In the summer of 1000 b.c., porters haul a gilded acacia chest up the steep limestone grade toward Mount Zion. Sweat cuts through white chalk on the necks of Levite laborers as they climb 2,400 feet above sea level. The physical toil of dragging heavy timber over sharp rock yields to deep consolation when the procession reaches the threshold of the mountain fortress.
King David directs the march into the newly captured citadel. Laborers demand entry at the outer defenses. The city gates consist of thick cedar planks plated with iron bands weighing 450 pounds. These heavy timber barriers protect the settlement from desert raiders and hostile tribes. The King of Glory owns the mountain and every rock beneath it, for he founded the land upon the subterranean waters. Only travelers with clean hands and honest tongues may cross his threshold. This requirement enforces basic civic order and moral cleanliness inside the fortress walls.
Ancient city gates rotated on basalt sockets and required the force of four men to push open. Calling for the gates to lift their heads describes the raising of vertical wooden grates that cost a town over two years of a laborer's wages to construct. Human beings build massive barriers out of fear, yet they eagerly raise their heaviest defenses when a strong protector brings peace and security from the battlefield.
A strong lock keeps out thieves, but only honest character earns a man the right to walk through the front door.
The bronze sockets of those mountain gates wore down into smooth grooves in the bedrock over centuries of daily traffic. The site remained a fortified center of law and sacrifice until Roman legions leveled the stone walls to rubble.