soothed the recesses of Solomon’s soul. “What do you propose?”
“I think a visit to Gibeon is in order,” he said to Benaiah, more a question than an answer.
“But we’ve just started mourning,” Ahishar quickly pointed out.
A full-fledged smile creased Benaiah’s face. “I’m the son of a priest, and I’ve never heard a law forbidding worship during the grieving period.”
A flutter of fear worked through Solomon’s belly. “Benaiah, tell me why Abba David seldom visited Gibeon. It seemed to me he was almost frightened of the Tent of Meeting housed at that most holy high place. Why did he worship only at the ark here in Jerusalem?”
“Your abba did fear the Lord.” Benaiah allowed a comfortable silence. “But he didn’t fear God at Gibeon alone. He was afraid many times during his reign as Israel’s king. When the Lord struck down Uzzah for steadying the ark on the oxcart—David feared Him. When the Lord punished King David and your ima by taking their firstborn son—David feared Him. And when your abba saw the angel of the Lord sheathe his sword and end the plague at the threshing floor in Jerusalem—King David feared ever inquiring of the Lord in His presence at the tabernacle of Gibeon.” Benaiah’s eyes were kind but piercing. “But the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, young Solomon. Go to Gibeon. Seek God’s presence. Be afraid. For it is in your fear that you will establish your own relationship with Jehovah. You don’t need to rule like King David to be a great king.”
Solomon’s heart raced. Benaiah’s words felt like spring water splashed on hot coals. Sizzling. Refreshing. Exhilarating. “Yes, my friend. Israel and I will go to Gibeon.”
“Israel?” Ahishar chirped. “So should I organize a processional, your majesty?”
Solomon chuckled. “No, Ahishar, but I will make an announcement to all the leaders still gathered in Jerusalem for Abba’s burial—the commanders, judges, and family leaders. All are welcome to join me in Gibeon, to seek Jehovah at the bronze altar before the Lord in the Tent of Meeting.”
“Yes, right. As you wish, my lord.” Ahishar took out his clay tablet and stylus, poised to record a list of the king’s next words. “I assume you’ll plan to leave after the first week of grieving restrictions have been lifted. The second stage of mourning is far more lenient. Perhaps by then, the Egyptian ambassador and your new bride will be more accustomed to their new surroundings and might even be inclined to join you, my lord. What exactly would you like me to plan for the Egyptians when they arrive?”
As Ahishar pressed the iron pen into damp clay, Solomon said, “I leave tomorrow morning, Ahishar. I will greet the ambassador and princess when their caravan enters the city after dawn, and I’ll ask them to break the fast with me.”
The steward’s hand began to shake.
“I will extend my deepest sympathies to Princess Sekhet at the loss of her abba and invite her to join me in the consolation of El Shaddai at Gibeon’s altar. If they refuse to accompany us, thereby refusing to honor King David’s death and his son’s grieving, they may remain in Jerusalem until I return in thirty days.” Solomon met Benaiah’s approving grin. “When I enter Jerusalem’s gates again, I will discuss our trade agreement with Egypt’s ambassador, and if the terms benefit both our nations, I will at that time establish the treaty and wed Princess Sekhet.”
Ahishar looked as if he had swallowed a bad fig. He let the clay block and stylus hang limp at his sides. “May I at least introduce to you the Daughters of Jerusalem, who are waiting to welcome your Egyptian princess and help with her transition to Jerusalem?”
Solomon smiled. He should have known his able steward would already be preparing for the wedding. “Yes! By all means,” he said, patting Ahishar’s shoulder. “Are they here now? Bring them in!”
Ahishar’s nod prompted
“I think a visit to Gibeon is in order,” he said to Benaiah, more a question than an answer.
“But we’ve just started mourning,” Ahishar quickly pointed out.
A full-fledged smile creased Benaiah’s face. “I’m the son of a priest, and I’ve never heard a law forbidding worship during the grieving period.”
A flutter of fear worked through Solomon’s belly. “Benaiah, tell me why Abba David seldom visited Gibeon. It seemed to me he was almost frightened of the Tent of Meeting housed at that most holy high place. Why did he worship only at the ark here in Jerusalem?”
“Your abba did fear the Lord.” Benaiah allowed a comfortable silence. “But he didn’t fear God at Gibeon alone. He was afraid many times during his reign as Israel’s king. When the Lord struck down Uzzah for steadying the ark on the oxcart—David feared Him. When the Lord punished King David and your ima by taking their firstborn son—David feared Him. And when your abba saw the angel of the Lord sheathe his sword and end the plague at the threshing floor in Jerusalem—King David feared ever inquiring of the Lord in His presence at the tabernacle of Gibeon.” Benaiah’s eyes were kind but piercing. “But the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, young Solomon. Go to Gibeon. Seek God’s presence. Be afraid. For it is in your fear that you will establish your own relationship with Jehovah. You don’t need to rule like King David to be a great king.”
Solomon’s heart raced. Benaiah’s words felt like spring water splashed on hot coals. Sizzling. Refreshing. Exhilarating. “Yes, my friend. Israel and I will go to Gibeon.”
“Israel?” Ahishar chirped. “So should I organize a processional, your majesty?”
Solomon chuckled. “No, Ahishar, but I will make an announcement to all the leaders still gathered in Jerusalem for Abba’s burial—the commanders, judges, and family leaders. All are welcome to join me in Gibeon, to seek Jehovah at the bronze altar before the Lord in the Tent of Meeting.”
“Yes, right. As you wish, my lord.” Ahishar took out his clay tablet and stylus, poised to record a list of the king’s next words. “I assume you’ll plan to leave after the first week of grieving restrictions have been lifted. The second stage of mourning is far more lenient. Perhaps by then, the Egyptian ambassador and your new bride will be more accustomed to their new surroundings and might even be inclined to join you, my lord. What exactly would you like me to plan for the Egyptians when they arrive?”
As Ahishar pressed the iron pen into damp clay, Solomon said, “I leave tomorrow morning, Ahishar. I will greet the ambassador and princess when their caravan enters the city after dawn, and I’ll ask them to break the fast with me.”
The steward’s hand began to shake.
“I will extend my deepest sympathies to Princess Sekhet at the loss of her abba and invite her to join me in the consolation of El Shaddai at Gibeon’s altar. If they refuse to accompany us, thereby refusing to honor King David’s death and his son’s grieving, they may remain in Jerusalem until I return in thirty days.” Solomon met Benaiah’s approving grin. “When I enter Jerusalem’s gates again, I will discuss our trade agreement with Egypt’s ambassador, and if the terms benefit both our nations, I will at that time establish the treaty and wed Princess Sekhet.”
Ahishar looked as if he had swallowed a bad fig. He let the clay block and stylus hang limp at his sides. “May I at least introduce to you the Daughters of Jerusalem, who are waiting to welcome your Egyptian princess and help with her transition to Jerusalem?”
Solomon smiled. He should have known his able steward would already be preparing for the wedding. “Yes! By all means,” he said, patting Ahishar’s shoulder. “Are they here now? Bring them in!”
Ahishar’s nod prompted
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