It was quiet again for a few minutes; then Natasha picked up the thought.
“It’s funny,” she said softly. “I thought of archeology as the study of the past, but my grandfather always said it was about the future. ‘What good is digging up relics today if it doesn’t affect how we live tomorrow?’ he used to say. To him, finding the Temple treasures wasn’t simply about proving that the Jews controlled Jerusalem thousands of years ago. It was about setting into motion the building of the Third Temple and thus fulfilling the words of the Hebrew prophets.”
“But you didn’t buy it?” asked Erin.
“He was the zealot in the family, not me. After my parents died, I decided there couldn’t be a God so capricious that He would leave me and millions of other children around the world orphaned. But my grandfather never gave up on me. He wanted me to be a believer.”
Again they drove for a while in silence.
Then Jon spoke up. “Forgive me, Natasha, but I’m curious. What exactly do Jewish people believe when it comes to rebuilding the Temple?”
In some ways, Natasha dreaded the question. It had been a mistake to say anything. She would have preferred to suffer in silence. But then again, her grandfather had taught her well, and perhaps the chance to pass along some of his knowledge would help keep her mind off of how utterly alone she felt without him.
“That’s like asking Christians what they think about the pope,” she replied. “Ask a Catholic and you’ll get one answer. Ask the Greek or Russian Orthodox, and you’ll get quite another. Everything depends on your point of view.”
“I’ve heard some people say the building of the Temple will precede the coming of the Messiah,” Erin said. “Others say the Messiah will build it Himself.”
“Well, you’re right about that,” Natasha replied. “It’s been an age-old debate. Even some of our wisest sages were confused. Read Maimonides. At various points, he made the case for both sides. But the truth is, until the last few months, most Israelis — secular ones, anyway — didn’t believe the Temple would ever be rebuilt, nor did they much care. With the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aksa Mosque there, it just seemed impossible. Obviously, religious Jews — particularly the Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox — believed it would happen, though most couldn’t imagine how.
“That said, ever since we reunified Jerusalem and took control of the Temple Mount in 1967, the movement to rebuild has certainly been growing from just a handful of true believers into a very powerful force. They’ve been publishing books and holding conferences about it. They’ve been making implements for Temple service and training priests in Temple rituals. And then came October 13, 2004.”
“What happened then?” asked Bennett.
They were now approaching the outskirts of the city, and Natasha could see the Sea of Galilee glistening in the morning sun.
“That was the day the Sanhedrin was reconvened — right here in Tiberias, actually — for the first time in over 1,600 years.”
“The Sanhedrin?” Erin asked, astonished. “The same one that condemned Jesus and sent Him to Pilate, hoping the Romans would execute Him?”
“Well, most Jews don’t exactly think of that as the group’s defining moment, but yes, that’s the one,” said Natasha. “The original Sanhedrin was the governing religious council of the Temple, made up of the seventy-one most prominent rabbis in the country. They met in the Temple. They oversaw its daily life and practice. After Jerusalem was sacked and the Temple destroyed in the year 70, the Sanhedrin went underground. They were convinced the city and the sanctuary would be rebuilt. They were convinced the Messiah would come and make it all right, and they believed it would all happen soon. But years turned into decades and decades into centuries, and around the year 425, those who were running the council finally gave up hope, and the Sanhedrin disbanded.”
“Until 2004,” said Erin.
“That’s right,” said Natasha. “That’s when the Sanhedrin was reconvened. But that was only the beginning. On June 6, 2005, the Sanhedrin made news again — big news, actually, at least in our house. I remember their statement verbatim because my grandfather drilled it into my head, night and day. ‘The Sanhedrin calls upon all groups who work in the area of Temple and Temple Mount — related research and activity to begin to prepare detailed architectural plans for the construction of the Holy Temple, towards the goal of its establishment in its proper place. The Sanhedrin will establish a forum of architects and engineers whose goal will be to implement this decision, so that detailed working plans are effectively brought to an operational stage.’
“That’s when I began to sit up and take notice of all this Temple talk,” Natasha confided. “Because it suddenly seemed like the train was really leaving the station. Now remember, this was all long before the War of Gog and Magog. Few people in Israel realized what was coming or that the Muslim holy sites were going to be destroyed in a firestorm. But we still knew the rebirth of the Sanhedrin and the call to prepare detailed plans for the Temple were dramatic developments. Even me. And in my grandfather’s eyes, they were prophetic ones. Why? Because it meant a significant shift had occurred in Jewish thinking. No longer did the majority of rabbis in Israel believe the Messiah would come and build the Temple. Now they believed that they were required to build the Temple themselves, in the last days, and then the Messiah would come.”
A few moments later, they found Ehad Ha’am Street, and Natasha tapped Bennett on the shoulder and pointed. “That one,” she said. “That’s my cousin’s house — the big one on the left.”
40
They pulled into the driveway.
“What did you say your cousin does?” Erin asked.
It was an enormous house, with gardens surrounding it and a spacious two-car garage, all newly built on a cliff overlooking the Sea of Galilee.
“She’s the new VP of marketing for Medexco,” said Natasha. “Miriam Gozal. Do you know her?”
Neither Jon nor Erin did, but it reminded them both that they ought to give Dmitri Galishnikov a call when the coast was clear. They had just seen him at the wedding, and he would no doubt be mourning Mordechai’s death.
“It doesn’t look like anyone is here,” said Bennett after ringing the doorbell several times and peering in the vestibule window and seeing no one.
“She might be in Europe,” Natasha said. “For the life of me I don’t know why she bought this place. She’s never here.”
They pulled the Mercedes into the garage and began poking around the enormous, three-level home. It had seven bedrooms, four bath-rooms, a gorgeous new Italian kitchen, a huge office on the top floor, and no sign that anyone lived there but the cousin. Each floor had a wrap-around balcony. On one of them Natasha paused, staring out over the small but growing city of Tiberias below them and the Golan Heights on the other side of the sea. Not wanting to leave her alone, the Bennetts remained with her for a while, trying to enjoy the view despite all that had happened.
“You look like you have another question, Jon,” Natasha said softly.
“I’m fine.”
“Really, it’s okay. I’d rather answer your questions than wallow in my grief.”
“Well, it’s just that I’m still curious about the Temple treasures and the Ark.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, besides all these theories that you and your grandfather and these ex-CIA guys have about the Copper Scroll, does the Bible actually say they’ll ever be found? Is that in any of the prophecies, or is this just… ?”