The Harbinger, page 20
“Why?” I asked
“The Temple Mount represented the nation’s covenant with God. So its destruction was the ultimate sign that the covenant was broken. Yet even in that there was mercy. It was a sign that God was calling the nation back, to remember the ground of its dedication and consecration to Him . . . the foundation on which all of its blessings rested.”
“So it was both a sign of judgment,” I said, “and a prophetic message calling the nation back . . . to return to the foundation.”
“Correct.”
I took out the seal to look at it once more. “But what does it all have to do with America?” I asked.
“On the day after 9/11,” he said, “the Senate majority leader recited the words of the ancient prophecy at the end of his speech. But at the beginning of that speech, he cited a number. He said:
“It is with pain, sorrow, anger, and resolve that I stand before this Senate—a symbol for 212 years of the strength of our Democracy.1
“Notice the number, Nouriel.”
“Two hundred twelve.”
“It was given to connect 9/11 to the founding of the American government, the establishment of the American nation-state. Do the math.”
“Two thousand one, minus 212 years, comes to 1789.”
“Correct. 1789.”
“But I thought America was founded in 1776.”
“The year 1776 was the year America declared its independence. It would be several years before that independence became a reality, and several more years before there was a Constitution upon which the nation would be established. America, as we know it—with a president, a Senate, and a House of Representatives—only came into existence in 1789. More specifically, it came into existence on April 30, 1789, the day when, for the first time, all these were in place—America’s first day as a fully constituted nation.”
“What happened on April 30?”
“It was the day that the nation’s government was completed as set forth in the Constitution, the day America’s first president was inaugurated.”
“George Washington!”
“Yes.”
“He was part of it too,” I said. “He was there in the dream . . . at the dedication of the Temple. First it was King Solomon, and then it was Washington.”
“Why do you think that was, Nouriel?”
“Why was Washington in my dream?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“It wasn’t my dream.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “A sign that it had something to do with America.”
“What was he doing in your dream?”
“Leading the people in prayer, like Solomon. And then he stretched out his hand as if reaching for something.”
“Like this?” The prophet stretched forth his right hand with his palm turned down.
“Yes, exactly like that. How did you . . . ”
“But he wasn’t so much reaching for something; his palm was turned down.”
“Then what was he doing?” I asked.
“He was placing his hand on a Bible,” said the prophet, “to swear. He was taking the oath of the presidency. It was the inauguration, April 30, 1789, the beginning of America as a constituted nation—the foundation, 212 years before 9/11.”
“The inauguration of George Washington on the Temple Mount?”
“In your dream the two events were joined together—Israel’s dedication and America’s inauguration, the one superimposed on the other.”
“Why?”
“It was your dream . . . you tell me.”
“Because somehow the two days are connected?”
“But how?” asked the prophet. “What would they have in common?”
“The dedication of the Temple was also an inauguration,” I said, “and the inauguration of the American government would also be a type of dedication. Each was an opening day and a day of completion. Each represented the completion of a structure . . . the structure of a nation. And each involved the nation gathering together.”
“Gathering together where?”
“In the nation’s capital?”
“And who presided over each gathering?”
“The nation’s leader . . . the king . . . the president.”
“And in your dream, did King Solomon speak?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“I don’t know.”
“King Solomon began his address by acknowledging God’s hand and faithfulness in the nation’s history. So, on the day of America’s inauguration day, the nation’s first president would do likewise. In the first ever presidential address, this is what he said:
“No people can be bound to acknowledge and adore the Invisible Hand which conducts the affairs of men more than those of the United States. Every step by which they have advanced to the character of an independent nation seems to have been distinguished by some token of providential agency.2
“As he addressed the people in the days of the dedication, King Solomon offered up prayers and supplications to the Almighty, interceding for the Lord’s blessing on the nation’s future. Now listen to the words of Washington’s first presidential address:
“It would be peculiarly improper to omit in this first official act my fervent supplications to that Almighty Being who rules over the universe, who presides in the councils of nations, and whose providential aids can supply every human defect, that His benediction may consecrate to the liberties and happiness of the people of the United States a Government instituted by themselves for these essential purposes.”3
“In my dream, Solomon was praying, then Washington took his place but continued praying. The two leaders . . . the two events were superimposed. So that’s why.”
“And it wasn’t just Solomon who was praying for the nation’s future,” he said, “but all the leaders and multitudes who were gathered on the Temple Mount, everyone. So too it was on America’s inauguration. It was designated as a day of prayer and dedication. This was the proclamation that went forth:
“On the morning of the day on which our illustrious President will be invested with his office, the bells will ring at nine o’clock, when the people may go up to the house of God and in a solemn manner commit the new government, with its important train of consequences, to the holy protection and blessing of the Most High. An early hour is prudently fixed for this peculiar act of devotion and is designed wholly for prayer.4
“So, on the morning of April 30, 1789, the sounds of bells filled the nation’s capital for thirty minutes, calling the people to go up to the house of God, to commit the new government to the holy protection and blessing of the Most High. As for the nation’s first president and government, it would be later that same day that they would gather for prayer to commit the future into God’s hands, at a place especially chosen for that purpose. So after the new president finished delivering the first presidential address, he would lead the Senate and the House of Representatives on foot in a procession through the streets of the capital from Federal Hall, the site of the inauguration, to the place appointed for their prayers.”
“And what was the place appointed?” I asked.
“A little stone church.”
“So the first official act of the newly formed government took place inside the walls of a church.”
“That’s correct,” he replied. “The nation’s first president, Senate, and House of Representatives were all there inside that little stone sanctuary. The gathering would be recorded in the Annals of Congress as part of the first-ever joint session of Congress with an acting president. The inauguration of the United States, as we know it, began with a sacred gathering before God.”
“So the first collective act of the newly formed American government was to gather for prayer.”
“To gather for prayer, undoubtedly to give thanks, and specifically to commit the future into the holy protection and blessing of the Most High.”
Just then we came to a stop at a street corner. “It’s time,” he said. “It’s time to uncover the last piece of the mystery. To do that, we must identify the ground.”
“The ground?”
“The ground on which America was committed in prayer to God that first day.”
“But there’s something I’m not getting,” I said. “All this happened in the capital city. Correct?”
“That’s correct,” he replied.
“Then what are we doing here?” I asked. “We were there in Washington DC, on Capitol Hill, even on the terrace where the presidents are inaugurated. Why didn’t you show me this then when we were there? And even after that, when I returned to Washington, I was there for weeks, and you never showed up. But you show up now . . . I don’t understand.”
“You were right, Nouriel,” he said. “The mystery is linked to the capital. You just came up with the wrong one.”
“What do you mean—the wrong one?”
“When the nation began, its capital city wasn’t Washington DC. On April 30, 1789, the city of Washington didn’t exist.”
“Then what was America’s original capital city?” I asked.
“You’re standing in it,” he replied.
“New York? New York City?”
“The first capital of the United States was New York City. That’s where it all took place.”
“Washington was sworn in as president in New York City?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Now I have someone to show you.”
“Someone?”
He took me around the corner and down the street. There was a statue in the distance. “Do you recognize him?” he asked.
“Washington?”
“Correct.”
It was the dark bronze statue of George Washington that stands on Wall Street facing the New York Stock Exchange. We drew nearer, coming to a stop just short of the platform on which it rested. From there we gazed up at the dark stoic figure.
“My dream!” I said. “This is exactly how he looked in my dream. He wasn’t as big, but I was looking up at him the same way . . . from the same angle. And his right hand was extended just like that.”
“And turned downward just like that,” he said, “to rest on the Bible.”
“I went all around Washington DC looking for anything connected to him—a statue, a monument, a clue—and this one didn’t even occur to me.”
“And why should it have?” he replied. “You’re a New Yorker. Just because something’s right in front of your eyes doesn’t mean you have to see it. Washington never set foot in Washington DC, but he set foot here. This is where it all began. This is where the United States of America, as we know it, came into existence.”
“In New York City.”
“In New York City . . . and here.”
“Here?”
“Here,” he replied, “as in right here. There’s an inscription on the pedestal. Read it, Nouriel. Read it out loud.”
So I did:
On this site in Federal Hall, April 30, 1789 George Washington took the Oath as the First President of the United States of America.5
“On this site . . . I’ve seen this statue so many times and never stopped to think about why it was here.”
“Here is where it all happened: April 30, 1789, the streets and rooftops are overflowing with people. Washington places his hand on the Bible and swears the oath. The crowd breaks out in cheers, cannons boom, and bells ring out across the city. Then he withdraws into Federal Hall where he delivers the first presidential address before Congress. After that, he leads the nation’s first government on foot in a procession to the little stone sanctuary to commit the nation’s future in prayer to God.”
“Where?” I asked.
“That’s the key,” he replied.
“The key to the mystery?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“It would be the ground on which the nation was committed to God, the nation’s ground of consecration.”
“Correct.”
“So it would have to be somewhere in New York City.”
“A safe assumption.”
“And if we’re standing on the site where the inauguration took place . . . and they went by foot to the appointed place . . . then it couldn’t be far from here.”
“No it couldn’t be,” he replied.
And that’s where I stopped, instead of following it through to its logical conclusion.
• • •
“Why?” asked Ana. “Why would you stop just then?”
“Because I wasn’t sure I was ready to see it or to know what the answer was.”
“But you were searching for it all along,” she said.
“Yes,” he replied, “but it was never within my grasp before that moment. Did you ever get so close to something you were searching for, and when you know you’re just about to find it . . . when it’s in your reach, you’re not sure you’re ready to find it?”
“I think I understand,” she said.
“That’s what it was . . . I knew it was something very big, very central, and very important . . . but I wasn’t sure I was ready to find it.”
“So what happened?” she asked.
“The prophet didn’t give me a choice.”
• • •
“Come, Nouriel,” he said. “It’s time to see the place where it all happened . . . America’s ground of consecration. Let’s follow in their steps as the president led them through the streets of the city on foot to the appointed place. Let’s go.”
So we walked down Wall Street and then onto another. I could picture it all as it happened two centuries earlier: Washington, the first senators, the first representatives, the first cabinet, America’s first government, all heading to the sacred gathering. But it was now just me and the prophet, retracing the journey. Not that there weren’t others on those same streets. There were, of course, but not with same purpose. I was silent the entire time, as was he. And then he stopped and turned to me. “There it is, Nouriel,” he said, pointing to a building across the street. “There it is. The place where America was dedicated to God.”
The place was surrounded by a dark wrought-iron fence.
“Is that the same little stone church?”
“Yes,” he answered.
The building was distinctive looking and yet, at the same time, in view of what it represented, inconspicuous. In the front was a columned, classical-looking façade. In the back was a steeple, tall, narrow, and more what you’d expect to find in an old church building.
“You might not even notice it,” I said.
“What you’re looking at, Nouriel, is St. Paul’s Chapel. It stands now much as it did on April 30, 1789, when America’s first government entered through its doors. It was here that the nation’s first president, Senate, and House of Representatives bowed together in prayer to consecrate the new nation’s future into the hands of God. This is the place where the new nation was committed to the Almighty; this is America’s ground of consecration.”
Then he was silent, letting me take it in. But I knew that wasn’t the end of it. I knew there was something to be revealed, something he was holding back from telling me. “Originally, it faced the other way,” he said. “Its front was in the back. Its main entrance was on the other side. Let’s continue our walk.”
So we crossed the street and walked along the sidewalk that lined the church’s iron fence to our right. Within the iron fence was an old courtyard. As we walked, I found myself unable to stop peering through the bars at the trees, the grass, and the ancient-looking gravestones inside, looking for something significant to the mystery. I was still gazing into the courtyard as we neared the rear corner of the property.
“In the early days,” the prophet said, “this is what you’d walk through to enter the sanctuary.”
He allowed me just a few moments before speaking again.
“Turn around, Nouriel,” he said.
“Let me just . . . ” I was so focused on what was inside the fence that I didn’t notice what was surrounding it.
“You’re missing it,” he said in a more somber tone. “It’s right here, and you’re missing it. Turn around.”
So I turned around.
“Look,” he said.
When I saw it, I was stunned to the point of almost losing my balance.
“Do you know what you’re looking at?”
“It’s not . . . ”
“It’s not what?”
“It’s not . . . ”
“What is it that it’s not?”
“Ground Zero.”
“But it is Ground Zero.”
“Ground Zero . . . the last piece of the mystery.”
“America’s consecration ground,” he said.
“Ground Zero,” I repeated, unable, at that moment, to say anything else.
“America,” he said, “was committed to God at the corner of what would become Ground Zero. It was here, at Ground Zero, that they all gathered—George Washington, John Adams, America’s Founding Fathers. They all came here to the corner of Ground Zero to pray on the day that America’s foundation was laid . . . as the consecrating act of that foundation. It was here that they came to commit the nation’s future to God’s holy protection. And it was here where that holy protection would be withdrawn.”
I removed the seal from my coat pocket to once more examine its image. It was then that its meaning hit me with a new and stark clarity. “The sacred ground . . . the nation’s hedge of protection broken . . . and the ancient principle . . . the ground of dedication becomes the ground of calamity . . . the judgment returns to the ground of consecration.”
“And literally so,” said the prophet, “as the massive white cloud born of the destruction literally engulfed the little chapel and the debris and ashes of the falling towers covered its soil.”
“So on this ground is hidden a national mystery. This is the mystery you spoke of, and in my dream . . . hidden in America’s foundation.”
The prophet pointed into the distance. “Had we been there on that day of inauguration, everything over there, everything beyond that point, would have been water. But between here and the water was a field . . . now known as Ground Zero . . . a field owned by a church. Ground Zero was originally church land.”
