The Last Temple

by Hank Hanegraaff

  Instead of speaking, Ben-Aryeh answered by walking to the royal banner and yanking it loose from where it was attached to small spikes near the ceiling. Behind it was an elaborate mosaic of small, gleaming tiles set in a tall, rectangular pattern with the seven candles of a menorah at the center, as if the entire piece was a giant painting.

  Ben-Aryeh looked at Vitas. “Now.”

  Vitas didn’t understand at first but saw that Ben-Aryeh was fumbling with the token around his neck. Vitas did the same.

  Ben-Aryeh held out his hand, and Vitas gave him the token.

  The older man turned to the wall. Vitas could not help but step to the side to see what was happening.

  Ben-Aryeh inserted the tokens into nearly invisible slots in the center of the mosaic, where the tiles formed a circle that represented the base of the menorah.

  He pushed his palm against the circle of tiles, and with a clicking sound, the circle moved inward a couple of inches.

  “I’m told by a tradition handed down only among the leading priests of my circles,” Ben-Aryeh said, “that the workmen who completed this for Herod were slain so this would always remain secret. I find it fortunate that he chose stoneworkers from Egypt for the task.”

  Ben-Aryeh didn’t wait for a reply. He moved to his left, and where the mosaic patterns ended, he leaned against the wall. Slowly, it shifted inward as the right side of the mosaic pattern moved outward.

  He kept pushing until the entire piece, hinged in the center at the top and bottom, was turned ninety degrees to the main wall.

  It exposed the darkness of a tunnel, a couple of paces wide and two or three hands higher than the height of a tall man.

  “We have no torches,” Ben-Gioras said.

  Ben-Aryeh walked in a few steps, shuffled around, then came out with an armful of torches.

  “The flints are on the floor,” Ben-Aryeh told Ben-Gioras, who pointed at one of the young men and waved at him to get them.

  Ben-Aryeh passed off his armful to another of the young Levites and kept one torch for himself. After he lit the torch, he said, “Only one torch. We’ll need to keep the others with us as replacements.” He stepped back inside. “I’ll lead the way.”

  Hora Quinta

  They’d been walking for five minutes when Ben-Aryeh spoke to Vitas. “Since the time of David, there have been tunnels beneath the city. Only the leading priests know about this one. Soon enough, it will take us into a larger tunnel. You need to remember the return route, as I may not come back with you.”

  Ben-Aryeh gripped Vitas by the wrist and squeezed tightly. “No questions, though. You’ll have your answers when we get there.”

  The air was cool and dry, the ground beneath them hard-packed dirt. Vitas had heard rumors of the tunnels. Anyone who visited Jerusalem had. By the slight downward angle of their travels, he felt they were heading toward the lower city. He guessed the Levites were there to protect them once they left the tunnel, but beyond that, he had to bide his curiosity.

  It didn’t take them long to reach the end of this tunnel. Ben-Aryeh, still carrying his torch, leaned into the wall blocking them. Like the entrance, it was hinged in the center and turned at an angle to let all of them step into a larger tunnel.

  “We leave this open too,” Ben-Aryeh said. They had left the hinged wall open at Herod’s palace as well. Two things were obvious to Vitas. They would be returning to Herod’s palace. And Ben-Gioras had ceded command to Ben-Aryeh.

  Ben-Aryeh’s torch was nearly exhausted, and he motioned for another. Once the second torch was lit, he extinguished the first against the wall of the tunnel.

  They resumed their march, no man speaking. For most of the remainder of their twisting, turning journey, the only sounds were of sandals against dirt, flames licking the oil of the torch, and breathing.

  When Ben-Aryeh stopped them to light the third torch from the second, Vitas finally heard some different sounds. Faint as they were, the sounds were unmistakable.

  As they resumed their journey, those sounds grew louder and louder, telling Vitas their destination—for the shrieks and screams came from the fighting for possession of Antonia.

  He’d guessed wrong when he thought they would be leaving the tunnel somewhere in the lower city.

  Instead, they were almost beneath the Temple.

  When Ben-Aryeh stopped one more time, he pushed the torch close to the wall of the tunnel and examined the wall as he moved a few steps back and forth.

  Vitas heard him grunt slightly with satisfaction.

  “Take this,” Ben-Aryeh said to Vitas, handing him the torch. “Hold it close for me.”

  Vitas did so, aware of how silent the men were behind him and equally aware of the sounds of battle that carried down to them.

  He watched Ben-Aryeh use the same two tokens that had triggered the opening of the wall in Herod’s palace, running his fingers over the stone until he found where the tokens fit.

  This time, when a wall hinged in the center pushed to ninety degrees to permit a large opening, Vitas was not surprised. The torchlight showed that beyond, the steps upward were made of polished white marble.

  “We are here,” Ben-Aryeh announced to all of them. “Once we go up these steps, there is no turning back. Each of you will be committed to give up your life to protect what must never be lost to our people. Speak now if you are not prepared to do so. And until we return to this spot, not a single word must be spoken, for we are about to enter into the presence of the almighty God.”

  “I trust each one of these fighters with my life,” Ben-Gioras growled. “Let’s move. Time is short.”

  Vitas saw that three steps up, the wide stairs ended at a platform. It was long enough and wide enough that it could have held Ben-Aryeh, Ben-Gioras, Vitas, and the Levites, but the ceiling was so low that all of the men would have had to crouch. What looked like a wooden box rested on the platform.

  Speaking to Vitas, Ben-Aryeh said, “You may go no farther. I love you as a brother or a son, but you are a Gentile. You are not permitted in the Kodesh Hakodashim. Do you understand?”

  The Kodesh Hakodashim. The Holy of Holies.

  Vitas knew the name from what he had learned during his marriage to Sophia. It was located at the westernmost end of the Temple building. A perfect cube: ten cubits by ten cubits by ten cubits. No one but the high priest was allowed to enter, and that but once a year to offer the blood of sacrifice and incense. It was a symbolic place, Sophia had explained, and completely empty.

  “Although you must remain here, you are about to learn something that has been kept secret for centuries,” Ben-Aryeh told Vitas. “Our written records state that the Ark could not be found when our people rebuilt the Temple at the time of Ezra and Zechariah. The explanation for our people was that Jeremiah hid the Ark in a cave in Mount Nebo and that its location would be revealed only when God was ready for it to be found.”

  He put a hand on Vitas’s shoulder. “It was not a lie, only a half-truth. Where else should the Ark be but in the Holy of Holies? And that is where it was placed, without letting it be known—for the secrecy protects it, and there is nothing of greater value to our people.”

  “Pompey found it empty,” Vitas said. When the Roman general had conquered Jerusalem over a century before, he’d demanded to be allowed into the Holy of Holies, only to come out again, puzzled that an empty room would have so much significance to the Jews.

  “You think we would desecrate it by allowing our conqueror into its presence?” Ben-Aryeh said. “We are standing below a drop door built into the floor above us, of such craftsmanship that it is seamless and invisible. It was built so no conqueror would ever find the Ark. For Pompey, we moved it here, where we stand now, before he entered. For Titus, we do the same. Except with Titus, we dare not leave it below the Holy of Holies but must find a place for it elsewhere, to protect it forever.”

  Vitas’s curiosity intensified, and he watched closely as Ben-Aryeh walked the steps with Ben-Gior
as. Using the same tokens, Ben-Aryeh found two slit openings in the low ceiling that turned another lock.

  Slowly, the ceiling dropped like a lengthwise door, but because the Holy of Holies was in total darkness, not a single ray of light filtered down the steps. When the door finished moving, it hung vertically. The light of the torch showed that the side facing Ben-Aryeh had two steps. Vitas caught a glimpse of a raised platform through the opening in the room above them. He visualized that when the door was shut, it would be part of the floor, and those steps would seem a natural way to reach that platform in the room above.

  Ben-Gioras waved the Levites to ascend. When the final two had entered the room above, Ben-Gioras and Ben-Aryeh handed the wooden box upward. From the ease with which they lifted it, Vitas guessed it was empty.

  Ben-Aryeh held the torch, climbed the steps into the room, and stood in front of a rectangular object, about the size of the empty wooden box. There was just enough illumination for Vitas to see that this new object had the dull shine of gold.

  Hora Sexta

  In the daylight of the room in Herod’s palace, when the Levites set down the object they had transported through the subterranean passage from the Holy of Holies, Vitas first saw clearly the clever construction of the wooden box.

  The bottom portion, now resting on the tiled floor, was essentially a large, shallow tray. At each end, two half circles had been cut into the edges of this tray, as near to the sides as possible.

  The upper portion of the box was like a roof, with walls that had been set upon the lower tray. Half circles had been cut out of the bottom edges, precisely matching those on the tray below.

  When the rooflike structure rested on the tray, these circles allowed poles to pass through the box; the Levites had used these poles—overlaid with gold—to carry the box through the tunnel.

  The top and bottom were latched together in places, forming an outer shell that protected the object inside.

  All told, the rectangular box was about two paces long and barely one pace wide, and the height was the same as the width. The box itself wasn’t heavy; Vitas had seen that earlier when it had gone upward into the Holy of Holies. Leaving the Holy of Holies, however, the Levites had strained under its weight.

  He knew it had great value because the men around him were staring at the outer shell with awe and fascination on their faces.

  Ben-Aryeh broke the silence by speaking to Ben-Gioras. “If these Levites are going to their deaths, it is only fitting that they see in full daylight the reason for their sacrifice. In the Holy of Holies, there was not light to give the Ark its glory.”

  Each stared at the other, and finally Ben-Gioras nodded. He stepped forward and began to open the latches. When that was finished, he spoke to the Levites. “Take your places around it, and remove the top as carefully as you added it. If any of you cause the box to touch it, or if any of you lay a hand upon it, the others will slay you.”

  They stepped forward, some of them sweating visibly, others with shaking hands. And when they lifted the lid, sunlight hit the sacred chest and Vitas gasped at the beauty of it. Some of the young Levites began to weep, and all of them fell to their knees.

  With the upper shell removed, Vitas saw that the poles on each side ran through gold rings, two on each side, and that the poles supported the object. With the ends of the poles resting in the half circles of the shallow lower tray, no portion of the object had touched the shell.

  Vitas felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Ben-Aryeh, pressing him down to his knees too, alongside Ben-Gioras, who had already knelt.

  On his knees, in utter silence shared with the others, Vitas felt an incredible sense of awe. The entire object was overlaid with pure gold, and a crowning wreath of more gold served as an artistic border all around it. It had a cover of solid gold, the full length and breadth of the chest. Mounted at each end of this cover were two cherubs of hammered gold; the cherubs faced each other, heads bowed, wings extending upward and overspreading the object.

  All of them remained bowing, and time seemed to stop. They only rose when Ben-Aryeh gestured for the Levites to put the lid back on this object, and it wasn’t until then that Vitas became aware he’d been on the floor so long his knees hurt.

  No one spoke until the Levites had secured the plain wooden cover back on the bottom tray and it was latched completely shut again. At Ben-Aryeh’s direction, they wrapped the outer shell and the poles in blankets.

  “You will fight to your deaths today?” Ben-Aryeh asked quietly.

  Vitas saw that the faces of the Levites glowed with holy fervor. To a man, each Levite nodded. Many of them still wept, not from sorrow, but joy.

  “Send for the other Levites,” Ben-Aryeh told Ben-Gioras. “We are all ready.”

  “Not yet,” Ben-Gioras said. He nodded at two of the men closest to Vitas, and they seized him before he could react. They held his arms with such strength that he was effectively pinned between them.

  “The Roman must die,” Ben-Gioras said. He pulled out a short dagger and advanced on Vitas. “For he has seen it too.”

  Ben-Aryeh reacted calmly. “If he dies, then the Ark of the Covenant is lost to us forever.”

  Ben-Gioras was close enough when he answered that Vitas could feel the man’s breath hot against his face. “Our own Levites are commanded to die in battle today to protect this secret, and yet you say the Roman must live?”

  “The only safe passage for the Ark is through him. The escort of Roman soldiers waiting with camels will not move unless he accompanies the Ark.”

  “They are expecting a group of our men to be with the Ark, are they not?”

  Ben-Aryeh nodded.

  “Our Levites will slay the Roman soldiers and take the camels themselves.”

  “Jerusalem is surrounded by sentries. Without Vitas and his seal of authorization from Titus, the Ark won’t make it more than a mile before the camels are stopped.”

  “The gold,” Ben-Gioras protested. “What’s to stop him from ambushing our Levites and dividing it among the soldiers? What’s to stop him from delivering it directly to Titus?”

  Ben-Aryeh spoke in a conciliatory tone. “Ben-Gioras, you know the military situation. If we lose our final battle and the Ark is still here, it is most certainly lost to our people forever. It is far too late into the war against the Romans for Jews alone to accomplish the task of hiding it safely. With the city surrounded by entire legions, only someone who has influence with Titus is capable of giving safe transport.”

  “But how can we trust this man?”

  “We have to trust someone in his position,” Ben-Aryeh said. “That is inescapable. Of any Roman, he is the one. He is married to a Jew. He is not driven by greed but by justice. I’ve spent years with this man. He understands what is at stake, and I trust him with my life.”

  Ben-Gioras threw his dagger down in disgust, and to Vitas, the sound of its clattering on the tiles was the sound of life.

  “Let him go,” Ben-Gioras said reluctantly to the two Levites who held Vitas.

  Immediately he was freed.

  Ben-Gioras took a deep breath and spoke to the young men, moving his eyes from face to face. “All of you, by agreeing to help preserve the Ark until the return of our Messiah, have willingly agreed to sacrifice your lives. Not a single person alive will know of your nobleness and love for God. Each of us must someday die, and you have chosen a time and place and reason for death that surpasses the lives you give today.”

  Ben-Gioras paused, measuring each of the men.

  When he was satisfied with what he saw, he gave them a final command. “Go. Return through the tunnel, back to the Temple. Join the defenders and throw yourselves into the thickest and most dangerous part of battle. And before you die, make sure you each take the lives of a dozen Romans with you.”

  Hora Septina

  Vitas and Ben-Aryeh stood alone in the room in Herod’s palace with the Ark covered by its wooden shell and wrapped in blankets.<
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  “You did not know what object I was asking you to protect when you made your promise to me,” Ben-Aryeh said. “And now that you’ve seen it, I will not ask you to assure me that you intend to keep your promises. I spoke truly to Ben-Gioras. You are the only Roman alive I would trust with this.”

  “The Ark,” Vitas said, still barely able to comprehend. “Sophia said it had been lost during the Babylonian captivity. That in the Holy of Holies, a platform had been raised to signify where it would have rested.”

  “We learned from the destruction of the first Temple. The high priests decided long, long ago that the best way to protect the Ark was through secrecy. As we are doing now. Ben-Gioras will never reveal it and expects to die in battle. Those young men will die today as pledged, so no one will know of its existence. The new group of Levites who will lower it from the tower won’t even see that the poles are plated with gold. They only know your task is to escort them far away from Jerusalem until it is safe for them to leave you and the soldiers. They will take it to a cave in the desert. To break that chain of knowledge, after they leave, those of us in the small circle of priests who know about it will go there and move it somewhere else until it is safe to return it to the Holy of Holies. Titus has vowed to preserve the Temple, and from everything you have told me, he means to fulfill that vow.”

  “I find it strange you allowed me to remain in this room while you showed the Levites the purpose of their sacrifice.”

  “You will never know the cave where it was placed or where we have moved it after.”

  “Even so, you didn’t have to let me see it.”

  Ben-Aryeh put a hand on Vitas’s shoulder. “For what you are doing, there is not enough all the Jews could do to repay you. There is no other object in the entire world as sacred, and by protecting it, you will ensure that God will always be among us. For if this Temple is destroyed, we can build another to hold the Ark.”

  Ben-Aryeh stepped back and moved toward the hinged wall that was still open. Standing at the opening, he continued speaking. “Vitas, we cannot repay you for this. Ever. I pray that you will live to be an old man surrounded by grandchildren. I believe if you had not seen what was inside, you would have wondered your entire life what was at stake. If I did wrong by letting you know, then I call God’s wrath solely upon me.”