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Three months after Solomon’s judgment of the two women, his fame had spread as far east as China and as far west as the British Isles. In every land and kingdom, from the least even to the greatest, people heard of great King Solomon’s wisdom, riches and honor.
Tales filled the land of how the king composed songs, proverbs and music greater than any his father had ever created. Some said that he could write a proverb and song every hour of every day . . . and often times, he did.
Tales from far away said that those in Jerusalem hardly worked, that gold and riches dropped like rain, and that a continual feast filled the city.
Of course, some of the stories were just that . . . mere tales and legends breathing life into the truth. But if even half the tales were to be believed, Solomon had managed, in four years of his reign, to achieve the greatest success of any ruler that had ever taken a throne upon the earth.
Benaiah stared at the huge maps pinned across the broad table in the study. Solomon sat before a roaring fire. The room was tall and narrow and octagonal in shape. Each wall bore scrolls, hundreds of scrolls, reaching as high as the vaulted ceiling.
“Your kingdom now stretches from the Euphrates all the way to the Nile. And this does not include those lands adjacent to Israel which pay tribute to you every month,” Benaiah said as he scanned the map and carefully marked something in a large, red leather volume, containing a folded scroll.
Solomon rose from his chair and faced his friend. “And the census? What of that?”
Benaiah opened another scroll. “It was just completed this morning. As of now, nearly 500 million Israelites. Truly, our people have become like the sands of the sea.”
“Just as our Lord promised,” Solomon whispered as he gazed up at the towering scroll shelves.
Benaiah rolled up the census scroll and glanced at another, smaller scroll. “Apparently China and Egypt desire to send emissaries next month to copy some of your proverbs and music. Some are saying not even the wisest in those lands can contend with your mind.”
Solomon smiled softly. “If only they knew it is not me . . . it is our Creator speaking through me.”
Benaiah nodded and rolled several open scrolls and cleared them off the large map.
“Have you read many of these?” Solomon asked.
Benaiah shrugged as he stacked the scrolls underneath the table. “A few I suppose. I’ve never been one for reading, myself.”
Solomon nodded. “Not much of a reader, eh? And yet with all these thousands of volumes here in our halls, it is only the smallest pin prick of knowledge to the Creator. Can you even imagine that?”
Benaiah stood to his feet and shook his head. “It is incredible.”
Solomon stared at the scroll shelves and then grinned at his friend. “I’m glad I asked for wisdom. With our Creator, it appears His wisdom knows no end.”
Benaiah nodded and opened a small notebook still left on the table. “Speaking of which, the people here at Jerusalem have been feasting and celebrating so much this year that the number of work days have dropped by seventy-five percent.”
Solomon raised his eyebrows. “Oh, my.”
“However, despite the reduction in labor, the profit margin of the City has increased by ninety-five percent. How, I couldn’t begin to tell you.”
Solomon laughed. “Well, I can tell you how, my dear Benaiah. Our Lord has promised us riches beyond anything we have ever seen. And trust me, we’ve only seen the beginning.”
Solomon and Rebecca sat on their respective thrones in the king’s court. Hundreds of people sat at banquet red wood tables, feasting at the opening of another Sabbath. The king’s court dwarfed the gathering of officials. Rich, thick red carpet covered the floor. Obsidian pillars supported the huge, vaulted stone ceilings. Wide, yawning windows let in silver moonlight from either side.
Solomon’s throne, forged from pure gold, looked rather simple in comparison to the stone throne in the judgment hall. No lions formed the armrests. Rather, it was a simple chair made of gold. Rebecca sat just to his right. Small tables stood before them with steaming trays of food, heated just before the Sabbath began.
On the far end of the massive hall, the oaken doors swung inward. Two Levites appeared with silver trumpets and blew them.
Benaiah, a long dark cloak billowing from his shoulders, followed the Levites and bowed before the royal gathering.
“King Solomon, an unexpected visitor has arrived! King Hiram of Lebanon is here to request an audience with you!”
Solomon rose to his feet and smiled. “King Hiram? I’ve not seen him since my father’s death!” He looked down at his wife. Rebecca rose to her feet and nodded. “Yes, yes, Benaiah by all means, send him in!”
Benaiah bowed and departed.
Solomon pointed to guards standing near him. “Go bring another table and set it here, right in front of us. I want seven more platters brought immediately.”
The servants bowed and rushed to complete the king’s request.
The two Levites blew their trumpets once again and this time the oaken doors swung wide. A group of bare chested men walked in, scimitars at their side and red bandannas tied around their bald heads. The familiar, stocky figure of Hiram followed. His black eye patch glittered in the light, and his thick, black beard looked much thicker and blacker than Solomon remembered. He also limped on a wooden leg, leaning on a staff.
The bare chested men formed an aisle on either side as Hiram limped forward with his thick necked guards. He looked around the royal palace with a scowl before stopping in front of the throne.
“Well, I can see you haven’t kept this place nearly as nice as your father did!” Hiram growled.
Tension grew. Rebecca frowned. Benaiah’s hand fell to the pommel of his sword. Solomon cleared his throat, his face impassive.
Hiram limped closer to Solomon and stared up at the man. His scowl deepened. “And look at you. I see little muscle and much self love. Not good at all.”
Silence.
Hiram suddenly lunged forward. Benaiah drew his sword. Solomon caught the old king and they both embraced roughly, laughing hard.
“You old devil!” Hiram shouted as he laughed and hugged the king. “How is the boy king these days?”
Solomon laughed as well, a little nervously. “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed, Hiram.”
“That’s King Hiram to you, Solomon!” Hiram laughed as he turned to Rebecca. “I heard of this pretty rose, but until now I didn’t realize how beautiful she truly was. You must be Queen Rebecca?”
He gently kissed her hand and smiled a toothy grin at her. “You’ve done well for yourself, Solomon!”
“That’s King Solomon to you,” Benaiah shouted with a grin as he sheathed his sword.
Hiram laughed and turned around. “So it is! So it is. So I’ve crashed in on your Sabbath banquet, eh?”
Solomon helped the limping king down as the servants brought in a table laden with steaming food. “How did you hurt your leg?”
“Hmm? Ah, yes, my leg,” Hiram grunted and knocked on his wooden peg. “Sharks in the Mediterranean. Damned sharp teeth they have.”
Solomon nodded as a servant helped Hiram into his chair. His guards took seats as well.
“Welcome to my court, King Hiram. It’s been what, four years?”
Hiram nodded as he grabbed a chicken leg and began eating it. “I’ve been busy and I see you’ve been as well. I was returning from Egypt and thought I’d pay you a visit.”
Solomon nodded as he returned to his seat. “Do your bare chested men want some dinner perhaps?”
Hiram shrugged. “Oh, no, they’re paid mercenaries and will do just as they are told. Believe me, they eat well.”
Solomon nodded and sipped at his soup. He could tell the other Israelite officials eyed the bare chested men with suspicion. Solomon smiled and tried to bring peace back to the room. Hiram was an enigma to Israel; he hardly ever visited the nation but had found a warm place in David’s heart. For that single reason, he seemed to think he could come and go as he pleased in Israel. Solomon laughed inwardly. He adored the pirate king and doubted he could ever give in to the suspicion of his officials.
Lebanon, alone of all the other surrounding countries, never paid tribute to Israel. Solomon assumed Hiram had signed a secret agreement with his father that exempted him from taxes. He never even thought to challenge the nation. He knew his father loved Hiram very much and would be careful not to jeopardize the relationship.
Solomon looked up at Hiram, a sudden thought in his mind. “King Hiram, it is interesting that you come this evening. When Sabbath ends, I plan to spend time pouring over the plans my father wrote for the Temple.”
“Ah yes!” Hiram grunted, lifting a chicken leg in one beefy hand. “The Temple. I was wondering if you’d ever get around to building it.”
“Your country has a hefty supply of cedar and fir. Those supplies would go a long way in helping me build the Temple.”
“Indeed,” Hiram wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I could ship those supplies by the sea to Jaffa. And in return?”
Solomon smiled. No, Hiram was certainly not one to pay tribute to Israel. “We will supply you with wheat and grains. I know Lebanon would benefit greatly from those.”
Hiram nodded. “Indeed again. Yes, I’m sure we could work something out.”
Solomon clapped his hand. “Excellent! We’ll continue this discussion after Sabbath.”
Hiram examined the plans of the Temple as he fingered his eye patch. Benaiah stood to one side and Solomon on the other. They once again stood in the octagonal study walled with scrolls.
“You’re going to need a lot more than cedar and fir to complete this,” Hiram said as he traced one thick finger over the page.
“My father has amassed over two thirds of the materials. Everything is ready to proceed. And I have miners ready to dig into Mount Zion and hew out all the riches and costly stones within. We can begin as soon as tomorrow.”
Hiram nodded again and lifted his hands. “Well, then, everything looks good to me. This is quite a Temple, bigger than I would think anyone would need . . . but it is your Temple.”
“It’s how my father wanted it.” Solomon spoke quietly. “I think the Lord spoke to him directly about the structure. And it is not my Temple, it is the Lord’s.”
Hiram grunted. “Yes, well, I suppose. If you believe in that sort of thing.”
Benaiah smiled tightly. “Oh, we do King Hiram.”
The pirate king limped from the table and toward the roaring fire place. “I can have your materials shipped by boat in two weeks. You’ll have to use your men to bring the supplies here from the sea port. And I expect the payment to be waiting on the docks upon our arrival.”
“You will have everything as promised,” Solomon said.
Hiram nodded, turned to face the king and shook his hand. “Then we have a deal! You’ll have your supplies within the fortnight.”
“In the fourth year of King Solomon’s reign,” Benaiah said slowly as he penned the words into the large volume. “construction on the Temple began.” Benaiah frowned at his writing. “This is such a pain. My letters are too big.”
“You’re doing fine, Benaiah.”
Solomon heard Benaiah scribbling the words. He stood on the balcony in the late afternoon sun. Benaiah sat behind him in his bedchamber, carefully recording the history that Solomon had instructed to be kept since his reign began.
The king watched as the sun began to sink behind the towering Mt. Zion. Hundreds of chariots and wagons climbed up on one side and down the other. A jagged, man-made cleft cut the side of Zion like a large wound, as thousands of skilled miners dug deep into the bowels of the mountain.
Solomon watched as empty wagons disappeared into the shadow of the cleft, while others emerged laden with glittering piles of gold, mountains of red rubies, green emeralds and pure crystals. Just as YHVH had told him, the mountain stored hundreds of different precious stones. He would use these stones as the foundation for the Temple.
“I’m going to look at what they’ve done with the foundation so far, this evening,” Solomon turned back into his bedchamber. “Do you want to join me?”
Benaiah looked up from the volume and shook his head. “I’ve got some new recruits I’m training tonight. Maybe Rebecca would like to go.”
Solomon shook his head. “No, she won’t be back from Egypt until tomorrow. I’ll go alone.”
The moon cast a tepid silver over the entire city. Solomon sat in his crystal chariot as two servants drove him toward the Temple Foundation site. They passed under the dark shadow of Mount Zion as they left the city proper.
“We’re at the foundation, your majesty,” one of the servants called.
Solomon had drifted off to sleep but quickly shook himself awake. He groggily stepped out of the chariot and looked onto the foundation spread before him. He gasped in awe.
Like a silver glittering ocean, the emeralds, diamonds, rubies and crystals refracted the moonlight across the foundation’s face. It stretched out eighty feet in either direction. Truly remarkable.
And this is just the foundation for the actual Temple Proper. Around this would soon be the gates of gold, fortified by towers of silver. Solomon smiled as he walked across the smooth surface of the precious stones. Carefully cut and placed together, the thousands of stones formed a placid lake like surface. He spotted bars of gold so pure, they almost looked transparent. Truly, truly remark--
Solomon stopped in mid step. Not ten feet before him the familiar column of fire burned, this time reaching as high as they eye could see into the sky. Solomon looked to see if his servants saw the miracle but the chariot and his men had vanished.
He turned back to the column of fire, the red-gold pillar blazing on the foundation surface, casting a red hew onto the silver lake. The stones themselves reflected back the column of fire, making it look as if it extended forever downward as well as forever upward.
Solomon. Dear Solomon. You have done well.
Solomon fell to his knees, squeezing his eyes shut as the Voice, deep and loving, filled his soul.
If you continue to walk before me, and continue to obey My instructions, I will dwell among the children of Israel and will never leave.
“Thank you, my Lord,” Solomon whispered. This time he could feel the warmth of the burning pillar.
And if you keep your heart perfect before Me, I will fill this Temple with My glory!
In a moment the column of fire disappeared. Solomon slowly lifted his face but saw only the silver surface of the foundation and the darkness of the sky above.
“My lord?” A servant rushed toward the prostrate king.
Solomon stumbled to his feet. “I’m fine. Take me home.”
Solomon stood before the Tabernacle of David in Jerusalem, waiting for Zadok to emerge with his priests. Thousands lined the city streets leading from the Tabernacle up to the now finished Temple of Solomon. Seven years, Solomon thought as he drew Rebecca close to his side. Seven years and the Temple is finally finished.
Benaiah, his red beard flowing in the wind, jumped onto a platform before the king and addressed the large crowd. “It is now the seventh Hebrew month and, as the Torah dictates, the Feast of Tabernacles begins tomorrow. In honor of this very great feast, our king has summoned all the leaders of Israel to bring the Ark of the Covenant up to the newly finished Temple. For years the Ark of the Covenant has rested here, in the tabernacle David. But from this day forward, the Tabernacle of David is no more. From this day forward, the Tabernacle of Moses in Gibeon shall be no more. From this day and onward, the Ark of His Presence shall rest in the heart of Solomon’s Temple, and only there shall our sacrifices be made. Our Creator promised us that He would choose a place to set His Name and only there would we give Him offerings. Well, my friends, He has chosen a place, and that place is right here in Jerusalem, in the Temple of Solomon!”
A loud cheer burst through the air. Rebecca squeezed her husband’s hand.
“I wish they would stop calling the Temple mine!” Solomon whispered to his wife.
“And now,” Benaiah said as the crowd quieted. “Zadok and his priests with the Ark!”
A hush fell over the crowd as the flaps on the tabernacle pulled back. Zadok emerged, in his gold and white robes, his large priestly head covering shining in the brilliant sun. His beard had now turned completely white and blended seamlessly with his robe.
Behind him, four Levitical Priests robed in white bore on staves the golden Ark of the Covenant. Solomon felt his throat tighten as the priests slowly bore the Ark past him and toward the Temple. He had only seen the Ark move once before, as a young boy when his father had first brought it up to Jerusalem.
“My lord, you may follow the Ark or do as you will,” Benaiah shouted to the king over the roar of the crowd.
Solomon grinned, glanced at his wife and then released her hand as he ran forward. Solomon, shouting in glee, began to dance around the Ark, lifting his hands in praise. In answer, several Levites in the crowd began playing joyous music to accompany Solomon’s singing and dancing.
He later remembered little of that day save the utter joy he felt. He danced and twirled and leapt and sang, always keeping himself close to the Ark as it slowly advanced toward the new Temple. He saw banners, and thousands of laughing faces, and he remembered the adoring face of his wife looking on from behind, the proud face of Benaiah, the somber but joyful face of Zadok. The music, the drums, the priests, the shofars . . . they formed a kaleidoscope of memories that made that day seem more like a dream than anything else.
And, even for a brief moment, as he danced with relentless energy around the Ark, he thought he almost glimpsed his father, King David, dancing alongside him, lifting his hands in jubilee.
As they approached the Temple, Solomon stopped to catch his breath, laughing as the Ark continued its slow march forward. A road paved in pure gold led right up to the hundred foot high wall of pale stone. The wall, fortified on each corner with squat towers forged from pure silver, looked so mighty and terrible, it seemed almost unreal. Towering iron gates opened near the bottom of the wall for those who would enter the massive courtyard beyond. Three gates stood right of center, and another two left of center. Above the gates, and reaching up to the top of the walls, large cedar pillars coated in gold, formed a long esplanade across the upper wall.
Terracing inward, the top thirty feet of the wall had large windows every four feet, filled with blazing torches all day and all night, burning lamps to signify the glory of the Creator’s Presence within.
And towering high above the wall, the Temple itself stood within the huge courtyard. The three remaining walls looked just like the one Solomon and the crowd approached. This front wall and the back one stretched seven hundred feet across. The walls on either side stretched more than one thousand feet.
Solomon rejoined his wife as they followed the Ark through one of the iron gates into the vast courtyard.
Six hundred feet from the front wall, the Temple stood like a giant jewel. Its porches, walls, turrets, towers and gates glittered with gold, silver, cedar, diamonds, rubies and crystals. The eyes could hardly absorb the utter intricate beauty that created a web of majesty across the Temple’s surface. In the afternoon sun, golden light glittered off every surface, forcing most to shield their eyes from the brilliance.
They walked across the massive courtyard toward the Temple and passed the brazen altar, larger than any Israelite had seen before. Beyond this, they passed beneath the massive brazen sea, a large laver of water for the cleansing of the priests. The stone cauldron sat atop twelve granite oxen, three facing in each direction. Large silver steps wound up and around the sea to the top where the priests could easily access the cleansing waters held within. Water circulated through the basin from a stream that flowed through the courtyard and underneath the laver.
And beyond the sea, an elegant porch stretched the length of the Temple facing them: ivory pillars supported an ornate overhang. Marbled steps led up to a porch of pure gold. In the center of the porch, two massive pillars, forged from pure obsidian, carried the center portion of the porch overhang higher than the rest, each topped with a flowery chapitar.
The Priests slowly began to ascend the marbled steps, carrying the Ark onto the porch before the Temple. Zadok raised his hand and the priests stopped, standing before the huge golden doors of the Temple Proper.
Solomon and Rebecca joined them on the porch and then turned to face the crowds which now filled the Temple courtyard from one end to the other.
“Our law states that the Feast of Tabernacles is seven days long, with the eighth being Hoshannah Rabbah. But in honor of this glorious Temple our Lord has helped us create, this year the Feast of Tabernacles will be held for fourteen days!”
The crowd cheered.
“We stand now before the Holy Place. We know only the High Priest may proceed beyond this into the Most Holy Place. He will take with him these four this once to safely deposit the Ark in the heart of this Temple. We shall await them here,” Solomon nodded to Zadok as the crowd roared again.
The golden doors swung open as Zadok led the four priests and the Ark into the Holy Place. Solomon held his wife close as the crowd waited in expectant silence.
Benaiah joined the king on the porch. “Solomon, would you like us to build a scaffold for you here in front of the porch for the ceremonies today?”
Solomon nodded. “Yes. I want to keep the Temple before me and the crowds behind.”
Benaiah nodded and hurried off.
“It’s so beautiful, Solomon,” Rebecca breathed as she stared up at the intricate carvings underneath the overhang of the porch. “I can hardly believe it only took seven years to build. It seemed to go by so quickly.”
Solomon smiled and hugged his wife close. “Just wait until you see the house I have planned for you, my darling wife.”
Rebecca laughed. “More grand than this? That would be a true miracle.”
Without warning, a cloud of thick smoke burst from the Temple and covered the porch. Solomon and Rebecca fell to their faces as the cloud passed over them. In moments the cloud spread out through the courtyard. Wherever it touched, the people fell on their faces, unable to move.
The cloud continued to blow out from the Temple, rising high in the courtyard.
“What’s happening?” Rebecca sounded frightened, a bare whisper.
“It’s His Presence, my dear. His Presence is filling this place!” Solomon said as tears ran down his eyes. He had never felt the weight of his glory in such a physical way before.
Not until evening had the cloud lifted in such a way that people could stumble to their feet. Even then, most needed the help of others to walk, and the burden of the cloud weighed heavily on their shoulders. Occasionally someone would stumble and fall right back on his face, only to remain prostrate for another several hours.
Zadok and the other priests were unable to leave the Temple until the next morning and when they finally emerged onto the porch, their faces burned with such brilliance that few could look upon them.
Benaiah tried to direct the construction of the scaffold as quickly as possible, but with the weight of the cloud, the work proceeded slowly.
“It’s finally ready, Solomon,” Benaiah said apologetically.
Solomon shook his head, hunched under the weight. “Thank you, Benaiah. Please pitch our tent in the courtyard and escort my wife to her bed. She needs some rest.”
Benaiah carefully took Rebecca’s hand and helped her from the porch and into the crowd.
Solomon slowly made his way onto the scaffold, a large wooden platform railed by polished, gleaming oak, facing both the Temple Proper and the crowds in the courtyard.
Solomon knelt on the platform facing the Temple, raising his hands to the morning sky.
“Oh my Yah, Lord and Creator,” Solomon whispered as he heard the crowd hush behind him. “Thank you for filling this small house with Your Presence. You have done far more than I could ever ask. And if I died today, my rule and life would have been enough.”
Solomon looked up into the pale blue sky, above the highest tower of the Temple. “This is Your House, to dwell in, although not even the highest heavens could contain You, let alone this tiny place.
“Please, oh Lord, may You always remain here in his House. If ever your people Israel should fall into sin and You bring upon them disease and sickness and the sword of their enemies, if they come here in repentance, and seek Your face for all the judgments you have brought upon them, hear their pleas and answer them. Please, my Lord and Creator, never leave this, your house!”
Solomon rose to his feet and turned toward the thousands of Israelites waiting for him to speak. Most of them had spent the night on their faces in the courtyard and had waited long to hear what their king would say.
“As you can see,” Solomon shouted. “he has chosen to make this House His dwelling place. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why . . . but I am grateful.”
The crowd nodded wearily, too weak from the burden of the cloud to shout or cheer.
Solomon lifted his hands toward the crowd. “And now, by the authority given me by our Lord, I bless you all. May you and your families grow fruitful in this land, and may you never forget this day, when our Creator came to dwell among us in this place.”
Solomon threw back his cloak and lifted his hands to the air. “And now, let the dedication of the Temple begin!”
Loud trumpets began to blow as hundreds of white robed Levites began leading lambs and oxen toward the brazen altar. The crowds parted as the first of the burnt offerings in the new Temple burned on the altar; clouds of fire, smoke and incense joining the the glory cloud in a sweet veil that covered the Temple long after the last of them departed.
