Ernest Dempsey
The Jerusalem Creed
Prologue
Chaos raged through the streets of the ancient walled city. Women ran with tear-filled faces through the dusty alleyways and thoroughfares, hauling screaming children with them. Able-bodied men were issued swords to help defend the walls, some lucky enough to also receive a shield. Supplies were limited, so many were only equipped with farm tools as weapons. Even some of the older men were ushered to the walls to defend the city, despite their confused and bewildered complaints.
Their king, a noncommittal man by the name of Jehoiakim, had pledged allegiance to Babylon after the pagan king Nebuchadnezzar II had defeated Pharaoh Neco at the Battle of Carchemish several years before. When the Babylonian king failed in his attempt to invade Egypt, Jehoiakim had flip-flopped back to an alliance with Egypt once more.
The high priest, an old man named Tovar, had warned against making an allegiance with any pagan kings, telling Jehoiakim that God had forbidden any such alliance.
Now, their city and its people were paying the price for the king’s disobedience. Nebuchadnezzar had laid siege to Jerusalem, the last stronghold of the Jewish nation. Now, after several weeks of strangling the city, his armies were raining down on the walls from the surrounding hills.
Tovar stared up into the late afternoon sky from his quarters at the temple. The blazing sun seemed to provide no warmth, even though the day itself was as hot as he could remember for that time of year. He knew the Babylonian tactics, perhaps better than Jehoiakim himself. This attack would be the first of several waves. They would withdraw to reinforce themselves, strengthen their numbers, and then return at first light when the Israelites were in a slumber of false security.
He felt the presence of someone on the balcony with him, and he turned around. His two assistants stood in the doorway with pained looks on their faces. Both were in their early twenties and outstanding scholars of the Scriptures. If their nation were to live on, one of them would make an excellent high priest someday. Tovar knew, however, that day would never come.
“Master,” the one on the left, a dark-haired man with thick eyebrows named Lamesh, spoke first. “The Babylonians are attacking. We must get you to safety at once.”
The other one had slightly lighter hair. With his youthful face, he still looked to be in his teens. He went by the name Daniel, and he had shown great promise as an adviser to the high priest, and the king. He’d been taken as a hostage during Nebuchadnezzar’s first campaign against Israel, one that had ended much more peacefully than this one would. When he spoke, it was with a calm demeanor.
“Master Tovar, Lamesh is right. You must get to safety. The Babylonian king will not be as kind as he was seven years ago when he came here.”
Lamesh nodded in agreement.
A woman screamed from down below. Tovar glanced over the balcony wall to the street and saw her spinning around in the mass hysteria, her dark-blue robes twirling in the dust. She was screaming a name, probably that of her child who had been lost in the madness.
He returned his gaze to the two young men. “My days have been long. I have seen more sadness and grief come to our people than I ever cared to. I fear it will only grow worse after this night passes.”
“Which is why we must get you safe passage into the mountains. There is talk of a stronghold where you will be protected from the sword of Nebuchadnezzar.” Lamesh meant well, but he was wrong. Any rebel outpost would soon be laid to waste, just like the capital.
“I have a far more important mission for the two of you,” Tovar said, his eyes narrowing as he looked from one to the other. Their faces skewed with concern, but they listened respectfully. “Follow me.”
With a quickness they’d never seen from their high priest, Tovar swooshed by the two of them, his white robes and ephod flowing dramatically behind him. The two followed, uncertain where he was taking them, but with the knowledge that they were not to question, merely obey, whatever his orders might be.
He led the way through the white stone halls, past enormous marble columns and flaming sconces that kept the interior illuminated. High above the hall, cedar timbers blocked out the sun, providing a perpetually cool temperature within the temple walls. Guards were stationed at various points of entry to protect the sacred center of worship.
They reached the end of the massive corridor and turned right, heading past the dormitories and behind the main courtyard toward Tovar’s personal quarters. Even as his pace quickened, the high priest gazed upon the majesty of the temple’s interior for fear that it might be the last time his eyes beheld it in this state. It had withstood hundreds of years of war, famine, pestilence, and political unrest. The work King Solomon had done would soon be gone. Nothing could stop that now.
Inside, the sounds of pandemonium had quieted; only a few muffled prayers could be heard coming from the priestly cells as they passed by open doorways.
At the end of the narrow passage, they reached a gilded door. Tovar twisted the circular latch and pushed it open. The two younger men stopped short of the threshold, daring not enter into the high priest's quarters. It was forbidden for anyone other than him to do so.
He motioned for them to follow, but they hesitated.
“We are not permitted, master,” Daniel said respectfully.
Tovar, a few feet inside his suite, motioned again with his hand. His face expressed kindness but firm resolve. “Our laws will soon be at an end, young Daniel. Breaking them now will bring you no punishment from me, or our feeble king.”
Lamesh and Daniel looked at each other, still uncertain whether or not they should obey their master’s order, then reluctantly stepped into the suite.
The room was much larger than the other dormitory cells in the temple. Vibrant blue curtains hung next to the windows. A cedar bureau sat against the wall near a closet, the home to Tovar’s priestly vestments. A much smaller chest, made from pure gold, sat against the wall on the other side of the bed. Prayers were engraved on it in Hebrew. Atop the lid was a golden sculpture of an angel. Once again, the sounds of panic drifted to their ears from outside. In spite of the lavish apartment, the bed was simple: made from beech wood and covered with plain white sheets and pillows.
Tovar moved swiftly over to the golden chest and removed the lid, carefully placing it on the floor next to two of the claw-shaped legs. The two younger men watched with wide eyes as Tovar removed an item they had seen many times on the chest of the priest’s ephod. He reverently set the object on the foot of the bed and returned to the chest, hurriedly grabbing a small goatskin bag cinched at the top with a leather strap. He set it down next to the other object and put the lid back on the chest.
“Master, what are you doing? It isn’t time for you to go into the Holy Place?” His associate echoed Daniel’s look of concern.
“I am not going there, Daniel.” He stood erect and faced his apprentices. “My friends, my loyal servants, I have a final request for you that is of the highest order.” The two listened closely, taking in every word as if each was the last drop of water in a drying desert oasis. “Tomorrow morning, Nebuchadnezzar will take this city. When he does, the first two places he will send his men will be the palace and the temple. They will steal and loot everything they perceive to be of value. Daniel, you have spent the last seven years in the service of the Babylonian king. You know this to be true.”
Daniel nodded but said nothing. He had become a trusted adviser to Nebuchadnezzar, though his true loyalty would always be to the one true God of Israel. It was why he’d requested that the king allow him one last visit to the temple before the second attack came in the morning. He too knew that the first attack on the city walls was merely preliminary. The carnage that would come with the morning would be swift and merciless.