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Solomon felt more nervous than he had ever felt in his entire life. His hands sweated, cold and clammy, and his knees shook, knocking against each other. Stop it, Solomon! You’re the king of Israel! Get a hold of yourself. People do this all the time. It is a simply matter of protocol. Nothing more.
But the more he tried to calm himself, the more he felt anxious. What if he said no? What if she said no? What if Benaiah had misread the entire situation? Hadn’t they long ago worn out their welcome? What was he even doing here?
Solomon stood before a huge cedar door, torches flickering in iron brackets on either side. He stood in a long, granite hewn corridor, exotic Persian rugs hanging across the walls. He stood before the king’s inner court where he dined every evening. Could he go through with this?
The tall doors barely opened and Benaiah stuck his head into the hall. He winked at his friend.
“Ok, the Pharaoh is ready to see you. Want me to stay?”
Solomon blinked a moment and then shook his head. “Of course not! Get out of here!”
Benaiah winked again and ducked out the door and down the hall. “May Yah be with you!” He whispered playfully.
Solomon took a deep breath before slipping through the doors.
He stepped into a room smaller than he had thought. For the past six months Solomon had eaten dinner in a different location every night as Zelemi gave him a tour of the land. This was his first evening at the Pharoh’s own residence. The room was very high, the rafters oaken beams high above. But it was also narrow. On one side of the room, a tall slitted window let in a spear of silver moonlight. On the back wall a roaring fire place. Pharaoh sat in a red, plush sofa, back to the fireplace. He lounged on the sofa with his wife and daughter. They all ate lazily from bowls set before them. Two guards stood on either end of the narrow room.
Solomon swallowed nervously. “Pharaoh. I did not expect your entire family to be here.”
He met Zelemi’s eyes for a moment before looking again at the aged ruler.
Pharaoh shrugged. “Why? Is it not the custom in your land for families to have dinner together?”
Solomon opened his mouth, then paused, unsure of what to say. “Well, no . . . I mean yes, it is the custom, but I had-- well, I had requested a private meeting. I could perhaps come later--”
Pharaoh rose to his feet and threw up his hands. “Of course not! This is the private meeting. There are no secrets where my family is concerned. What do you have to tell us?”
Solomon’s face burned red. This was not what he had wanted at all. How could he ask Zelemi’s father for her hand in marriage with her standing not three feet away? This wouldn’t do at all! Blast Benaiah! He had known about this all along!
“I really don’t think--”
“Solomon, come now. Tell me what you need. There is no better time,” he appeared to have a twinkle in his eye, as if he were enjoying this. Had Benaiah conspired with the Pharaoh?
Zelemi smiled shyly and looked down at her couch. The queen stared expectantly at Solomon. The Pharaoh, tapping his foot, waited.
Solomon took another deep breath. Just be a man, Solomon. “My lord and Pharaoh, you have been a most gracious host these past six months. I’m afraid, however, I must return to Jerusalem. I have pressing business at home.”
The Pharaoh nodded. “This is the news needing privacy?”
Solomon swallowed hard against the dryness in his throat. “No, I . . . because we are departing . . . leaving the country . . . I have a question for you.”
“Yes?” The Pharaoh raised an eyebrow.
Solomon kept his gaze fixed on the flames, not daring to look at the father or daughter. Not even the mother. Could he really go through with this? Oh, just say it Solomon! Just ask it!
“I would like to ask the hand of your daughter in marriage.”
Pharaoh slowly turned his face toward Zelemi, his face stone and impassive. A long silence hung in the room. Solomon looked desperately at Pharaoh but could not read anything. Now you’ve done it, Solomon.
“And what does my daughter have to say about this?” Pharaoh whispered.
Zelemi, staring at her couch the whole time, lifted her face toward her father, her eyes bright and shining. “I would very much like to marry the king from Israel.”
Solomon felt his heart explode. A sudden rush of relief flooded him. She turned her beautiful pool like eyes onto him. He smiled softly.
“Well, then,” Pharaoh said, a smile creasing his face. “I suppose it is settled. You did take long enough, didn’t you Solomon?”
“Uh . . . excuse me?” Solomon almost choked.
“I was sure you would leave without even asking!” He laughed and gripped Solomon’s hand. “Congratulations, my fair king!”
Solomon laughed back and Zelemi rose to her feet. Her face glowed in the firelight.
“We shall have a grand wedding at Jerusalem, then,” the Pharaoh said. “I’ve never been to Jerusalem, actually. And we shall use this marriage for a treaty between our two peoples. Never again will there be war between Egypt and Israel!”
The city of Jerusalem burst with every color imaginable. News of the wedding traveled like lightning across the land. People everywhere journeyed to the city, each with their festive banners, flags, clothes and confetti. By the day of the much anticipated wedding, every street, home and shop in Jerusalem fluttered, waved and billowed with beautiful banners, flags and fabrics.
The Levites, adorned in the purest linen, stood at attention in the King’s Court, each with a glittering silver trumpet, blasting beautiful music throughout the morning. Thousands thronged the streets and court, vying for a chance to see Solomon and his new soon to be bride.
Benaiah, decked in golden armor, his sword newly polished, stood on a specially built platform set high above the crowd and before the king’s palace. He smiled at the crowds and nodded to his lieutenant, Joshua.
“Is Zelemi ready for the ceremony?”
Joshua nodded. “She’s waiting for your signal.”
Benaiah nodded again before raising one hand. Seven Levites blasted shofars to silence the throngs. “Men and women of Israel, before the wedding begins, the daughter of Pharaoh shall undergo one of our most precious ceremonies: she is to become an Israelite.”
Millions of shouts rose into the air.
Benaiah nodded as Joshua headed toward the back of the platform and into a long hall diving deep into the palace interior. He returned in moments, Zelemi following dressed in silver and red, with a circlet over her head. The crowd gasped in wonder at her beauty.
Joshua carefully led her to the front of the platform. Benaiah turned toward the princess, a large scroll unfurled in his hand.
“Our Torah allows the alien and foreigner to become part of Israel. Males must undergo circumcision, but both males and females must undergo circumcision of the heart. Are you willing to make this circumcision of the heart, Princess Zelemi?”
She nodded. “I am.”
“And are you willing, from this day forward, to keep all the laws, ordinances, statutes and commandments given to the people of Israel by Moses?”
“I am.”
“And will you strive, to love YHVH your Elohim with all your heart, soul mind and strength and your fellow Israelite as yourself?”
“I will.”
“Then, by the laws and customs of our people, I now declare you to be one with Israel!”
Benaiah lifted her hand and faced the crowd. Hundreds of Levitical trumpets sang into the air as the crowd roared. Rainbow colored silk streamers flew upward as thousands of banners waved in the morning air.
Benaiah lowered her arm and nodded. She curtsied and followed Joshua back into the corridor behind the platform.
“And now, the wedding ceremony!”
The crowd fell into a hush and several priests began playing a beautiful melody on their lyres. The melody sounded hauntingly beautiful, as if something were changing and it would never be the same again. Many began to weep as the melody pierced their hearts.
From a nearby door, king Solomon slowly marched toward the platform. Deep purple and red robes enveloped him. His glittering gold crown topped his dark hair. His thick, midnight beard looked even blacker in the sunlight. His blue eyes glittered. A huge, shining sword hung from his waist. The crowd had never seen their king so grand, so royal, so beautiful.
As Solomon reached the platform, Benaiah fell to one knee. Everyone in the crowd followed suite. Solomon bowed his face low. Benaiah lifted his face to his dear friend, tears in his eyes.
“It is an honor to see you married to a righteous woman,” Benaiah whispered to his friend, wiping away his tears.
Solomon nodded and swallowed, his own eyes damp.
“And now, bring forth the bride!” Benaiah shouted.
From across the courtyard, near the back of the crowd, two massive doors swung open from the far wall. A contingent of richly dressed Egyptians filed out. Pharaoh carefully led Zelemi from the doors and toward the platform. The queen followed close behind. The melody of lyres joined with the trumpets, reaching into a more joyous, upbeat tune.
The crowd parted for the Egyptian contingent as they approached the platform.
Pharaoh carefully led his daughter up the steps to join Solomon and Benaiah.
Benaiah faced Zelemi. “And, daughter of Israel, have you chosen a Hebrew name for yourself?”
She nodded. “I have. I have chosen Rebecca.”
Benaiah nodded his approval and stepped back. Zadok, robed in white, stepped onto the platform and took Benaiah’s place. The High Priest, his beard almost as white as his robes, smiled at the beautiful woman and her father. “Well, Rebecca, daughter of Israel, let us proceed with the wedding.”
As Solomon stood on the platform, underneath the shadow of the wedding chuppa, before the thousands, perhaps millions gathered, facing the beautiful rose of a woman who held his hands, as Zadok carefully proceeded through the marriage rituals, he could think of nothing except those two beautiful eyes. His mother had died a year ago, and those eyes reminded him so much of Bathsheba. He adored Zelemi, now known as Rebecca, more than anything. And, years from then, if he tried to remember that day, all he could see in his mind’s eye were two large, blue eyes, filled with love and adoration.
“And now,” Zadok said in his low, aged voice. “You may kiss the bride.”
Solomon leaned close, her perfume intoxicating. His lips pressed against hers, and for the longest moment they closed their eyes, enjoying each others passion. The crowd broke out into a loud cheer as the Levites played a joyful triumphant Psalm.
Solomon drew back, laughing, even as Benaiah embraced his friend and the Pharaoh embraced his daughter. The wedding feast, begun earlier that day, stretched for another six.
The sky, touched with soft gold, purple and pink, welcomed the evening and the Sabbath day, as Solomon’s large entourage surrounded the Tabernacle of Moses at Gibeon.
Solomon, seated in his crystal chariot, a wedding gift from the Pharaoh, sat with Rebecca and watched through the transparent walls as Benaiah and Zadok saw to the incredible undertaking Solomon had requested. On this erev Shabbat, Solomon would offer the largest burnt offering ever in Israel to their Creator: one thousand slain lambs.
Benaiah had spent the entire week overseeing the construction of five hundred additional brazen altars that now covered the courtyard in such a way that barely a Levite could squeeze through toward the Holy Place.
Zadok had arrived with the Levites and with the one thousand lambs and even now led them toward the various altars. Solomon held his wife’s hand as the two looked on, watching the priests lead the docile lambs to the altars.
Zadok lifted one hand and a Levite lifted a shofar to his lips as the last rays of the sunlight faded beneath the watery horizon of the Mediterranean. All gathered bowed their heads, thanking their Lord for another Sabbath.
“Hear oh Israel . . .” Zadok’s deep voice boomed as he began the prayer.
Zadok then stepped onto a newly constructed scaffold set in the midst of the altars. “It is with great pleasure and supreme happiness that I have helped our great king offer this incredible sacrifice to YHVH! The king has requested this offering in thanks to our Creator for removing all of his enemies and for providing him Rebecca, the daughter of Pharaoh. Not four years into his reign, and already the Creator of the Heavens and Earth has blessed this king beyond any other ruler or judge of the free peoples of Israel.”
A loud cheer filled the evening summer air. Solomon tightened his hold on his wife’s hand. Rebecca smiled at her husband and kissed his bearded cheek.
“And now, as we begin this Sabbath, let us give thanks to our Lord and Creator for his abundant blessings toward our people, our nation and our beloved king.”
With another blowing of the shofar, the priests gently laid two lambs on each altar. Coordinated together, they lifted their blades and brought them down. Not the slightest cry of resistance pierced the air as the blood of the gentle lambs began to flow underneath the altars. Burning incense flew up as the priests began to carefully skin and prepare the offering on the brazen altars.
Tears filled Rebecca’s eyes as she buried her head into Solomon’s shoulder. “It’s so beautiful.”
Solomon nodded, as the smoke and fire of the burnt offerings began to rise into the evening air. “He is a wonderful Elohim, worthy of all our service.”
Solomon listened to the music of the night crickets as he lay in his marriage bed. Rebecca held him close, her hair spread across his chest. They both stared at the ceiling, enjoying the late night stillness and each other’s warmth.
The royal couple slept in a grand palace newly constructed in Gibeon just for this occasion. They had wanted to stay the night in Gibeon after the grand festivities following the burnt offerings so that they would not have to travel back to Jerusalem on the Sabbath. Benaiah had carefully positioned the Israelite guard around the palace, and Zadok led the priests all night in the continual burnt offerings.
Even then, mingled with the song of the crickets, Solomon and Rebecca could hear the mournful, haunting tunes of the Levite trumpets, gently filling the air as a love lament to their Creator.
“You are so blessed to lead such a people, Solomon,” Rebecca whispered as she reached up to kiss her husband.
Solomon smiled at the tears in her eyes. “I suppose that makes you just as blessed, then.”
Rebecca slipped back onto his chest and burrowed her face deep. “I never dreamed of this, my lord. Never in my most wild imaginations.”
Solomon gently stroked her bare back as he felt sleep draw him into a gentle, comforting darkness.
Something woke him. Not a sound . . . but a light. Solomon sat up in bed, Rebecca curled up next to him, still fast asleep. His eyes widened in terror. At the foot of the bed a single column of red, gold fire rose to the ceiling. Oh no, our palace is burning down! And yet Rebecca is still sleeping?
Solomon swung his feet down to the floor when he suddenly noticed he could not feel any heat. In fact, as intensely as the column of fire burned, nothing looked singed. Solomon stared at the fire with fear mixed with wonder. What am I looking at--
Solomon.
The Voice was deep, gentle, but very clear. It sounded from within his mind and deep in his heart.
Solomon. Dear Solomon. I have seen your offerings unto Me.
The king, tears rushing to his eyes, flew from the bed pressing his face to the floor, trembling. Was this how Moses had felt when he had seen the burning bush?
Do not fear, Solomon. I have not come to judge you. I have come because you have pleased me. Your burnt offerings have been a sweet incense unto me on this Sabbath day. I love you, my dear Solomon.
The king remained on the floor, shivering with fright, unsure of what to do. The fire seemed to burn brighter but his wife still remained fast asleep.
I have appeared unto you Solomon even as I have appeared unto your forefathers. Because your heart is perfect in my sight, even as your fathers before you, I have come to grant you whatever your desire may be.
Solomon lifted his face. The column burned so bright it looked blue. He squinted his eyes. “My Lord,” he whispered. “I am unworthy to ask anything of You.”
Do not be afraid, dearest Solomon. Ask of me what you will, and I shall give it to you. Do not I desire to give my children gifts? Ask and it shall be done for you.
Solomon waited in silence, searching for the words he needed. “My Lord and Creator, I ask only one thing of you. This people you have set me over is a great people and who can rule them? Please, grant me the wisdom and understanding to rule your people. I need your wisdom.”
You have asked a wonderful and noble thing, dearest Solomon. Not only will I cause you to be the wisest man that has ever lived or shall ever live, but I will give you what you did not ask: riches, honor . . . and, if you continue to obey Me, a long and enduring life.
“Oh, my Lord, you are so wonderful and great in all Your judgments. I am unworthy to even be called your servant.”
Rest well, my Solomon. When you awake, all that you have asked and more will be granted unto you.
The bright rays of sun speared through the royal bedchamber in Gibeon. Solomon’s eyes fluttered open. Rebecca stood near the bed, holding a tray of bread, butter and various fruits. Her eyes twinkled in the sun as she smiled at her awakening husband.
“Hungry, my lord?”
Solomon smiled back as the memories of the vision rushed into his mind. His eyes widened and he jumped out of bed, staring at the wall where he had seen the column of fire.
“Rebecca! You . . . you should have seen it! The Lord . . . He . . . He appeared to me last night.”
“Appeared to you?”
“Yes! Right here! In the bedroom! While you were sleeping. He was . . . oh, Rebecca, He was so beautiful, so awesome . . . He spoke to me right here!”
Rebecca’s eyes widened in awe. “Solomon . . . that . . . I don’t know what to say.”
Solomon took the tray from her and set it on the bed. He hugged Rebecca close and then twirled her around in joy. “Oh, Rebecca, He is going to give me wisdom! Wisdom like no man has ever known!”
Rebecca began to giggle.
“Oh, and He promised me riches, and honor . . . and long life . . . yes, Rebecca, a long life if I only remember to always obey Him! He said my heart was perfect, Rebecca! He, the Lord of the Universe, called me perfect!”
The two laughed as they embraced each other. A knock at the door scattered their thoughts. Solomon threw on a purple robe as Rebecca opened the door. Benaiah, dressed in full leather armor, stood in the doorway.
“My lord--”
“Benaiah!” Solomon shouted. “I told you, you are my friend! Call me Solomon! And come in!”
“Solomon,” Benaiah bowed. “You are needed at Jerusalem at once. There is a controversy that the judges have been unable to resolve. They need your wisdom.”
Solomon jumped into the air, shouting. “And they shall have it, dear Benaiah! They shall have it! Prepare my chariot! We leave now!”
Benaiah stared at Rebecca in confusion. Rebecca only laughed. “It appears our Creator has visited our king. We shall see the wisdom given to him this day!”
By Solomon’s decree, the royal entourage entered Jerusalem that Sabbath afternoon as a loud parade of joy. Silken streamers, banners, trumpets and shofars, lyres and other stringed instruments filled the city with celebration. Few knew why Solomon had ordered the grand feast, but few cared. For the past four years it had seemed Solomon had fallen under a burden, but ever since his marriage, joy and celebration had flooded the city.
“I want a series of burnt offerings done at the Ark!” Solomon shouted excitedly from his crystal chariot to Zadok, who rode a horse not five feet away. “And I want a Feast held! A grand Feast that will last all week! Everyone must cease their work . . . it will be a grand summer celebration for YHVH’s appearance to me last night!”
Zadok smiled, breaking his usual somber look. “Very well, my lord. I do not believe I have ever seen you so festive before. All that you command shall be done. You are the king, after all.”
Solomon winked at the old High Priest. Zadok’s eyes glittered as he rode on ahead to carry out the king’s command.
Solomon watched the priests toss the incense on the burning altar as sweet smelling smoke burst into clouds in the afternoon air. He smiled, holding his wife’s hand, watching Zadok and the others carry out the offerings in this tabernacle his father had set up right here in Jerusalem.
Benaiah tapped Solomon on the shoulder. Solomon glanced back at him.
“I hate to do this, Solomon, but that controversy is still in need of your attention. I could see if they will wait until after Sabbath but--”
“No, no, of course not,” Solomon said, turning toward his wife. “We will judge the matter at once. And then you shall all see how our Creator has blessed this kingdom!”
Solomon turned away from the tabernacle, Rebecca following and Benaiah leading them both. Solomon headed toward the king’s court and tapped Benaiah on the shoulder. “Go prepare the Judgment Hall.”
The usually empty, cavernous hall, now hissed with several whispered words echoing in the chamber. Solomon rushed up the stone steps onto the throne. Rebecca took her seat a little lower and to his right. Benaiah motioned two middle aged women toward the bottom most step.
“You will each speak in turn and present your testimony before the king,” Benaiah spoke softly.
Dozens of judges and magistrates gathered behind the women, each eager to see how the king would deal with the matter.
Benaiah nodded toward the first woman.
“My lord and king, my name is Abigail. I bore a son the same day this woman bore her son. Our boys were the same age. But yesterday she carelessly laid on her son and suffocated him. Last night, while I slept, she stole my son and placed her dead son in my arms. When I awoke, she claimed my son was hers!”
Benaiah nodded to the other woman, who eagerly stepped forward.
“My lord and king, Abigail is lying! My name is Zipporah. It was her son who died and now she is jealous that mine still lives! She has made up this whole story just to get my son!”
“That is untrue and you know it!” Abigail shouted, and lunged toward Zipporah. Benaiah grabbed Abigail and pulled her back, stepping between the two women. He threatened both the women with a stern expression.
A tall magistrate, robed in black, stepped forward. “King Solomon, we have submitted this case before our wisest judges, but we cannot tell who is lying and who is speaking the truth.” The other judges murmured in agreement.
Rebecca frowned and looked up at her husband.
Solomon slowly closed his eyes and everyone shifted uneasily. Without opening his eyes, he spoke softly. “I want a sword brought into this Judgment Hall. I want the living son brought forward. The living son shall be cut in half with the sword, and one half shall be given to Abigail, the other to Zipporah.”
A bemused look spread across Benaiah’s face. The black robed magistrate frowned deeply. “My lord?” No one moved.
Solomon opened his eyes and rose to his feet. “Did I not speak clearly? Cut the living boy and give half to each woman!”
The magistrate stumbled back as the other gathered officials murmured among themselves. Rebecca looked in horror at her husband. Benaiah slowly drew his sword as one maid brought forward a tiny infant.
“My lord and king, please do not do this evil!” Abigail screamed as she threw herself to Solomon’s feet, sobbing. “Please, give the boy to Zipporah! Please don’t kill him!”
Zipporah folded her arms and shook her head. “Solomon, you are most wise and wonderful in your judgment. I say slice the boy in half and teach this wretched woman a lesson she will never forget!”
Gasps filled the hall.
Solomon smiled softly. “I see. And can anyone now doubt to whom the child belongs?”
The officials stared at Solomon with wide eyes of wonder. Benaiah paused, holding his sword loosely.
“Give the boy to Abigail. Her tender love proves that the boy belongs to her.” He turned toward Zipporah, who had now gone pale. “As for you, Zipporah . . . you are indeed a wicked woman. Not only have you killed your own son through your carelessness, but you have now sought to kill Abigail’s son. Do you not know what happens to those who have murder in their heart?”
Zipporah dropped to her knees, her head bowed, trembling.
Solomon watched as the official gave the infant to Abigail. She hugged the boy close, crying in joy. The baby sucked his thumb blissfully unaware of the surrounding commotion. Rebecca looked at her husband with the same wonder everyone else was directing toward him.
“I want Zipporah taken to the fields. She shall be a slave of the king’s court for seven years. Perhaps in that time she shall learn the value of life . . . and honesty.”
Two guards grabbed Zipporah’s arms, hauled her up and forced her from the hall. Benaiah sheathed his sword. Solomon lifted his hand and the hall cleared within moments. Only his wife and captain of the guard remained under the flickering torch light.
“You really have been touched,” Benaiah breathed. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
Solomon smiled and took the hand of his wife as he stepped down the steps. “Enough of this. Let us return to the Tabernacle and enjoy the rest of our Sabbath!”
