JERICHO AND THE JORDAN TO JERUSALEM.
JERICHO AND THE JORDAN TO JERUSALEM.
LEAVING the sterile desolate shores of the Dead Sea, we ride in a north-westerly direction over a plain encrusted with salt and sulphur, through a morass overgrown by a jungle of reeds and rushes, and then enter upon the plain of the Jordan. The soil is cumbered with clumps of nubk, its thorns sharp as prongs of steel, and thickets of Zizyphus Spina Christi, from which tradition says that the crown of thorns was made. The osher or apple of Sodom, its flowers resembling those of the potato, its fruit green or yellow, attracts the eye by its deceitful beauty. Innumerable pools and rills of water, fed by the perennial fountains which spring up near the site of the ancient Jericho, nourish this rank and unprofitable vegetation. The climate is semitropical, in consequence of the deep depression of this part of the Jordan valley below the sea level. “Well watered” and with such a climate, the district once was and might still be, an Eden of fertility and beauty.[[101]] Now its only settled inhabitants are a few wild and lawless, squalid and poverty-stricken Arabs.
ER RIHA, NEAR JERICHO.
Turning eastward, we soon reach the Fords of the Jordan, the traditional site of our Lord’s baptism and the present bathing place of the pilgrims. The river comes down from the Sea of Galilee in a turbid impetuous stream. It has cut its channel so deeply in the marly soil, that throughout the greater part of its course it is hidden from view. From any elevated point, however, it is easy to trace its course, from the fringe of bright green which marks it. Innumerable willows, oleanders, and tamarisks grow upon its banks and overhang the river-bed. Hence the incident recorded of the sons of the prophets, who, in the days of Elisha, went down to the Jordan to cut timber, one of whom let the head of a borrowed axe fall into the river.[[102]]
PLAIN OF THE JORDAN NEAR JERICHO.
As we contrast this muddy, turbulent torrent, rushing unprofitably along its deep cut channel, with the clear bright waters of Damascus, which spread fertility and prosperity wherever they come, it is easy to understand the scornful words of Naaman the Syrian: “Are not Abana and Pharpar rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel?... So he turned and went away in a rage.”[[103]]
ARABS IN PLAIN OF JERICHO.
Like the Dead Sea, the physical phenomena of the Jordan are absolutely unique. Emerging from the Sea of Galilee at a probable depression of six hundred feet below the level of the Mediterranean, it rushes along a narrow fissure of sixty miles in length; but doubling and winding as it goes, its actual course is two hundred miles. Starting from so low a level, its current might be expected to be slow and torpid. So far from this, it plunges over a series of rapids,[[104]] and finally loses itself in the Dead Sea, to emerge no more, at a depth of thirteen hundred feet below the level of the Mediterranean. No river famous in history is so unproductive and useless. Like the Upper Rhone, its rapid torrent and its sudden violent floods,[[105]] make it an object rather of dread than delight to the dwellers on its banks. Yet, even in these physical characteristics, we can see its admirable adaptation to the divine purpose. The Israelites were to be cut off from intercourse with the licentious idolaters on the east bank of the Dead Sea. A river easily crossed, with numerous fords and bridges, would have failed to answer this purpose. But the Jordan, though only from twenty to thirty yards wide, offered an almost insuperable barrier to intimate association, the fords being few and dangerous, and the floods rendering bridges almost impossible.
BANKS OF THE JORDAN.
THE JORDAN,
FROM THE SEA OF GALILEE TO THE DEAD SEA.
Crossing the plain in a westerly direction, we reach, in about an hour, a wretched village of mud huts, dominated by a single ruinous tower. Its modern name is Er Riha. Near it was the site of the ancient Gilgal. Here the column of stones, taken from the bed of the Jordan, was piled; here the first camp in the promised land was pitched; here the covenant with God was renewed by the celebration of the passover and the circumcision of the people; here “the manna ceased” and “they did eat of the old corn of the land, unleavened cakes and parched corn on the selfsame day;” and here it was that “the Captain of the Lord’s host,” with “a sword drawn in his hand,” appeared to Joshua to encourage him in the conflicts which yet awaited him.[[106]] It is not to be wondered at that something of sanctity should attach to a spot hallowed with such memories and associations as these. Hence we find that the Tabernacle remained at Gilgal during the stormy period which followed till it was removed to its resting-place in Shiloh.[[107]] And in after ages the people still assembled to offer sacrifices on the spot so memorable in their history.[[108]] As this was in a certain sense the cradle, if not the birth-place, of the national existence, we find that it was at Gilgal that Saul was made king,[[109]] and that the men of Judah assembled to reinstate David upon the throne on his return from exile.[[110]] From the residence of Elijah and Elisha in Gilgal, and from the events which are recorded to have happened there, it is clear that a school of the prophets continued to exist on the site of the ancient sanctuary down to a late period of the monarchy.[[111]]
The sad tendency to apostacy and idolatry which cast so deep a shadow over the history of the Jews, was specially manifest on this sacred spot, for we find Hosea and Amos singling out Gilgal for special censure and denunciation,[[112]] teaching that no sanctity of place, no hallowed memories, no outward influences, can avail to check the corruptions of “an evil heart of unbelief in departing from the living God.”[[113]]
SITE OF ANCIENT JERICHO, WITH MONS QUARANTANIA.
About half an hour after leaving Er Riha, we reach some mounds of crumbling debris at the foot of a range of barren precipitous mountains, which form the western boundary of the Jordan valley. It is the site of Jericho. The soil around it is fertile as ever. Its fountains still pour forth streams over the “well watered” plain. Nowhere has the primæval curse fallen more lightly. With the slightest effort on the part of man, the whole region would become a garden. But alas! it is a desolate waste. The Bedouin lead their flocks across the plain as did the patriarchs of old. But there is no other sign of human life. The groves of palm trees which once stretched for miles around the city and gave it its name,[[114]] have disappeared. One solitary survivor lingered up to the year 1835, but this, too, has now perished. Nothing is left to break the depressing sense of solitude and desolation. The curse pronounced upon the doomed city still seems to linger amongst its ruins: “Cursed be the man before the Lord, that riseth up and buildeth this city of Jericho: he shall lay the foundation thereof in his first-born, and in his youngest son shall he set up the gates thereof.”[[115]]
Standing upon the mounds which mark the site of the ancient city, and looking eastward, we have immediately behind us the range of mountains and table-land, which stretching westward, as far as the plains of Sharon, formed the territory of Judah and Benjamin. Before us is the plain of the Jordan here at its widest. The long wall-like chain of the mountains of Moab bounds the view on the east. Numerous ravines, each of which is memorable in the wars of the Israelites, intersect the range. The vast plains which stretch northward and eastward afford splendid grazing ground, now as of yore, when the flocks and herds of the Midianites wandered over them, when “Gilead was a place for cattle” and the “oaks,” “the rams,” and “the bulls of Bashan” were symbols of agricultural and pastoral wealth.[[116]]
Looking across the valley, attention is arrested by the numerous conical hills rising from the flat table-land which is supported by the mountain chain. Many of these attain considerable height, not only from the plain below, but from the plateau on which they rest. Of these, one holds a conspicuous place in early Hebrew history. Balak, king of Moab, alarmed at the rapid and irresistible progress of the children of Israel, and despairing of checking their advance, sends across the Euphrates to bring thence the seer whose incantations may seduce or overcome the mighty God who had given them the victory. He knew not that—
“God is not a man that He should lie;
Neither the son of man that He should repent:
Hath He said, and shall He not do it?
Or hath He spoken, and shall He not make it good ...
Surely there is no enchantment against Jacob,
Neither is there any divination against Israel.”
He had brought the seer to the top of Pisgah, whence he might command a view of the encampment of Israel in the plain below and of the whole promised land. Vain are all sacrificial rites, all magical arts, all offers of wealth and power. He who was brought to curse can only bless, “And Balaam rose up and went to his place: and Balak also went his way.”[[117]]
Yet again we find Israel encamped in the plains of Moab, on the eastern bank of the Jordan. Their forty years’ wanderings are ended. They are now to go in and possess the good land. But their heroic leader is not to go before them. Though “a hundred and twenty years old, his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated.”[[118]] He might, therefore, have looked forward to a further period of active service; at least he might have hoped to reap with his own hand the harvest for which he had toiled and waited so many weary years. But it was not to be. He must climb “the mountain of Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, that is over against Jericho”—the very height upon which Balaam had stood. There “the Lord showed him all the land of Gilead, unto Dan, and all Naphtali, and the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah, unto the utmost sea, and the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees, unto Zoar.”[[119]] Ignorance of the topography of Palestine has led many to conclude that this extended vision was physically impossible, to be accounted for only by miracle; or by the deniers of miracles, to be rejected as mythical and legendary. So far is this from being the case, that modern travellers, who have been permitted to
“Stand where Moses stood,
And view the landscape o’er,”
have described the scene in words which only fill up the outline of the inspired narrative. The whole extent of Palestine lies stretched out like a map from the snowy summit of Hermon on the north, to the Mediterranean on the west, and the granite peaks of Arabia on the south.
Innumerable legends have gathered about the death of Moses on Nebo. The Talmud abounds with them. Josephus rises to true pathos and poetry as he describes its traditionary incidents. The Mohammedans have wild weird myths of the war which raged amongst the spirits of good and evil around his dying form, and they perform pilgrimages to his legendary tomb on the mountain just above Jericho. All we know is that “Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord. And He buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.”[[120]] Even in Palestine itself there are few spots upon which the eye rests with a deeper sense of awe, and mystery, and reverential wonder than as we look across the Ghor of the Jordan and gaze upon this peak, glowing in the light of the setting sun, where the prophet of the Lord breathed his last earthly sigh, and awoke in the presence of his God.
As soon as the days of mourning for their great leader had been accomplished, his chivalrous successor set the host in motion. Passing, probably, down the Wady Hesban, they encamped in the valley of the Jordan. To cross the river in the presence of their enemies would at any time have been a difficult and dangerous operation. The fords were few, the river rapid, the banks steep. And Jordan was now in flood. It had filled up its banks and was absolutely impassable. Confiding, however, in divine aid, the signal to advance is given. The priests march first, bearing with them the ark. A mile in their rear are the tribes of Reuben, Gad, and half the tribe of Manasseh fully armed, so as to resist any attack made upon them by their foes.[[121]] No sooner had the feet of the priests touched the brimming waters of the river, than the stream ceased to flow downward, being cut off at a point nearly thirty miles above, at the city of Zaretan, leaving the bed dry till the whole people had passed safely over. We are told, respecting the similar miracle of the crossing of the Red Sea, that “the Lord caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind all that night.”[[122]] The enquiry suggests itself whether any natural agency, working under the control of a divine power can be suggested to account for this drying up of the Jordan. It has been already remarked that the whole region is volcanic and subject to earthquakes. It is, therefore, a possible conjecture that such a convulsion of nature may have occurred at this critical moment, so that for a time the bed of the Jordan was laid bare “from the city of Adam, that is beside Zaretan.”[[123]] We need not, however, feel any anxiety to explain these divine interpositions by the action of natural laws. He who instituted the laws of nature and uses them for His purposes as He pleases, can, when it seems good to Him, dispense with them altogether. The fact of the miracle is certain, account for it how we please: “this is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes.”
The siege of Jericho speedily followed. The same divine power which dried up the bed of the river (perhaps working through the same natural agency) caused the walls of the city to “fall down after they were compassed about seven days;” and Rahab, who had “received the spies with peace,” was spared to be enrolled amongst the chosen people, and even in the ancestry of our Lord, as the reward of her faith.[[124]]
Whilst still encamped near Jericho, Joshua undertook two important military exploits. One has been already described—the relief of the city of Gibeon and the defeat of the Amorites in the valley of Ajalon. The other has yet to be spoken of. In the mountain range which rises immediately to the west of the Jordan valley, are several passes which run up into the interior of the country. At the head of one of these stood the city of Ai, near to Bethel. It was an important stronghold, and its acquisition by the Israelites would secure them a firm and commanding position in central Palestine. A small detachment of men was therefore ordered to advance up the pass and attack the city, whilst the main body remained at Jericho. They were, however, defeated with great slaughter by the men of Ai and had to retreat down the steep defile. The sin of Achan having been detected and punished, a new assault was ordered by divine command, which proved successful.[[125]] The acquisition of this almost impregnable post made Joshua master of the whole of Southern Palestine, to the subjugation of which he could now proceed at leisure.
It was along the same pass that, in after years, Elijah and Elisha went up from Gilgal to Bethel and again returned to Jericho. Then crossing the plain, they proceeded to the Jordan, whilst “fifty men of the sons of the prophets” climbed the mountains in the rear, which command a view of the whole region, and “stood to view afar off.” At the place where the children of Israel had crossed the river under Joshua, the prophet took off his mantle, and smiting the waters they again parted, so that “they two went over on dry ground.” Here, perhaps, on the very spot where Moses had died and was buried, Elijah “went up by a whirlwind to heaven.” The two, who were thus mysteriously associated in their departure from earth, were to return to it together, and on the Mount of Transfiguration, to speak with their Lord and ours, “of the decease which He should accomplish at Jerusalem.”[[126]]
Yet once again was the Jordan to be miraculously parted asunder at the same place. Elisha, returning to Jericho, smote the waters with the mantle of Elijah, and invoking “the Lord God of Elijah, the waters parted hither and thither, and Elisha went over.”[[127]]
Reference has been made to the perennial fountains which rise around the site of Jericho. Most of the springs in the lower part of the Ghor are either brackish, or absolutely undrinkable. From their salt and acrid character they cause barrenness rather than fertility.[[128]] But there is one at the foot of the mounds which attracts attention from the purity, sweetness and abundance of its waters. It bears to this day the name of Elisha’s Fountain, and is doubtless the one of which the historian speaks as having been healed by the word of Elisha speaking in the name of the Lord, “so the waters were healed unto this day, according to the saying of Elisha which he spake.”[[129]]
ELISHA’S FOUNTAIN, NEAR JERICHO.
Whilst we have no precise indication of the scene of our Lord’s baptism yet a balance of probabilities seems to confirm the accuracy of the tradition that it was here, where the river had been thrice divided by miracle, that the event took place. John had been preaching in the wilderness of Judea which is just behind us. It was apparently in the same neighbourhood that he baptized the multitudes who came to him. And it was in immediate connection with his baptism that “Jesus being full of the Holy Ghost returned from the Jordan and was led by the spirit into the wilderness, being forty days tempted of the devil.” Though the Mons Quarantania, which rises immediately above Jericho, has only a vague tradition to associate it with the “forty days’” fast, yet it meets all the requirements of the narrative, and its savage desolate solitude is in keeping with the spirit of the event.
Once only do we read that our Lord actually visited Jericho. He had crossed the Jordan and preached “on the further side.”[[130]] Recrossing the river, either by the fords or by the Roman bridge some distance up the stream on his way to Jerusalem, He passed through Jericho. The new city rebuilt by Herod, was now in the height of its splendour. Josephus describes the country round as surpassingly beautiful and fertile. Groves of palms and balsam-trees stretched far and wide. The roads leading to and from the city were shaded by sycamores. Having healed the blind man who sat by the wayside begging, He conferred a yet diviner boon upon Zaccheus, who in his eagerness to see the Lord had climbed into one of the wayside trees. Amidst the reproachful murmurs of the people, He went to be the guest of a man that was a sinner, bringing salvation to his house, “for the Son of man is come to seek and save that which was lost.... And when He had thus spoken He went before, ascending up to Jerusalem.”[[131]]
Thither let us follow Him.
The road at first winds amongst the mounds of débris, so often referred to, past ruined aqueducts and water courses which in the time of our Lord conveyed the fertilizing streams to irrigate the plain. The mountains above us are honey-combed by cells of hermits, who came here to live useless ascetic lives, where our Lord had fasted, prayed, and been tempted of the devil. Soon we begin to ascend and find ourselves skirting the edge of a savage ravine which plunges sheer down to a depth of five hundred feet. It is the Wady Kelt—once known as the valley of the Cherith, where the prophet Elijah was fed by ravens,[[132]] and, in still earlier times, as the valley of Achor in which Achan was stoned.[[133]]
Lent by the Palestine Exploration Fund.
BATHING-PLACE OF PILGRIMS ON THE JORDAN
The ascent is continuous and steep. In a distance of about fifteen miles we rise more than three thousand feet. Hence the constant phrases “going up to Jerusalem,” “going down to Jericho.” On every side are steep mountains and wild glens, the haunt of plundering Bedouins, so that a strong and vigilant escort is needful.
About midway on our journey, we pass the ruins of an ancient khan. In accordance with oriental custom, noticed before, by which khans seldom or never change, but occupy the same spot from age to age, a halting place for travellers has stood here from immemorial antiquity. This then is the inn to which our Lord referred in his parable of the Good Samaritan. The road then, as now, was notorious for its insecurity. Reading on the spot the narrative of the traveller, who going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, was stripped, wounded, and left for dead on the road-side, every incident and detail acquired new significance and appropriateness.
From this point the wild weird desolation of the earlier part of our journey ceased, and gave place to the rounded featureless hills which characterise the scenery of Southern Palestine. About midday we reached the Ain el Haud, or “The Apostle’s Fountain,” and halted awhile. Before us rose a steep ascent up which wound a rough mountain road. It was the Mount of Olives. Reaching the summit we should look down upon Jerusalem!
RUINED AQUEDUCT NEAR JERICHO.
I proposed to one or two of our party that we should walk on alone, so as to indulge, without restraint, in the emotions which such a view would excite. The proposal was heartily agreed to, and we started. The day had been showery, and, though not actually raining at the moment, the clouds were black and heavy. Scarcely had we commenced the ascent when the rain began to fall in torrents. The stiff, tenacious mud, and the slippery sheets of rock over which the track led, made the walk very difficult; but still we persevered. Soon a miserable, ruinous, poverty-stricken hamlet came in view, standing on a plateau of rock in a slight depression on the hill-side. The pasturage around it was good and abundant, and the olive groves ought to have been a source of wealth to the inhabitants. Under a better system of government, and with a more industrious population, it might have been a bright and prosperous village; but now its only attraction consists in its hallowed associations. It is Bethany—the home of Martha and Mary and Lazarus—the one spot on earth where He who “had not where to lay his head” found a loving welcome and a peaceful home. It has always seemed to me to be not without meaning that our Lord, on his Ascension, “led his disciples out as far as to Bethany,” so that the last spot his eyes looked upon, and his feet pressed before He left the earth which rejected Him should be the one in which He had been a loved and honoured guest.
The old name of Bethany has disappeared, together with the palm-trees, which once were in such profusion as to win for it this distinctive epithet.[[134]] The memory of the raising of Lazarus has lived so vividly in Arab legend, that the name El-’Azirîyeh has supplanted the earlier and biblical one.
Of course traditional sites are pointed out for all the events of the biblical narrative. The houses of Simon and of Martha and the grave of Lazarus are shown. The former may be dismissed without a glance or thought. They are evidently modern erections, certainly not earlier than the Saracenic period, and probably much more recent. But the tomb of Lazarus may be authentic. The masonry, indeed, is modern, but the sepulchre itself, a deep recess cut into the rock, is apparently ancient, and, so far as I could judge, was originally a tomb. It is entered by a narrow passage, with twenty-five steps, leading to a cubiculum. The tradition which identifies it with “the cave,” in which the “friend,” whom “Jesus loved” was buried, has a respectable antiquity, going back, at least, to the time of Arculf (A.D. 700). Whether this be the exact spot or not, we know that very near where we stand the memorable words were uttered: “I am the Resurrection and the Life: he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.”[[135]]
Escaping from the rabble of Arabs clamouring for backshish, we resumed our journey. The rain had ceased, and a few breaks in the clouds encouraged a hope that we might gain a view of the city not utterly disappointing. But we were quite unprepared for the view which awaited us on reaching the summit of Olivet. Seen under any circumstances, it is one never to be forgotten. The deep ravine of the Kedron below us—the city on the opposite hill, with its grey venerable walls, its broad marble platform, in the centre of which stands the exquisite dome of the mosque of Omar—the picturesque mass of cupolas and minarets standing out against the sky—the surrounding valleys and hills dotted with villages and ruined towers and olive groves—need no aid from the associations of the spot to make it a most striking view. But when we add those associations—so sacred, so tender, so sublime—it is not to be wondered at that every visitor feels himself at a loss to express the emotions which it awakens.
From a Sketch by Capt. Maian.
BETHANY.
Nothing, however, which I had heard or read had prepared me for the view which broke upon us as we ascended the minaret on the summit of Olivet. The vast marble platform of the Temple, the dome of the mosque, the roofs of El-Aksa, the innumerable cupolas and flat roofs of the city, were all running with water from the heavy rain. Through rifts in the clouds long slanting beams of sunlight fell upon them with a dazzling splendour. The city flashed and shone like molten silver. All the meanness and squalor of its degradation was lost in the radiance which veiled it. The storm-clouds had drifted away eastward, and settled dark and heavy over the valley of the Dead Sea, blotting it out from view by their gloomy mass. Above the line of clouds rose the mountains of Moab, purple in the light of the descending sun. Only one more touch of beauty, only one more suggestion of hallowed thought, was possible. This was furnished by a rainbow—symbol of Divine mercy and compassion—spanning the storm-cloud which hung above the valley of Sodom. On the one side was the city of God, radiant in the “clear shining after rain;” on the other the city of destruction, veiled in darkness and gloom, yet not utterly abandoned by our gracious and covenant-keeping God.
CHURCH ON THE SUMMIT OF THE MOUNT OF OLIVES.
Impressive as is the view which bursts upon us from the summit of the Mount of Olives, even now that Jerusalem lies in its misery and degradation, it must have been far grander when our Lord, on his way from Bethany, standing upon this very spot beheld the city and wept over it, saying, “If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes.”[[136]] The valley at our feet was at least sixty feet deeper then than it is at present. The accumulation of débris, the result of repeated sieges, has not only filled it up to that extent, but has choked up the bed of the Kedron, so that it has either ceased to flow altogether, or only trickles almost imperceptibly amongst the stones. The trees which once clothed the hills and the gardens which lay along the banks of the stream have disappeared. The face of the rock upon which the Temple stands, then went down almost precipitously, so that, as Josephus tells us, the spectator, standing upon the walls, grew dizzy as he looked into the ravine below him. Now mounds of rubbish, through which Captain Warren sank a shaft to the depth of a hundred feet before he reached the virgin soil, rest against the rock and rise almost to the foot of the walls. The Temple itself was a marvel of splendour and beauty. Built of costly marbles, overlaid with gold, and adorned with jewels, it shone resplendently when the light of the rising or the setting sun fell upon it, as though another sun was setting or rising. Of all this magnificence, nothing remains save the vast marble platform upon which it stood. Well might the disciples listen with reluctance or incredulity as our Lord foretold the impending destruction of a city “beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth.”
Slowly we descended from the summit, lingering at many points to recall the hallowed associations of the scene, or turning aside to gain some fresh point of view. We remembered not only that our Lord had often trodden these very paths in his journey between Bethany and Jerusalem, or gone out to spend the night upon the Mount of Olives, “as he was wont,”[[137]] but that David, in his flight from the city “went up by the ascent of Mount Olivet and wept as he went up, and had his head covered, and he went barefoot: and all the people that was with him covered every man his head, and they went up, weeping as they went up.”[[138]]
ST. STEPHEN’S GATE.
Passing the Garden of Gethsemane, and crossing the Kedron, we entered by St. Stephen’s Gate. Skirting the Temple area, traversing the length of the Via Dolorosa, slipping on the slimy stones or plunging ankle deep into the mud of the wretched streets, we emerged at the Jaffa Gate and found our camp pitched on the edge of the Valley of Hinnom.