood. They talked about simple, trivial things. But something in
his gazeIt troubled the prophet.
"Be careful," the man said, almost in a whisper, before leaving. "Not everyone has
your best interests at heart."
Jeremiah watched him walk away, his heart
racing.That night, sleep did not come.
He got up several times, walked around the house, listened to the sounds outside.
Everything.It seemed normal. Too normal.
"Am I imagining things?" he wondered.Then, like a whisper that passed through his mind, came the
revelation.It was not a clear vision, but a sudden, icy realization.
They're after your life.
Jeremiah sat down suddenly.
"Who?" he asked in a low voice.
The answer came with unexpected pain:
The men of Anathoth. Yours.
The blow was devastating.
"No…" she whispered. "Not them."
But deep down, I knew it was true.
The next morning, Jeremiah's fears were confirmed.
As he walked near the well, he overheard fragments of a conversation that stopped
abruptly when he saw it. They weren't vague rumors. They were hard stares.
Determined faces.
"If he keeps talking," someone said, "his blood will fall on
him." Jeremiah felt like the world was stopping.
She didn't scream. She didn't run away. She walked slowly back home, her legs heavy
and...My heart was pounding. Every familiar face now seemed like a potential
threat.
When he closed the door behind him, he leaned against it, breathing heavily.
"They want to kill me..." he whispered.
For the first time since his call, the fear was absolute.It
wasn't fear of rejection.
It wasn't fear of
loneliness.It was fear of
death.
He collapsed to the ground and spoke to God like never before.
"Is this how it all ends?" he asked. "After such a short time?"Tears flowed uncontrollably.
"I trusted. I obeyed. I spoke. And now
this?" Her voice broke.
—You seduced me… and I was seduced. You deceived me… and you prevailed.
There was anger in his words. Pain. Confusion.
"Look how they're treating me!" she cried. "Listen to their plans. They say,
'Let's not prophesy in the name of the Lord, or you will die.'"
The silence was filled with
tension.Then, something
changed.
It wasn't a promise of immediate escape. It was a firm, profound statement.
I am with you to free you.
Jeremiah closed his eyes.
"I trust you," she said, though her voice still trembled. "But I'm
afraid."The fear didn't disappear. But it stopped controlling him.
That afternoon, a man approached Hilcías's house. He had a pale face.
"You must leave," she told Jeremiah as soon as she saw him. "Tonight... is not safe."
"What do you know?" Jeremiah
asked. The man hesitated.
—There are plans. Don't ask any more questions.
Jeremiah looked at his father, who had heard everything. Hilkiah closed his eyes,
understanding.
—Go —he said—. For now.
Jeremiah took few things. He didn't know how long he would be gone. Perhaps he
would never return.
Before leaving, he looked around the place where he had grown up. Every corner held
memories.Now, also danger."Forgive them," she whispered. "They don't know what they're doing."
As he left Anatot, the sky began to darken. He walked quickly, without
looking.Back. Every step was a goodbye.
Behind him, in the darkness, some men were watching… too late.
And as Jeremiah walked away, he understood something that would mark his ministry
forever:
The most dangerous
enemy doesn't always
come from far away.
Sometimes it's born at
home.