Signs and Wonders (36 page)

The man said: “Not for a thousand shekels would I raise my spear against the king’s son. I stood there in the ranks this morning as the king charged you, saying, ‘Deal gently with my son Absalom. Do not slay him.’ Can I disobey the great king? It would be my own death.”

Joab did not answer but pushed past him and strode off through the woods. He came to the oak, and saw Absalom hanging by his hair. “Prince Absalom,” he said, “are you still alive?”

“Thank God I still live, brave Joab.”

“It is well,” said Joab. “You die with the Lord’s name on your lips.”

He took three darts from a quiver and thrust them through Absalom’s heart. The young man died, still hanging by his golden hair.

Joab blew a great blast from his trumpet. His warriors came running. He gave orders. They cut Absalom down and cast him into a great pit, and covered him with a heap of stones.

David waited at the city gates for news of the battle. A sentry stood watch on the wall. He cried: “A man comes running, O King!”

David climbed to the wall and watched the man come. “I know him,” said David. “He comes with good tidings.”

The runner came near. “All is well!” he called. He ran to David and fell to the earth upon his face, crying, “Blessed be the Lord God! He has delivered up the men who have rebelled against you.”

“Is Absalom safe?” said the king.

“There was a tumult and a confusion,” said the man. “I do not know. I did not see Absalom.”

Then a second runner came. He, too, called joyously to David, “Great tidings, my king! The Lord has avenged you this day upon all those who rose up against you.”

“Is Absalom safe?” said David.

“May all your enemies suffer his fate,” said the second runner.

“Is he dead?”

“He is dead, my lord.”

The king did not rejoice in the victory. He walked away and avoided everyone. He wept. Great wrenching sobs were torn out of him. “Oh, my son Absalom,” he cried. “My son, my son Absalom, would to God I had died for thee.”

David kept to his chamber and would not go out. No one saw him.

Joab came back from the battlefield and searched for the king. He was told: “The king weeps and mourns for Absalom.” The word was passed among the troops, and the day of victory was turned to a day of mourning. People slunk out of the city as if they were ashamed. They looked like defeated men, instead of warriors who had vanquished a foe many times their own number.

And Joab, warrior and captain, could not bear this. He ran up the stairs to the king’s chamber, swept the guards aside, and stormed into the room, crying, “O King, you have shamed me! You have stamped shame upon the faces of all your men who went into battle for you and saved your life, and the lives of your sons and your daughters, and of your wives. Why do you do this? Why do you weep and keep yourself solitary? Do you love your enemies and hate your friends? If Absalom had lived and we all had died by his command, would that have pleased you more?”

“Is this how you speak to your king?” said David. “Have I merited this?”

“You know how I love you,” said Joab. “And how many times I have risked my life for yours and spilled my blood for you. Again today I went into battle for you, and saw men die in that battle, men I led in your name. I cannot bear it, King. I shall put this sword through my own heart unless I see you accept your victory as you should.”

“What do you wish me to do?” said David.

“Arise! Go out and praise your men for their service this day. I swear to you that if you do not, you will not have one man left by evening.”

“Forgive me,” said David. “You are right. My heart is torn, but the time of grieving is past. I will go out to the men.”

David went out and spoke to his men, thanking them and praising them. Then he led them out of Gilead over the Jordan, back to Jerusalem in a triumphal march.

But the wound in his heart did not heal. For many years he mourned Absalom. And it was not until Solomon, son of Bathsheba, his youngest son, grew to be a beautiful youth, also, and a wise and gentle youth, that David was able to forgive himself for his victory over Absalom. Seeing Solomon grow up into such splendid manhood, he realized that God had not meant Absalom to take the throne of David—that he and his sons were all part of a great design, and that Solomon was meant to be king after him.

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AVID RULED OVER ISRAEL FOR FORTY YEARS.
When he knew he was dying, he called for Solomon and said: “Son of Bathsheba, you are not my eldest son, but you are the child of the woman I have loved best. God has chosen you to be my heir and to rule over His people.”

“No, my father!” cried Solomon. “I am not ready for you to die; I am not ready to be king. Do not leave us.”

David said: “I go the way of all flesh, my son. Be strong, therefore; show yourself a man. Keep the charge of the Lord, your God: Walk in His ways, keep His statutes, obey His commandments and His judgments and His testimonies, as is written in the law of Moses. Do this, and you will prosper in all things.”

Solomon was about twenty years old when he was crowned king. The Lord appeared to him in a dream and said: “What shall I give you?”

Solomon said: “You showed David, my father, great mercy. He walked before you in truth and in righteousness. You secured his throne and overthrew his enemies. Now, O Lord, my God, you have made me king. And I am but a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in. I rule over a great people, the people you have chosen, a people who cannot be numbered or counted because of their multitude. I ask only this of you: Give me an understanding heart to judge your people, that I may discern between good and evil.”

God answered, “Because you have asked this thing, and have not asked for a long life, or great riches, or for the life of your enemies, but only an understanding heart and a discerning judgment—because you have done this, behold, you have pleased me and I will give you what you desire. You shall have a wise and understanding heart. You shall be wiser than any man who came before you; nor shall there beany like you afterward.”

Solomon awoke, and knew that he had dreamed, and rejoiced in the dream.

His wisdom was soon tested. There came to him two women. One of them carried a child. The other one said: “Oh, my lord, this woman and I dwell in one house. I was delivered of a child. Three days later this woman bore a child, also. There was no one else in the house, only we two and our two infants. Now, this woman rolled over in her sleep and smothered her child, and he died. Then she arose at midnight and took my son from me as I slept, and laid my child upon her breasts and put her dead child in my bed. When I arose in the morning to nurse my child I saw that he was dead. But when I looked more closely I saw that it was not my babe, but hers.”

“No!” cried the other woman. “You lie, you whore! You were the one who rolled over and smothered your child. My son lives. Yours is dead.”

“It is you who are lying,” said the first woman. “O King, I appeal to you for justice, I speak the truth.”

Solomon studied the faces of both women. He looked at the baby. It seemed to resemble neither woman, but he could not tell. He thought for a moment, then said to his servant: “Bring me a sword.”

A sword was brought to him. “Now,” said the king, “I cannot tell which of you is lying and which tells the truth. Therefore, I shall cut the child in two and divide him between you.”

“No!” cried the first woman. “No, my lord, no! Don’t cut the child in half. I withdraw my claim. Let her have him.”

The second woman said: “You are just, O King. Cut him in two and give me my half.”

Solomon said: “Woman, you who have refused to let the child be slain have produced the only valid claim to motherhood, which is love. I award the child to you.”

God smiled upon Israel. Everything prospered. The people were busy, peaceable, full of joy and pride. And Solomon felt his heart bursting with gratitude.

“I will use my wealth to build a house for God,” he said. “Such a temple as has never been seen.”

He sent for skilled workmen from every land, from Egypt and Tyre and Sidon, from the lands to the south and the east: carpenters, silversmiths, goldsmiths, and those who worked in stone. He had decided that no base metal should be used in God’s house—no tool of iron, no hammer, axe, adze, nor any nail or bolt or rivet of copper or iron. This meant that all the timber had to be cut and shaped, all the stone hewn and polished before reaching Jerusalem. It also meant that the huge beams had to be notched and tapered so that they might fit into each other and hold together of their own weight without spike or nail. The massive hewn stones had to be taken from the quarries of the Dead Sea, carried by ox cart across the desert, and by mule train up the Judean hills. And the great timbers, the tremendous dressed planks of cedar and fir, had to be taken by mule down the hills of Lebanon, then by ox cart to the ports of Sidon and Tyre, loaded on barges, and floated down to the Red Sea port of Ezion-Gabor—then by ox wagon across the desert to the Judean hills, then uphill on mule-back to that courtyard in Jerusalem that was to become the spiritual navel of the world.

Solomon put an army of men to work—one hundred and eighty thousand of them. They worked for seven years. And in that wide, sunny courtyard on the eastern slope of the city’s easternmost hill, stone and timber were fitted together, and a building began to grow into the shape of the vision that burned in Solomon’s mind. In the city taken by his father, David, and dedicated to God, in Jerusalem, a huge temple arose. Of cedar was it made, and fir, and hewn stone. Roof and wall and pillars were covered with gold leaf, pure gold beaten thin as leaves. The temple stood on its hill in Jerusalem, a pillar of golden fire in the sunlight, dazzling the eyes of all who looked upon it.

Solomon decided to make the dedication of this temple the largest, most impressive, most joyous occasion that the world had ever seen. He sent messengers throughout the land and summoned the tribes to assemble in Jerusalem. In that vast throng stood, also, the kings of earth or their ambassadors—from Tyre, Sidon, from Egypt, Persia, Sheba, and Edom. There, before that multitude, Solomon faced the altar and stretched his arms to heaven and prayed to God to enter His house and bless His people. He did not speak loudly, but his voice was like music, and everyone heard every word, even those standing on the farthest hill. And those listening felt that they were hearing not the words of king or priest but the whispered aspirations of their own hearts magnified to an eternal pledge. And the congregation wept, but the tears were of joy.

“Blessed be the Lord, who has given rest unto His people, Israel, according to all that He promised. May the Lord our God be with us as He was with our fathers, and not forsake us. May He incline our hearts to Him so that we walk in His ways and keep His commandments, that all the people of earth may know that the Lord is our God and there is none else.”

Then, upon his signal, the priests bore in the ark of the covenant, that ancient box holding the two tablets of stone upon which Moses had engraved the words God spoke to him on Mount Horeb. The priests brought the ark into the sanctuary under the wings of stone cherubs. And it is said that when the ark was laid in that place, the stone cherubim stretched their stone wings, covering the ark.

The torches went out. The candles blew out. There was darkness in the temple, and no man spoke. For they knew that God had entered His house and stood there in a cloud so that He might not blind them with His radiance. Standing there in that thick darkness, Solomon heard a voice: “This is a rich and gorgeous house you have built for me. But you know that my real dwelling place is in man’s heart. And, in time to come, if the children of Israel turn from my way, then this strong house will be cast down; it will be torn apart stone from stone, and passersby will hiss at the place where once it stood But, O Solomon, I have heard your prayer and supplication. And I have hallowed this house that you have built, and my name shall be here forever, and my eyes and heart be here perpetually.”

The darkness departed. All was bright again. And the people feasted and rejoiced.

Like his father, David, Solomon reigned for forty years. He became the most powerful king in the world, and Israel the strongest nation. Nevertheless, as happens to many kings, Solomon lost his wisdom before he lost his power. In his old age, when his wits were befuddled, he allowed some of his young concubines to tempt him into the worship of Ashteroth. He raised strange altars, and dedicated them with orgies.

Whereupon the spirit of God departed from him; he sickened and died. And, after his death, ten tribes of Israel revolted against his son and the kingdom was divided—never again to be united.

A
FTER SOLOMON, WHEN ISRAEL
was divided and both thrones were occupied by a series of weak and wicked kings, moral authority passed to those angry old men who came to be known as the prophets.

Who were these prophets? They were men who in some way had tapped that vein of intellectual and moral energy that they called the holy spirit, and through private vision had gained access to God’s moods and intentions. Their courage was so total that they did not even think of themselves as courageous. They thought of themselves simply as God’s messengers, and, after coming away from that gigantic presence, everyone else, including kings and queens, seemed very small indeed.

It was not only kings they outraged. They preached against lawlessness and sinfulness wherever they found it, and they found it everywhere. The mob hated them as much as the courtiers did; they were often stoned in the streets. Nevertheless, they persisted, warning the people of Israel that an angry and disappointed God would return them to the exile and slavery from which He had taken them, and embroidering their predictions with hideous detail of the disasters to come. That their dire prophecies proved totally accurate did not make them more popular.

The great names that have come down to us are Elijah, Elisha, Isaiah, Jonah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel. Perhaps the most remarkable of these men was Elijah.