They pitched tents surrounding that single stone slab, amidst forgotten heaps of rubble-- families from Kiriath Jearim to Mount Nebo; descendants from the lineage of Levi and Solomon’s servants; singers, scribes, ministers, masons, carpenters, priests, and common people. Together, their assembly numbered 42,360.
They arrived from Babylon, dispersed children of an exiled remnant… now entrusted with gold and silver treasures, and most of all with the king’s commission to rebuild the Jerusalem Temple-- the house the LORD, the living God of Israel.
They laid the first layer of foundation at noon that day, and although the livestock reserved for sacrifices could not be spent on such an early accomplishment... they nonetheless feasted into the evening hours on those provisions they could always spare-- music.
Brazen trumpets and boisterous cymbals electrified the night air. Priests leading worship brought out extravagant, jewel-encrusted vestments of a former generation, glimmering with new life in the reflected light of so many fires. Singers, both native Jewish and hired Gentile, lifted harmonious psalms of praise into the stars above and to the throne of He who placed them.
Yehovah towb checed Yisra'el `owlam!
---
Moving among (yet standing apart from) these elaborate festivities, an eight-year-old girl from Ramah danced with all her might. Her leaping and spinning form traveled below the sight of men and women ... but the LORD above saw her pure heart, and delighted most of all in this simple gift of worship.
Her strength began to fade and each step grew heavier, but the girl remained animated with an unrelenting adoration. Still, to avoid collision with the crowded masses, she wove her way through the countless narrow corridors of discarded debris, resolving to rest only at the Temple foundation. Here, atop the peak of Zion and upon a table of stone, clamor dared not intrude and firelight would not reach; the silent, shadowless glow of a clear sky became total and sufficient.
There was one other person present, at this island of solemn solitude within so great a sea of reverent revelry. He wore long robes, yet paid no mind to their condition, alternating swiftly between stretching his hands heavenward, bringing himself to his knees, and touching his forehead to the earth.
At first, the girl did not wish to disturb the man’s prayer, and so she quietly settled herself facing away on a far corner of the sixty cubit slab. However, she could not help from hearing the sounds of desperate sorrow-- broken pleas between choking sobs; the cloth of an outer garment suddenly sundering; a tight fist pounding, again and again, against world-weary flesh.
And so, in that way only a innocent child can so thoughtlessly do, the girl approached the suffering man and asked why he was crying.
“I am weeping, not crying,” he answered, before inquiring in return, “Where are your parents? What right does a little girl have to enter the LORD’s house?”
Her spirit was polite, but just as tenacious as in her dancing. “Father, my family and all Israel are celebrating below, but I grew tired, and thought there is no better place to rest than the LORD’s house. Why are you weeping?”
The man’s expression softened. “Forgive me, daughter. May the LORD have mercy on us both, then. When the walls are up, none but priests will be permitted to enter, but just this once, while darkness is the only curtain and stonemasons walk on this ground, I wished to behold the seat of glory…”
His eyes scanned over the unadorned platform and welled up fresh tears, before he spoke again, “...at least, to behold where it once was. Tell me, what is your name?”
“I am Jedidah, of Ramah.”
He frowned in deep thought. “Ah. I am ‘of Bethel,’ in how we Israelites are now introducing ourselves… but not truly. It was my parents who were raised in that town; I was born in Babylon.”
“And your name, sir?”
He seemed determined to answer her courteously and honestly, before something in the remembrance flooded his heart with new frustration. “I… am a wise man, who is not wise. A ghost. A forsaken king.”
For her part, Jedidah was abounding with a mix of graciousness and guilelessness, so that she carried on the conversation without skipping a beat. “Wise Man, did you see the Temple, before?”
“No, child…. I am not that old! I told you, my family was dragged away as captives in Babylon. I am not so different from you, inheriting an unfamiliar land. And yet… I listened carefully to the stories of my elders who served in the LORD’s house, and cherished them in my own heart. It almost feels as if I am returning again, and I can nearly see the room now-”
“Wise Man, what was in the room??”
His gaze lifted and filled with wonder as he responded. “It was like the Garden of Eden made new, daughter-- pomegranates and palms, lampstands and latticework… and inlaid with gold. All of it. The whole room! But above it all, it was where the LORD God made His dwelling and met with men.”
She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Is He still here…?”
The Wise Man resumed his pondering posture, with one hand stroking his beard. “The king of Persia thinks so. Ezra believes it. The prophets have kept silent, but the LORD may yet assure us through them.”
“Do you think He is here, Wise Man?”
If there was a last barrier withholding the ocean of grief in this man’s heart, it shattered, and he cast his body and soul prostrate upon the ground.
“I-... doubt. I know His word, but I still doubt.
“How could He still be here, through all our shame and desolation?
“What hope is there, with Israel divided and led astray by wicked kings?
“Why did our fathers even behold the beauty of His Temple at all… if it was only to be devoted for destruction? Truly, it would have been better if the Temple was never built, if this land was never in our possession, and if we were to remain slaves in Egypt!”
Silence filled the air at the end of this statement, and even Jedidah could sense the weight of its blasphemy. The distant, muffled voice of Israel rose in answer, but the Wise Man could not hear it.
“Rebuilt or not, I weep, for the stories which became a part of me will remain entombed beneath this foundation, just as the home I once clung to is left behind in Babylon. Both are dead, and their memories will never again bring me pleasure. Now leave me, and return to the joy of your family, for you still have many years and reason for hope… but as for me, my youth is already wasted, and as long as my heart is burdened with mourning, I cannot sing with my people.”
After all this, Jedidah was feeling understandably uncomfortable. She gave some serious consideration to leaving this stubborn, shockingly dramatic man in his own grief, and it would have been excusable for this 8-year-old girl to do so. She prayed in her heart for guidance, but no answer to the Wise Man’s questions came to her. She willed herself to remain in his presence, but felt like a useless and awkward stranger.
Yet the voice congregation cried out louder than before, declaring a promise and summoning that same source of unwavering courage in Jedidah’s spirit.
Yehovah towb checed Yisra'el `owlam!!!
“No,” she said. “As surely as the LORD of Israel lives, I will not leave you.”
The Wise Man - still prostrate on the floor - showed no sign of hearing her, but she assumed that he did.
“I will not leave you. If you cannot sing, then you must shout! If not a spirit of rejoicing, then give the LORD above your whole heart of sorrow.”
“I-... I have already spoken too much. I will offend God. My conflicted heart will betray the words.”
“No!” she said again, but with a tone of nobility and not childish temper. “Stand up, Wise Man. Shout, even if you aren’t feeling it… please. Shout because of His promise, and His faithfulness! We will shout with you, and surely the LORD can endure whatever hurt you are trying to hold from Him.”
Finally, the Wise Man glanced up from the earth, then slowly stood to attention… with respect that is not unlike the sort paid to a royal heir.
“...can there be a restoration of lost years, broken hearts, and defiled thrones, even for Solomon?”
Yehovah towb checed Yisra'el `owlam!!!!!!!
"And when the builders laid the foundation of the temple of the Lord, the priests in their vestments came forward with trumpets, and the Levites, the sons of Asaph, with cymbals, to praise the Lord, according to the directions of David king of Israel. And they sang responsively, praising and giving thanks to the Lord,
“For he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever toward Israel.”
And all the people shouted with a great shout when they praised the Lord, because the foundation of the house of the Lord was laid. But many of the priests and Levites and heads of fathers’ houses, old men who had seen the first house, wept with a loud voice when they saw the foundation of this house being laid, though many shouted aloud for joy, so that the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful shout from the sound of the people’s weeping, for the people shouted with a great shout, and the sound was heard far away." -Ezra 10:13
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