At least there is hope for a tree: If it is cut down, it will sprout again, and its new shoots will not fail. Its roots may grow old in the ground and its stump die in the soil, yet at the scent of water it will bud and put forth shoots like a plant. —Job 14:7-9, NIV
Not that everyone was poor, though. Some were well-off and actually held important positions of power in the empire. Some were scientists. Some were advisers. Even some were lodged as concubines in the king's own harem! They had fruitful vines and shallow suns, enough to become kings and queens back in Judah. But for a moment, they forgot about Ephraim and Manasseh; about the parting seas and rocky waters, about the sun of battle and the quest for justice.
For some, life was is they never left at all. Their kids knew Hebrew and Greek and Persian. They could make their little tabernacles and wave their own sacrifices on the holy days. They were still circumcised, although some wanted their foreskins back in order to mingle with the locals. Stories about Jerusalem were a far and distant fantasy as Gilgamesh and Troy. Being who they were was a heritage, but it was time to change.
That is, until Cyrus allowed them to return. For those who survived captivity, this was a dream come true. For others who never wanted to leave their comfort, returning was never in their plans! But for those who have lived among the pagans, their lives needed to be expunged.
As they marched to Jerusalem, the one-barren ground began to flourish again. The plows were sharpened, and the livestock began to regain its strength. What became of their Temple, their pride and glory, was reduced to rubble. They had to rebuild it as soon as they can.
And what was left of the tree stump that awaited for them? Well, a small flower started to bloom in its heart...