The Harbinger (29 page)

T
HE SEAL OF
the First Harbinger,” said Ana, “was of…what again?”

“The Breach,” he replied. “The opening in the wall…the removal of the hedge of protection.”

“But there had to be something else about it…something you didn’t notice at the beginning.”

“Exactly.”

“And did you find it?”

“Yes, after examining it carefully, yes, it actually took a magnifying glass to make out the details.”

“And what was it?”

“A very, very minute image at the bottom right-hand corner of the wall, a rectangle…a vertical rectangle…with a series of points running along the top as if some sort of crown.”

“And what did you make of it?” she asked.

“At first, nothing more than that, a crown on a box.”

“And what would a crown on a box signify?”

“I had no idea,” he said. “So I went searching through countless books, collections, and compilations on symbols and imagery. But nothing appeared to match, nothing that made any sense. And then I found it, by accident…not by accident but by what appeared to be an accident at the time. I’ve long lost my faith in accidents.”

“So what happened?”

“I was home, watching a documentary on ancient mysteries on television. And then it appeared on the screen.”

“The crown on the box?”

“Yes.”

“And what was it?”

“The Temple of Jerusalem. If you approached it from the front, that’s what it would look like…a vertical rectangle with a line of golden spikes on top.”

“And what did you make of it?”

“There was the Temple, and there was the breach. So putting it together…a breach…in the Temple.”

“A breach in the Temple of Jerusalem?”

“It couldn’t have been the Temple of Jerusalem,” he replied, “not literally. The mystery concerned America. So I took the Temple to be the representation of a holy place…a church…a synagogue…a shrine…some holy place.”

“A breach in a holy place?”

“Yes. So I began searching for anything having to do with a breach in a house of worship…and of significance for America.”

“And?”

“And after much searching…nothing. So I returned to Battery Park.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because it was there that the prophet first revealed the meaning of that first seal.”

“And…?”

“And nothing. Time passed. I was growing discouraged. And then something happened…a clue came to me…in a way nothing had ever come to me before.”

“What do you mean?”

“A dream. It came to me in a dream.”

“Interesting.”

“It was a dream of the Temple of Jerusalem. The day was sunny. The Temple courts were filled with people, multitudes…thousands and thousands of people dressed in robes, all gathered for some sort of event…some celebration. There was a procession. In the procession was a golden object. It had to be the Ark of the Covenant.

“How did you know it was the Ark of the Covenant?” she asked.

“I’ve seen the movies,” he replied. “There were musicians playing trumpets and harps and sounding cymbals as the people sang in worship. A cloud filled the Temple…not a regular cloud…but some kind of supernatural cloud of radiance. There was a man standing on some sort of platform near the Temple. He turned around to face the multitudes and began addressing them. It was the king—King Solomon.”

“And how did you know it was King Solomon?”

“He was wearing a crown and what seemed to be a royal robe of gold. And I just knew, the way you just know things in a dream…intuitively.”

“So King Solomon was speaking to the crowd…and saying what?”

“I couldn’t tell or understand. But after he finished speaking, he turned back toward the Temple, knelt down, covered his head with the golden robe, and lifted his hands to the sky. He was praying. He was leading the people in prayer. And as they prayed, I was walking through their midst…through crowds…toward the platform where the king was kneeling. I approached him. He was now just a few feet away from me. But I could only see him from the back since he was turned in the opposite direction. He stood up, still facing the Temple and with the golden robe still covering his head. And then he turned around, I saw his face…and it wasn’t him.”

“What do you mean
it wasn’t him
?” she asked.

“It wasn’t King Solomon anymore,” he answered.

“Then who was it?”

“It was Washington.”

“Washington…as in the president?”

“Washington,” said Nouriel, “as in George. He let the robe fall to his side. And he stood there on the platform looking just as you’d picture him—a white powdered wig, a dark brown waistcoat and breeches, white silk stockings, and dark shoes with silver buckles. He lifted up both hands to the heavens just as Solomon had done, closed his eyes, and began to pray. When he finished praying, he opened his eyes and lowered his right hand as if reaching for something in front of him, but there was nothing there. Then a sheet of paper descended from the sky and landed in his left hand, which was still raised upward. Just at that moment he lowered his glance and appeared to be looking directly into my eyes. He then descended the steps of the platform and walked over to the Temple, still holding the paper in his hand. When he reached the corner of the building, he bent down and slipped the paper into one of the cracks in between two massive stones, where it disappeared. As it disappeared, he faded away. I looked around toward the multitude, but they too were gone.”

“And then what?”

“Then I was alone…standing in the Temple courts. The sky began to darken. The winds began blowing stronger and stronger. It seemed that time itself was accelerating faster and faster until all around me was a whirlwind of action, events, and sound…an intense blur of sight and sound…as the sky continued to darken and darken until it was almost as dark as night. Whatever was happening, it didn’t seem to be a good thing. And then it was over, as if a violent storm had just passed through. The darkness began to break and everything was growing brighter. But when I turned back to see the Temple, it was gone. It was in ruins…its massive stones scattered on the mount. Everything was destroyed. It was then that I noticed a man…turned away from me…a man in a golden robe.”

“The golden robe of King Solomon?”

“Yes. He was standing in the same place where Washington stood before he disappeared…at the corner of the Temple, except that now there was no corner and no Temple…only ruins, but it was the same place. At the man’s feet was a sheet of paper, the paper that had been hidden inside the stones. But the destruction had caused it to be revealed. He bent down to pick it up. I felt I had to approach him, and as I did, he turned around—and it was him!”

“Solomon?”

“No.”

“Washington?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

“It was the prophet.”

“The prophet…”

“The golden robe dropped to his side, revealing his long dark coat. He looked into my eyes, then handed me the paper. I took it into my hands and looked down to see what it said.”

“And what did it say?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Because I woke up!”

“Bad timing,” she replied.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think it was meant to happen just as it did.”

“The mystery you were seeking…the prophet told you it was hidden in the foundation. So the paper in the dream, it was hidden in the wall of a building.”

“That struck me as well,” he replied.

“So you believed the dream was significant…a sign?”

“I did.”

“So what did you make of it?”

“It all centered on the Temple. The Temple was on the seal. The seal was about a breach, the removal of protection…destruction. The dream involved the destruction of the Temple.”

“But what about George Washington?” she asked. “What would be the meaning of his appearance?”

“Solomon was the king of Israel. Washington was the first president of the United States. There was something in the linking of ancient Israel and America, as with all the other mysteries.”

“And the paper?”

“As you said—the mystery hidden in the foundation, a message concerning America, waiting to be uncovered.”

“So where did it all lead you?”

“I had no idea where it was all leading me. And then it hit me…Washington! Washington hid the mystery. So the mystery was hidden in Washington…the city…the nation’s foundation. And the Temple was in Jerusalem, which was the capital. The mystery again pointed to the capital city. So I returned to Washington DC.”

“But looking for what this time?”

“For any connection to the Temple or King Solomon. But the search came up with nothing, so I expanded it to include any house of worship of significance. But again, nothing. So I expanded it again to include now any place with a specific connection to George Washington—the Washington Monument, the statue in the middle of the Capitol Rotunda.”

“And…?”

“Again, nothing. So finally I just went searching everywhere—the Smithsonian, the Jefferson Memorial, the Supreme Court…everywhere.”

“And…?”

“Yet again…nothing.”

“So how long were you there in Washington?”

“Several weeks. And then I gave up. I returned home discouraged. The dream appeared to be filled with clues, but there was nothing to connect any of them to anything meaning anything. So I returned again to the only place with a definite connection to the seal.”

“Battery Park?”

“Yes. And that’s where I was, standing…by the water’s edge, watching a seagull in the sky when I heard the voice again from behind me.”

“The prophet?”

“The prophet.”

“You haven’t given up,” he said, “have you, Nouriel?”

“Why does it look like I have?” I asked.

“I didn’t say it did,” he replied.

“You know, there’s a fine line,” I said, “between giving up and having absolutely nothing to go on.”

“So you think you have absolutely nothing to go on?”

“It’s not that I
think
I have absolutely nothing to go on…but what I do have to go on doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Then tell me what you do have”

“The Temple of Jerusalem…the capital city…a breach…a holy place…destruction…Washington DC…”

“And nothing else?”

“That’s about it.”

“Why don’t we go for a little walk?” So we began walking, first through Battery Park and then out into the streets of Lower Manhattan.

“The Temple of Jerusalem was the house of God’s glory,” said the prophet. “But in 586
B.C.
, after centuries of apostasy and with no hope of return, the Lord finally allowed His house to be touched by judgment and destroyed.”

“The Temple and the breach, the destruction of the Temple, that much I had right.”

“The Temple was the focal point of the nation’s life. So the focal point of the nation’s judgment…”

“…would be the Temple’s destruction.”

“Exactly.”

“So as went the Temple, so went the nation.”

“For good or bad. When the Temple’s construction was completed by King Solomon, the kingdom itself was complete.”

“Solomon…”

“And when he dedicated it to God, it was the nation as well that was dedicated.”

“I saw it!” I said, my voice rising in pitch.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“That’s what it was in the dream—the dedication of the Temple. I had a dream, and it began with Solomon leading a gathering of multitudes at the Temple.”

“Interesting,” said the prophet.

“Tell me, what exactly did Solomon do on the day he dedicated the Temple?”

“He gathered the nation and its leaders to Jerusalem. He addressed the gathering, reminding them of how faithful God had been to the nation. Then he offered up prayers, prayers for the future generations. Solomon was looking into the nation’s future, foreseeing its coming departure from God and its consequences.”

“The consequences being…”

“The removal of God’s favor from the land,” said the prophet, “the withdrawal of His blessings…the nation’s hedge of protection…national calamity.”

“And it all happened?” I asked.

“Yes. The prayers of King Solomon were prophetic. But he wasn’t only foretelling what would happen to those future generations; he was also praying on their behalf, in light of what would happen, for God’s mercy and for restoration.”