Finally, from the upward tilt of the wagon, I knew we had passed the lower region of the city and were climbing. The heat was stifling and there was no breeze to dispel the fumes from smoke, rotting garbage, and human waste that now even made my eyes water. I was listening halfheartedly as Joseph tried to direct my attention to the magnificent seating structure of Herod’s open theater when the carriage turned into a busy square and headed north. Moments later, because I had neglected to so much as glance at the Hasmonean palace occupied by Herod Antipas on his city visits, the old man grasped my wrists and stared into my eyes.

“Are you ill, my son?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Frightened? Having second thoughts about that wish of yours?”

“No, to both your questions. As we’ve been riding I’ve been trying to remember the most important questions I had accumulated, over the years, for my fictitious Christ Commission to ask brother James.”

“And?”

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to say, “I’m ready.”

But I was not ready—not prepared at all—for the overwhelming and majestic edifice that rose above me when I stepped from the carriage after Shem brought his animals to a halt before one of the gates of the Temple wall. None of the drawings and floor plans and clay models I had ever seen of Herod’s wondrous structure did it justice. Speechless, I allowed Joseph to lead me through the arched entranceway, with Shem close behind, until we had entered the crowded courtyard area paved with massive blocks of polished stone. Then I clutched at the old man’s arm. I had to stop. I had to give myself time to collect my wits as I tilted my head in touristlike awe at the magnificent peaks of marble and gold that rose, layer upon layer, more than three hundred feet into the air.

Up there somewhere, I knew, were marble steps leading to massive doors overlaid with silver and gold, doors I would never see as a non-Jew. Those doors opened on an area called the Court of Priests, containing an altar exposed to the heavens upon which offerings and sacrifices were consummated. Two bronze doors, more than sixty feet high, opened from that altar to the Sanctuary, which could only be entered by the supreme hierarchy of Temple officials. Above the giant doors, according to my studies, hung a massive vine wrought of solid gold with a value that was incalculable. Inside the dimly lit Sanctuary, two heavy veils embroidered with precious silks of blue, purple, and scarlet were blended with fine twined linen hung from golden hooks and sockets of silver to divide the room. The front portion, called the Holy Place, held the Golden Candlesticks with Seven Branches, the Golden Altar of Incense, and the Table of Shewbread, each an important element of the priestly ceremonies.