Zechariah left his house and walked toward the temple. The buildings lining both sides of the street in the Upper City looked even more splendid than before. His own house, once considered quite nice, now seemed rather shabby by comparison. Yet, the gloomy atmosphere hanging over these magnificent buildings reflected the reality of Jerusalem. People living in Jerusalem now had to face what was called the Great Purge.
Many things had happened as Zechariah’s hair turned gray. In his youth, though Rome had seized control due to the conflict between Hyrcanus II and his brother Aristobulus II, Hyrcanus II still held the position of High Priest. Since Rome was generally tolerant of local religions, even as the Herodian family began to rise politically, little changed for Zechariah in his priestly duties. But things began to unravel when Antigonus, son of Aristobulus II, seized Jerusalem with help from the Sadducees and Rome’s enemy, Parthia, briefly restoring the Hasmonean dynasty. Antigonus cut off the ears of his uncle and former king, Hyrcanus II, stripping him of the High Priesthood, and then took on both the roles of king and High Priest, as previous kings had done.
Some said it was fortunate he stopped there and didn’t kill him, since anyone with a permanent physical defect couldn’t serve as High Priest. Still, it was a vile act, especially against Hyrcanus II, who was both High Priest and his great-uncle. As if in judgment, Herod led Roman legions to retake Jerusalem after three years of war, executed Antigonus, and brought the Hasmonean dynasty to a complete end. Even the remaining royalty of the old dynasty were gradually executed by Herod—sometimes for rebellion, sometimes for false accusations from those around him. This included Hyrcanus II, his mother-in-law Alexandra, and even his wife Mariamne. Recently, two sons born to Mariamne were executed on rumors they had tried to poison Herod, effectively ending the Hasmonean bloodline. Even now—though even more so back then—Herod’s close associates died almost daily. Ownership of the surrounding houses changed hands frequently.
The High Priests had already changed four times under Herod’s rule. In nearly forty years, six men—including Hyrcanus II—had held the office, a stark contrast to the seven High Priests who served in the previous hundred years. The current High Priest, Simon, had served for nearly seventeen years, but only because his daughter was the queen. If Antigonus hadn’t rebelled, would things have turned out this way? They would still have been a Roman province, but perhaps they could have preserved their most important religious traditions.
A little farther on, Herod’s palace came into view on the left—the very castle where King Herod, the main cause of Jerusalem’s present gloom, lived. No matter how splendid and magnificent its exterior, what meaning does that beauty have if the man inside is so cruel? It’s said Herod’s eldest son Antipater will be his successor, but no one knows what might happen to change that. Perhaps Philip, born to the daughter of High Priest Simon, could become the heir.
In many ways, King Herod’s life paralleled King David’s. He had served the previous dynasty, married its princess, and became the first king of a new line. He never gave up despite countless wars, fled to foreign lands in mortal danger, and eventually returned victorious. During both their reigns, Judah gained stability and expanded its territory. The similarities extended to their children as well: both had many wives and many children, and their children’s lust for power led to serious conflicts—even coveting their father’s throne. David left the fate of his children to God, while Herod relied on Rome and his own strength, even to the point of executing his sons. Although their journeys were similar, their choices differed dramatically—one was a man of God, the other driven by human ambition.
Passing Herod’s palace, Zechariah saw the former palace of the Hasmonean dynasty, and behind it, the walls surrounding the temple. Above those walls, God’s temple shone in pristine white. He wondered when that beautiful temple, still under construction, would finally be finished. Probably not in his lifetime.
He, too, had spent a season devoted to temple construction. With ten thousand skilled workers mobilized, even priests had to participate directly in building key structures like the sanctuary. Some learned masonry, others carpentry, before being assigned to the temple site. The work began with removing the old foundation and laying a new one. The entire process followed the law: the temple was built with strong, white stones, and the altar with smooth, natural stones, as Exodus commands that hewn stones should not be used. The main building he helped construct took a year and a half, but it took nearly ten years to complete the basic structure—foundation, colonnades, walls, and floors. The temple covered a vast area of Jerusalem, with deep valleys to the south and east. On the eastern side, walls were built from the bottom of the valley up, with earth filling the space to match the summit’s height—a truly enormous project. Of course, some sections collapsed along the way, and work on external decorations continues, so no one knows when it will finally be declared complete.
Zechariah had been the oldest of the priests working on the temple. He was at an age when he didn’t have to participate directly, but he volunteered for the hardest tasks. Those around him praised him for handling jobs that even much younger priests struggled with, but he wanted something more than praise. He wanted an answer to his prayer.
He felt a sense of mission about the temple construction, but he also hoped that by serving God so diligently, God might answer his prayer. Though that hope was disappointed yet again, he realized that time was necessary for him. He learned that hope also requires faith to sustain it. He had faith in God, but his hope that God would grant his request had nearly vanished. If God hadn’t answered after so many years of prayer, perhaps he had asked wrongly—or perhaps God never intended to give it. And now, in his old age, how could he expect to have a child? God wouldn’t answer his prayer. This was the conclusion Zechariah had come to, deep in his heart.
Zechariah entered the temple. As he passed through the Court of Gentiles, crossed the Beautiful Gate, and reached the Court of Women, he remembered his wife’s face from his dream. As he recalled her expression that day and the events he’d heard about, Zechariah once more cried out to God. He had already given up hope of an answer, yet he still longed for some kind of response.
God, why didn’t You answer my prayer? No matter how diligently I served You, You gave no response. I kept the law and lived as You commanded. You told me to help the poor, so I did, constantly. I obeyed my role as a priest and served more diligently than anyone else in the temple. But why are You silent? Of course, You may choose not to give us a child. Perhaps it’s not Your fault, but ours. But God, if that’s the case, shouldn’t You at least let us know what our problem is? And while You might treat me this way because I grumble, what sin has my wife committed? When has she ever done anything wrong before You? So why must she be treated that way by people and hear such words?
Zechariah’s face hardened again as he expressed his frustration to God.
* * *
As he entered the Court of Priests, a young priest approached him.
“Zechariah, you’re here early.”
“Ah, it’s you...”
“Yes, I’ve been assigned to oversee the construction starting today.”
“That can’t be easy.”
“It’s just supervising, really.”
“Even supervising is tough work.”
“This is nothing compared to what you did, Zechariah. You actually helped build the temple.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Even now, we hear stories of your great deeds from that time. You must have been amazing! If only I’d been born a little earlier, I could have accomplished great things alongside you.”
“Great deeds... How can building the temple be considered a great deed? For me, it was just my duty. Nothing more, nothing less.”
The young priest, oblivious to Zechariah’s tone, kept talking, interpreting things as he pleased.
“I can’t help but feel excited just imagining how many people will be in awe when this temple is completed. We’ll be able to show the world how great the Jewish people are—not just to our neighbors, but even to the Romans.”
“Do you believe that Jews are the most superior people in the world?”
“Of course. We Jews are a people specially chosen by God. Things may be hard now, but we’ll rise again someday. I’d do anything for our people. That’s why I volunteered to oversee the temple construction.”
“Is there nothing you want to gain personally from this service? I mean, besides the big reasons—something more personal, like an answer to your own prayers?”
“What more could I need besides the prosperity of the Jewish people? I just want to play my part in this amazing work of God.”
Zechariah’s heart grew conflicted as he listened to the young priest’s answer. Is this young man sincere, or just pretending? It’s impossible to know, but maybe his answer is more right. Was it wrong, in God’s eyes, to serve while hoping for a personal prayer to be answered?
“By the way, I heard you’re acquainted with the High Priest?”
“Yes. When the High Priest came to the temple, I accompanied and guided him for a while.”
“Zechariah, the more I learn about you, the more amazing you seem. You’re not nobility, but you know nobles; you’re wealthy but not arrogant; you give generously to the poor, and you’re even praised among the priests. I want to be recognized in all aspects, just like you.”
For a moment, Zechariah almost replied, “But I have no children!” Catching himself, he couldn’t help but laugh wryly. Why was he so obsessed with having a child? God had given him so much—why was he so focused on what he lacked, instead of being grateful for all he had?
Just then, a deep voice called out from the Court of Priests.
“Hey, Zechariah...”
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