THE KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE
THE
KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE
By
Robert Allen
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
The royal wedding for King Joash and
Queen Haggith took place one month later on a beautiful summer day in
Jerusalem. No feast had been planned
like the one when he married Jehoaddan.
No one wrote epic songs of praise in honor of the new couple. Jehoaddan’s grandfather succeeded in closing
the national purse to prevent such a celebration. Instead Haggith traveled from her home in
Ramah to Jerusalem in the company of her parents instead of the traditional
group of bridesmaids. In the presence of
Jehoiada a single gold coin exchanged hands along with a writ of covenant
promising Haggith a life-time income should anything happen to the king.
Joash fought hard to honor her with
a feast. He desired all of Jerusalem to
see her beauty on display but this time he lost to Jehoaddan’s grandfather in
front of the council. Jehoiada finally
convinced him that the wedding itself held greater importance than the
celebration. King Joash listened to the
priest but left the council even more determined to assert his will in future
negotiations.
Everyone in the temple rejoiced with
the success of the collection now that the chest sat in the courtyard. Once each day the king’s scribe and a
priestly representative counted the money and stored it safely away in the
temple treasury. Money, gold bracelets,
silver earrings, brass plates and bowls all appeared in the chest and very soon
Joash announced the beginning of the temple restoration project.
“Find me the best carpenters in all
the land,” he said to the council. ‘No
second-rate workmen for the house of the Lord.
God’s house must be restored the glory of the days of King Solomon.”
In order to find the best workmen
they announced a contest. Carpenters
from every part of the land came to Jerusalem with chairs, tables, candlesticks
and cradles. A carefully chosen panel of
judges inspected the items and announced the winners. Since stone masons couldn’t bring walls and
houses and watchtowers to the capital city, the judges for that part of the
contest traveled into the countryside to inspect their work. Goldsmiths displayed elaborately decorated
rings, necklaces of delicate filigree and finely examples of finely beaten gold
leaf. Brass workers offered candlesticks
and dishes, pots and vases for judging.
One contestant entered a small image
of a golden calf, but judges disqualified the entry on the basis of its
symbolic meaning. That really didn’t
bother the man because he made so much money selling his figures that he really
couldn’t afford to take time off to work on the temple.
Most of the craftsmen considered it
a great privilege to have an opportunity to work on restoring Solomon’s
temple. They desired to win and worked
hard to perfect every item they submitted to the judges. When they announced the winners those men
eagerly started to work. First they inspected
every room in the temple and compiled a list of work to be accomplished. Walls needed to be repaired, roofs had leaks
to be patched, and gold and silver decorations stolen by the Arabians and Queen
Athaliah had to be replaced.
From the completed list each man
chose a task most suited to his expertise.
The sound of work began early each morning and continued throughout the
entire day on the temple mount. King
Joash rode over daily to inspect the progress and consult with the priest
Jehoiada had chosen to provide oversight.
But other matters demanded the
attention of the king as well. For one
thing, he had become a father. Jehoaddan
sent for him to come to her chamber one morning after breakfast. The strange request followed months where she
had simply ignored him after his wedding to Haggith. Entering the room he saw her standing over a
small cradle gazing proudly down at the biggest baby Joash could ever
remembering seeing. Of course, he really
hadn’t seen that many babies.
“Joash. Meet your son, your first-born son.”
The king realized immediately the
cause for her joy. Not only had she
given birth to a son, her son stood first in line to inherit the kingdom. She remained jealous of Haggith’s beauty, but
she had given the king something Haggith could never achieve. She would forever remain not only the first
among the royal queens, but would now be the mother of the next king to
reign.
“A boy? My very own son?” The king stood over the crib and tried to
figure out how to take the child out of his bed. Should he pick him up by the scruff of the
neck like the cats who roamed the palace gardens? Should he grab him by the legs like you would
a chicken trying to escape? Neither of
those options seemed quite right.
“Hmm,” he turned to the queen. “How do you work him?”
Jehoaddan smiled sweetly, glad to
have the king’s attention once again.
She privately rejoiced that her son looked like Joash and not like
her. She knew what people said behind
her back and had checked his nose the very first thing after giving birth. Carefully she leaned over the cradle and
picked up her son, placing him gently into the arms of the king.
Joash stood stiffly, his arms
extended to the front, holding the child like a log of wood.
“What do I do with him now?”
Jehoaddan laughed and rescued the
infant before the nervous king could drop him.
“Nothing. I will care for him
until he is ready to stand by you as the prince of Judah. But you will need to give him a name.”
The king didn’t hesitate. Long before he had decided his son would bear
a name in memory of his grandfather.
“The boy will be named Amaziah.”
With the work on the temple nearly
complete, King Joash announced a celebration of re-dedication. A banquet would be held lasting for seven
days, starting each evening at sundown and lasting until well past
midnight. During the day sacrifices
would be offered at the temple, hundreds and hundreds of sacrifices. He planned to spread the word to the camel
drivers and invite them to stage a huge sale outside the city walls. The week would include holy days, fair,
circus and party all rolled into one.
“Everyone in the entire land of
Judah tells me they are excited to come,” he told Haggith. “Years have passed since a celebration of
this extent has been seen in the land.”
“Then why will I not be allowed at
the banquet,” pouted Haggith, her lower lip quivering.
“Because women don’t go to
banquets,” Josiah explained for the thirteenth time. He found it so difficult to say no to
Haggith, but women just didn’t attend banquets.
That would have broken tradition and the last queen who had broken
tradition had been Athaliah. “You could
have your own banquet,” he said.
Haggith stuck her lip out further
and started to cry. ‘I don’t want my own
banquet. I want to come to your
banquet. Queen Athaliah attended
banquets.”
“Of course she did. She didn’t have a king to tell her what was
right. You don’t want to be like her.”
“If you loved me you would let me
come.”
“I do love you. That’s why I can’t let you come. If the council heard you even suggest such a thing they would decide you are just like Athaliah and would make me send you back to Ramah. You know Jehoaddan’s grandfather hates you.”
“I do love you. That’s why I can’t let you come. If the council heard you even suggest such a thing they would decide you are just like Athaliah and would make me send you back to Ramah. You know Jehoaddan’s grandfather hates you.”
“Oh, Jehoaddan, go wave a fan,”
Haggith sulked. “She gets everything
just ‘cause you married her first.”
Large crocodile tears ran down her cheeks, smearing the dark circles around
her eyes which the fine ladies wore in imitation of Egyptian fashion.”
“No she doesn’t, dearest.” Joash could not stand the sight of
tears. “Please don’t cry. I’ll give you anything you want only please
don’t ask to come to the banquet.”
“All right,” she sniffled. ‘I won’t ask about the banquet again. There is something else I want.”
“Anything,” he promised. “Only please don’t cry anymore.”
“I haven’t been able to worship God
the way I used to before I came here to Jerusalem. The priests won’t allow me to take my
sacrifice into the holy place in the temple.”
Joash’s jaw dropped and his eyes
bugged nearly out of his head. “Into the
holy place? Haggith, you don’t know what
you are asking. I can’t give you
permission to enter the holy place even if I am the king. It is against the law of Moses.”
“You’re not listening to me,” she
said. “I can’t worship the way I used to
worship because no images of God exist in your temple. I used to worship visually, Joash. I need something to see when I pray or I just
can’t get into the mood to worship at all.
I need to see God.”
“But the law says….”
Once again the tears began to
flow. “You promised, Joash. You promised anything. I need a golden calf, one of my own, just to
keep in my own room. I won’t take it up
to the temple. I will even hide it from
the servants. No one will ever
know. Please, Joash, please.”
The king felt miserable. He loved Haggith and desired to please her,
to make her happy. Yet letting her
worship a golden calf, even in the privacy of her room, would violate every vow
he had ever made to Jehovah. Jehoiada
would be angry and God would….but he had promised.
“You really want your own
image? And you would use it in your
worship of Jehovah?”
“Of course. If you grant me this desire I will never ask
for another thing, never!”
“All right. But you must not purchase it here in
Jerusalem. I don’t want to know when or
where you buy it and I don’t want to know where you keep it here in the palace. If Jehoiada finds out I will swear that I
knew nothing about it.”
“Oh, thank you. I have a good friend in Ramah who will be
happy to buy one for me.”
“I said, I don’t want to know.”
“I understand, but I am so
excited. To have a god of my own again. One who listens just to me. I mean, to have an image of the one true God
so I can worship him better. Oh, thank
you Joash. Thank you.”
“Well, I hope that will make you
happy.
“Oh, it will Joash. It will.”
She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close and smothering him
with kisses.”
“Joash?”
‘Yes, Haggith?”
“Do you suppose I could have just a
little, bitty banquet of my own like you said?"
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