In their family’s courtyard, six-year-old David watched his older brother, fascinated. Eliab strung the lamb for his wedding feast to an overhead beam by its hind legs and slit its throat. Blood splashed into a bowl at his feet. The lamb’s struggles ceased. His brother sliced the belly, pulling the guts onto the ground where he separated the small intestine with a flick of his knife. “Clean it.” Suppressing a twinge of revulsion, David gathered the guts in his hands. They wriggled. He dropped them into the leather bucket of water. “Not like that, stupid. Squeeze them out first. Like this.” Eliab stripped the fresh tubes with his fingers, until they were empty, then tossed them into the bucket. “Now wash them.” The sickly stench filled David’s throat. He stirred until the water turned cloudy brown. “What do I do now?” “Take them to Berekiah on Etam Street.” Proud to be given a job by his brother, David tried to lift the bucket. “It’s too heavy.” Now skinning the carcass, Eliab ignored him. David strained out the water between his fingers, picked up the pail of intestines, and marched out the gate. Now where? David sang, “Which way to Etam Street? Which way to Etam Street?” People laughed and pointed. He followed their fingers across town. “Which way to Berekiah?” he sang and stopped. He could hear heaven. Liquid notes filled the air, rising and falling like the wind. His mission forgotten, he trotted towards the music and stood gazing at a large house. An older man with a bald head came out of the door. “Don’t just stand there, boy, come in, come in. Have you got my tubes? Excellent. You must be Jesse’s youngest. David, is it? I am Berekiah Ben-Shimea.” It sounded like a rhyme. David stared. “What’s that music?” He passed the bucket. “Asaph is playing the kinnor. Do you want to listen?” David nodded. He followed Berekiah inside. A young boy sat on the floor with a large, wooden frame in his lap. A bit older than David, Asaph had black hair and a thin face. When he touched the strings, they sounded like a thousand bells. Seeing David, Asaph finished his tune and stopped. “That’s beautiful,” David said. Asaph smiled. “My Abba made this one. We turn the guts you brought into these strings.” “Is it easy to play?” “You have to practice. Do you want to try?” David nodded again. Asaph patted the floor beside him, and David sat. Asaph settled the kinnor into David’s lap. It stretched above his head. “You pluck these strings with this hand, and those with your other hand.” David touched a string and it sang. Shivers ran down his spine. He touched another and grinned. He tried two strings together. They seemed to argue. He tried two more and laughed. “Would you like to learn? Abba could teach you. He’s a musician.” Entranced, David plucked the lyre again, until suddenly he found a rhythm, as though the instrument played itself. Notes fell from the strings in cascades. Something deep within him stirred—something he’d never known, something of God. Holy. Berekiah stood in the doorway, holding the empty bucket. “You must have played before.” David shook his head. Berekiah stared at him for so long, David flushed. “Then you have a gift from God. No one plays like that the first time. It would be an honour to teach you.” David felt tears in eyes. “Thank you, sir, I would love to learn.” “Come to my house when you can. I am always here, unless there’s a wedding or funeral.” *** Whenever he could escape David ran across town to Asaph’s house, where they would sit and practice together. Each time he’d sit and wait for the music to play itself as it did the first time, but it never did. He learned and practiced and learned and practiced, until his fingers grew sore. “No, David,” Berekiah said, “you’re picking like you are trying to shed your fingernails.” “It’s hard, master.” Berekiah took the instrument. “Like this.” He played a short melody. The notes seemed to weep. “Music is emotion. We play to express moods we cannot share any other way. What do you want to say today?” “I want. . . to thank you for teaching me.” “Good. Then play a thanksgiving.” He returned the kinnor. Thank you, Lord, for my music master. David touched the strings, and his fingers moved—gently at first, then with more confidence, until the music faded. He shivered. Nothing could match what he had just felt. He looked up. Grinning, Asaph hugged him. Berekiah brushed a tear from his face. “Extraordinary.”