Rising Darkness (31 page)

Bethlehem, 4 B.C.

Gabriel recalled that bloody day outside Jerusalem. It was interesting to hear Eli’s description of the battle. How different the perspectives of humans and of angels! Looking now into the sky, which was filling with angels and creating a milky haze over Bethlehem, Gabriel could only think of how many more angels were here tonight than on that bloody night when Sennacherib’s army was destroyed.

He looked at Bakka, who was now seated next to Daniel. He was glad to see that Bakka was beginning to take a greater interest in his assignment. Bakka looked up at Gabriel and smiled.

“I am learning a great deal about this man,” said Bakka. “His family is one of the Levites. They had been in the priesthood but left it at some point.”

“Yes, I know,” said Gabriel. “I told you that he was an interesting assignment.”

“But I’m not certain what the assignment is yet,” said Bakka.

“Keep learning,” said Gabriel. “It will become evident.”

Eli looked down at the two boys who were now both asleep.

“Looks like my stories were not interesting enough to help them make it through the whole evening,” he said humorously.

Daniel looked down also. Both of the boys’ fathers were taking their watch at that moment. The other shepherds were also asleep. Daniel looked around as if wanting to make sure that they were quite alone. He leaned in to Eli.

“My fathers were part of the reason for our nation’s destruction,” he said, almost whispering. “I bear that shame.”

Eli considered the man with whom he was speaking. Daniel had always been an outsider among the shepherds—never entering into fellowship with the others, keeping mainly to himself. Now he seemed to be opening up as a result of the conversation that had been going on all night.

Perhaps the images of Israel’s holy history in which man came so close to having a relationship with his Creator, only to throw it all away, had touched a chord in his failed heritage. If indeed Daniel’s family had been in the priesthood, then the burden he carried for the nation’s destruction was understandable, though without real complicity. Eli hoped to encourage the man for whom he was beginning to have compassion.

“How is it that one man’s family could bring down a nation?” posed Eli in a very general way, as if he himself were trying to figure it all out. “The prophet said that we all like sheep have strayed from the Lord’s fold—not just one family.”

Daniel nodded that he understood Eli’s direction.

“I know that my family is as guilty as any other in Israel,” said Daniel. “And I know that they are no more guilty than the rest of the nation.” He looked at Eli intently, tears welling up in his eyes. “But I know that one person can make a difference in a nation’s history. You have spoken of such men and women this night. I only wonder why someone in my family could not have made a difference.”

He stood up and turned away from Eli toward Bethlehem. He pointed at the star that loomed overhead. Eli looked at the star as well.

“Some people point to such things as that star, which has recently appeared, and say that it is a sign of great tragedy to come; or perhaps that it signifies some great event that will occur. I wonder if perhaps we should look within…maybe the answer we seek is somehow in our hearts and not in our history?”

Eli was silent for a moment.

“Daniel, you are more philosopher than shepherd,” he said amusedly. “Perhaps the heritage of your family cannot be so easily dismissed—there is very much the priest alive in you.”

Daniel managed a sincere smile—albeit a halfway one.

“By that I mean you are speaking like a prophet yourself!”

Daniel looked at Eli with a curious expression.

“Jeremiah,” said Eli. “He too spoke of knowing the Lord through the heart and not just through custom. ‘I will give them a heart to know Me,’ he said. ‘They will be My people and I will be their God, for they will return to Me with all their heart.’ Sounds very much like what you are saying.”

Daniel thought about this for a moment. How wonderful it would be to know God in one’s heart rather than through men and temples and law and…Yet how could that happen? Apart from the law and traditions of their fathers there was no other way to the heart of God.

“Yet we have strayed like lost sheep,” said Daniel. “And our nation is no longer free. We are a captive people. Look at Bethlehem—filled beyond capacity because of the whims of an emperor who declares a census throughout his realm. How can such a divided and conquered people hope to know the God they abandoned so long ago?”

“How indeed?” said Eli. “And yet, Daniel, we must have hope that someday the Coming One shall present the answers to us. We must believe the prophets. Like that star—perhaps one day the King will appear and bring light to a darkened nation.”

“Perhaps,” said Daniel sullenly. “But they did not hear the prophets. Will they now welcome the King who comes?”

Eli had no answer. He had wondered the same thing many times. He could only hope that when the King arrived, He would set things right as only He would be able to.

“I can only hope, Daniel, that when the King arrives, we shall know it,” Eli said. “I hope that it shall be on a day in which we are all looking for Him. I hope that it will be as obvious as that star you keep speaking of.”

“And just as bright,” said Daniel, looking up into the sky.

Michael had ordered his angels to fan out in front of Mary and Joseph as they entered the town. Only a few townspeople and some soldiers were out and about. Roman officials who were assigned to Bethlehem for the census sat at a table outside a small tavern. In front of them was a long line.

Joseph left Mary and walked to the official, who was taking information from an older man. The official looked at Joseph.

“Get to the end of the line,” he barked.

“I am Joseph, of the tribe of Judah. I am here to report for the census. The woman who is with me is not well,” he said. “Might we move to the front of the line?”

The official looked at a soldier who came over and escorted Joseph back to the end of the long line. Mary remained on the donkey in obvious discomfort.

“I’m not sure how much longer,” she said. She was beginning to perspire heavily.

“I will find us a place to stay,” Joseph said. “Then we’ll take care of the census.”

“Hurry, my love,” said Mary.

Michael remained with Mary as Joseph disappeared into an alley to seek out a place where she might have her baby. The angels gathered around Bethlehem numbered in the thousands. He had done all that he could to protect this couple—especially the woman who carried within her the hope of the world.

“Michael! Michael!”

Michael turned to see Gabriel, surprised to see the archangel in Bethlehem. He knew that Gabriel had been with the shepherds nearby.

“Gabriel,” said Michael. “Welcome. What a glorious night!”

“Yes, glorious,” agreed Gabriel. “Many lives will change this night. But I came to tell you something of great interest. Something about Lucifer!”

“Lucifer?” asked Michael. “What has he to do with this night?”

“He is here,” said Gabriel. “And he wishes to meet with you.”

Chronicles of the Host

Babylon, 587 B.C.

The temple of Marduk, in Babylon, was Nebuchadnezzar’s proudest achievement. Ever since taking the throne from his father, Nabopolasser, who had founded this newest and greatest Babylonian empire, Nebuchadnezzar knew he was destined to play an eternal role in human history. He wanted to be remembered not as a conqueror, but as a civilizer—one who brought Babylonian culture to the world and transformed the world into a Chaldean image!

Since the destruction of Assyria at the battle at Carchemish, the empire had been expanding steadily. Syria, Palestine, even Egypt were under the control or influence of Babylon. Surely his father would be proud of how things were going. All of this brought Nebuchadnezzar back to his thoughts of the great temple of Marduk.

Strolling along the balcony of his palace, the king looked over the city of his fathers. Since his first days as king, Nebuchadnezzar had set himself to recapturing and surpassing the former glory of Babylon. He had built great ziggurats that served as both temples and astronomical observatories. Most impressive of all was his recreation of the famed Tower of Babel, an enormous tower some 295 feet tall, which dominated the Babylonian skyline. The famous Hanging Gardens, a complex of concentric squares with lush palm trees and green shrubs that he was ever tinkering with as a gift for his wife, had become a legend throughout the world. He had much to be proud of. And yet….