Chapter Seven

Zechariah and Elizabeth sat quietly awaiting the priests coming from villages further away from the Temple. She quietly weaved the small round designs. Barely 3 feet in diameter they were just the right size for small rugs, or for sitting on, or for protecting tables from the hot pots and bowls of stew and other foods.

Zechariah was whittling a rams horn Micah had given him in payment for blessing his fields and animals. It was a small one, about a foot in length. Zechariah had hollowed it out yesterday and now was working on the blow hole.

He lifted it to his mouth and gave a hearty blow on it.

“Zechariah, will you ever learn to blow one of those things?” Elizabeth said while covering her ear closest to him.

Zechariah chuckled. “Of course not.”

He whittled some more on the horn and then blew it again. This time was less harsh but still not as pleasant as Elizabeth hoped for.

“Zechariah,” Pashur shouted from the front of the small building Zechariah and Elizabeth called home.

Elizabeth looked up from her weaving and smiled at Zechariah.

“Looks like the others have started to arrive.”

“Yes. Sounds like Pashur. I wonder if Jerimoth is with him this trip. He should be of age now to serve in the Temple,” Zechariah said.

He winced slightly as he rose to go look outside.

“Darn hips,” he said.

Opening the door he found Pashur and Jerimoth and their old mule Ahab awaiting him.

“Pashur,” Zechariah said and quickly approached his old friend and gave him a warm hug. “Good to see you.”

Pashur turned slightly and held his open palm out towards his son.

“You remember Jerimoth don’t you. He is twenty now. He has come of age to serve in the Temple. He has been studying very hard on the prayers, on how to mix the incense, on everything Zechariah. Been driving me crazy with questions about this, questions about that.”

Pashur smiled at Jerimoth and continued, “You would think he intends for the rest of us to stand around and watch him take care of everything by himself.”

Zechariah stepped around Pashur and gave the young man a great hug. He stepped back and wagged a finger in Pashur’s direction.

“I remember your father’s first service at the Temple. He had more questions than a quail has feathers. Drove his father crazy for months. The only way his father could get him to shut up was to threaten to leave him home, make him wait another year, till he was twenty one.”

Jerimoth smiled and bowed slightly to Zechariah.

“Is it alright for me to water our mule?”

“Certainly. Come right over here,” Zechariah said.

Tugging at Jerimoth’s tunic he pulled him around the side of the house to the water trough for the animals. He picked up one of the water jugs and poured some water in the trough for the mule. He shooed the goats and sheep back as Jerimoth tied the mule off on the rail. Ahab gulped at the water as the men headed inside.

“Elizabeth!” Pashur shouted. He gave her a big hug and motioned for Jerimoth to come closer.

“Jerimoth, this is Elizabeth. She makes the finest sweet bread in all of Israel. If you speak kindly to her she may treat you to some.”

Elizabeth eyed Jerimoth from head to toe.

“My, my. How long has it been Zech?” she said.

“He was here just last year for Passover.”

“He couldn’t have been. Look how big he is. You would think he is old enough to serve in the Temple now,” She said.

“Come, sit. Let me get you something to drink.”

Pashur and Jerimoth sat down on the bench extending from the wall. Zechariah filled a bowl with water and grabbed a towel. He handed the towel to Pashur and set the water bowl down between him and Jerimoth.

“It is a hot day to walk so far my friend,” Zechariah commented.

Pashur slipped off his sandals and dipped his right foot into the water. He bent over and rubbed his feet washing off the dust from the road.

Elizabeth handed Jerimoth a glass of wine which he gratefully accepted. He drank down about half of the glass then set it on the bench next to him.

“How is it a young man like you is not married yet?” Elizabeth said to Jerimoth. “Tell me, which young girl in your village have you got your eye on?”

Jerimoth blushed.

“Elizabeth,” Zechariah scolded. “Leave the young man alone. Pay her no mind Jerimoth.”

“A young man old enough to serve in the Temple is more than old enough to have a wife. Tell me Jerimoth, who has caught your fancy.”

Pashur looked at him and said, “You might as well get on with it son. Elizabeth is surely going to keep asking for an answer till she hears what she wants to hear.”

Pashur handed Jerimoth the towel. Elizabeth handed him a glass of wine. Zechariah sat down on a cushion and waited for Jerimoth’s confession.

“Out with it,” Elizabeth said.

Smiling, Jerimoth looked at her then at the floor. “Well, there is this one girl, Hannah.”

Looking up at Elizabeth he said, “She is fifteen. I like to go to the well and carry her water back for her.”

“Fifteen and she is not married yet? Is she the oldest daughter?”

“Yes, and her sisters wish she would hurry up and get married. Her youngest sister, Sarah, she wants to marry Asa. I think he wants to marry her too.”

Pashur chimed in, “I am not sure Eliab wants any of his daughters to marry. I think he likes all the pampering he gets from them.”

“Sounds like a man,” Elizabeth said.

“I have spoken to him a time or two,” Pashur said. “Just testing the waters. Hannah and her sisters always seem to be right around the corner, giggling and spying on us.”

“Well, Jerimoth is not getting any younger. And you need some grand children Pashur,” Elizabeth teased.

Pashur smiled and took another drink of wine.

A knock at the door announced the arrival of more priests gathering to journey the rest of the way together.

Zechariah and Pashur rose to go outside and greet them. Stepping outside they found Berechiah, Zerah and Obadiah shaking the dust from their tunics.

“Friends!” Zechariah exclaimed.

He and Pashur gave a hearty hug to each. Jerimoth emerged from the house and quickly gathered the ropes for their donkey’s and led them to the watering trough.

The three new visitors eyed Jerimoth and smiled at Pashur.

“So, Jerimoth is coming along to serve in the Temple. What a proud father you must be Pashur,” Obadiah said.

“Yes. He has grown so fast.” He replied.

Obadiah smiled, “Next time we serve, I will be bringing my young Korah to join his brothers and I.”

“Come, come. Let us go inside,” he said as he motioned for them to enter the house ahead of him. “You must be thirsty as a jackal in the desert on such a hot day.”

They all stepped inside to await the arrival of the rest.

© 2011 John Pearson All Rights Reserved.