Yûsef Shang was a noble specimen of the Arab race. He was of medium height, well built, of full habit, with towering brow, large black eyes, handsome nose, a large, joyous mouth, and a heavy, flowing beard, which was white as snow, and beautifully contrasted the deep olive hue of his manly face. His countenance was at once benignant and intelligent. Besides, Yûsef was a clean Arab—a rarity worth a pilgrimage to see. His red boots, light-colored petticoat-trowsers, embroidered jacket, broad girdle, flowing robes of yellow Broussa silk, and a bright checkered turban, were neat enough for a picture. In his silken girdle he wore a brass inkhorn, a foot in length, with a small square bulb of the same material on the side near the end, rendered perfectly tight by a thin plate of the same metal, and containing in the long part a case for the reed pens, which are secured by a brass cap.His appearance recalled Ezekiel’s description of the man clothed with linen, with a writer’s inkhorn by his side.[455]
In the East there is a class of men, called scribes, who write for the common people. They sit at the corners of the streets, and persons wishing a letter written dictate the matter, while the scribe performs the penmanship. Deeming it an inelegance to write upon a table, the paper is placed upon the left hand, and the writer forms the graceful characters of the Arabic language, writing from right to left. Yûsef was such a scribe, and had risen to eminence in his profession. Having read our letter with an air of great consideration, he saluted us in the most gracious manner, and invited us to his abode. Following him through a narrow lane to the gate of his court, we dismounted, and, after removing saddles and saddle-bags, led our horses through a covered stone passage-way to the entrance of his dwelling. Yûsef’s superb dress and elegant bearing hadprepared us to expect an entertainment not unlike the festive scenes so wondrously described in the Arabian Nights. But never were two things more unlike, and never was the outside of the plates cleaner nor the inside filthier. His house was a wretched stone hut, entered by a low doorway. The interior consisted of a single room, divided into two apartments by a raised platform a foot high. The platform served the triple purpose of kitchen, chamber, and parlor, the walls and ceiling were dingy with smoke and dirt, and a few old mats spread upon the floor were the only furniture of his home. At the foot of the platform, beneath the same roof, was his stable, and in one corner stood Yûsef’s favorite ass.
“Come in, come in, gentlemen,” cried our host, “and bring your horses with you; there is plenty of room, and you are welcome.” Leading my horse, I entered; but the ass brayed so furiously, and kicked with such rapidity and violence, that I was compelled to retreat. Despite my protest, Yûsef refused to turn his ass into the cold, and calmly suggested that I could take my horse on the platform with me. Refusing to turn Arab, I declined, and turned to procure quarters elsewhere. The power of money upon an Arab’s soul is above calculation. Fearing that he might lose the customary present in return for his hospitality, Yûsef led his ass forth, braying and kicking as it went. Our host had previously sent the female members of his family away, lest the eye of a stranger should fall upon them, and left us the sole occupants of his dwelling. Spreading our blankets upon the platform, we commenced our frugal repast, but the fleas of Beeroth came upon us in such numbers as to force another retreat. We were again houseless. The sky was clear and the stars shone softly upon us, and we determined to sleep beneath the pure starlit heavens. Yûsef, however, succeeded in procuring for our use the council-room of the town, which was a large square apartment, with heavy arched ceiling, fireplace, and niche. The walls were black with the smoke of years, and the atmosphere stale and noisome. Here we spread our mats, and, with a saddle for a pillow, spent the night. The ground floor of the building was occupied by a family, who, for a few piastres, sheltered my horse. It was here I had an illustration of the story of Bethlehem. The same room served as a dwelling and a stable, divided by a platform, on which an Arab woman waskneading bread and a lad was tending an infant child. The occupants’ ass having been turned out, I led my horse in. In one corner of the stable was a large stone manger, excavated in the living rock. Such, probably, was the internal arrangement of the inn at Bethlehem; and as the platform was occupied by other guests, Joseph and Mary lodged in the stable, and cradled the infant Savior in the stone manger.
Beeroth is situated on a rocky ridge, and contains a population of 800 Moslems and thirty Christians. It is mentioned in connection with the league formed between the embassadors of Gibeon and Joshua, but aside from this it has no scriptural significance. During the reign of the Latin kings it rose to importance, and the remaining ruins attest the antiquity of the site and the former elegance of the place. In the northwest part of the village is the old Gothic church, built by the Knights Templars centuries ago. It is a beautiful ruin, and reminds one of the ruined abbeys of Southern Scotland. The walls, the eastern apse, and the sacristy are standing, and inclose an area 100 feet long and sixty-three wide. The material is limestone well dressed, and the interior may have consisted of a nave, two lateral aisles, and three recesses in the eastern end. The finish of the architecture is exquisite. The apses are crowned with beautiful domed roofs, and the partition walls are ornamented with pilasters, the capitals of which are well preserved. The side walls are divided into sections by pilasters, and are decorated with a rich cornice. But it is now a green ruin. The grass grows where, of old, knights knelt in prayer, and where robed priests chanted their Ave Marias.
On leaving the church I witnessed a beautiful illustration of our Lord’s parable of the “good shepherd.” Three shepherds were leading their flocks to pasture, and, though near each other, there was neither confusion nor intermingling. Such is the richness of the native language in adjectives, that a shepherd gives to each member of his flock a name descriptive of some characteristic, which is as familiar to the sheep as to himself. A lamb had lingered behind picking the fresh grass of spring, and, though other voices were sounding at the time, the truant lamb heard its shepherd’s voice and ran to the fold.“The sheep hear his voice, and he calleth his own sheep by name.”[456]
Three miles to the north is ancient Bethel. As we advancedthe country grew in richness and beauty, reminding us that we were approaching the favored inheritance of Ephraim. Passing a small fountain gushing from the foot of a cliff, in less than half an hour we knelt in prayer where, twenty-five centuries ago, Jacob slept to dream of angels. The silence of desolation now reigns where once was heard the voice of gladness. Quietly a few maidens came to the fountain, as in the days of the patriarchs, whose homes stand amid the débris of former glory. The ancient city occupied a low ridge between two small valleys, which converge on the southeast and run into Wady Suweinît, the great thoroughfare to Ai and Jericho. Portions of foundations, fragments of walls, and heaps of hewn stone cover an area of four acres. On the summit of the hill are the remains of a square tower, and to the south of it are the walls of a Greek church.Beyond the town, to the east, is the mountain on which Abraham pitched his tent and built an altar unto the Lord, having Bethel on the west and Ai on the east;[457]and there, three years later, he and his nephew stood, choosing different portions of the land for their respective flocks.[458] From the summit of that ridge, the whole plain of the Jordan, which so charmed the eyes of Lot, is seen; and the possessions of six of the tribes lay before the vision of Abraham, to whom the Lord on that occasion repeated the promise to give the whole land to his servant.
A few feet from the hill, located in the western valley, is the great Fountain of Bethel. It is inclosed with an oblong basin 314 feet long and 217 wide, which is constructed of large stones, many of which are yet in situ. The southern wall is still entire, but, owing to long disuse, the others are nearly gone. Grass now covers the bottom of the reservoir, and beautiful flowers bloom around the crystal spring.
It was probably in this lovely valley that Jacob had his wondrous vision. He had come from Beersheba, a distance of seventy miles. This long journey, however, is not in harmony with the common belief that the dream occurred on the first night after leaving his father’s house. Urged on by the dread of an injured brother, he slept the first night beside the graves of his ancestors at Hebron, thirty-six miles from the patriarchal groves of Beersheba; rising early and passing through the vineyards of Eshcol, he rested at noon the next day at Bethlehem,seventeen miles from Hebron, and near the spot where, twenty years later, he buried his beautiful Rachel; six miles beyond he passed Jerusalem on the right, the future capital of his mighty posterity; and late in the evening of the second day, the stranger and weary traveler reached Bethel, eleven miles farther northward. The gates of the city were closed, and, like the pilgrim Arab of to-day, he selected a stone for his pillow, and, wrapping his capote or cloak about him, lay down to peaceful slumber. In a land where customs never change, such beds and pillows are not uncommon now, and thus are explained not only the story of the fugitive, but also our Lord’s command to the sick of the palsy,“Arise, take up thy bed, and walk.”[459] The bed was simply a coarse thick cloak of camel’s hair.
In this retired vale, and beside this same fountain, Jacob dreamed of the Invisible, and awoke exclaiming, “How dreadful is this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” Here the shining ones came down, and here Jehovah calmed the troubled spirit of the sleeper by the promise of protection. Cheered by the gracious promises of the Almighty, Jacob awoke, and, as a memorial monument, set up the stone that had served as a pillow, and anointed it with oil to seal the covenant he had made. Whether he was the first to conceive of building a church to God, and whether that is the sense of the text,Bethel became a sanctuary for his descendants.[460] When he returned after an absence of twenty years,here the faithful Deborah died, and he buried her under an oak, to which he gave the name of Allon Bachuth—“the oak of weeping.”[461] Destined to live in history in all coming time, Bethel became the scene of many great and thrilling events.It was the place where Samuel held his circuit court, in connection with Mizpah and Gilgal.[462] Subsequently to the death of Solomon, and the rending in twain of his vast empire, Bethel became the imperial rival of Jerusalem, and was polluted with an idol temple, in which Jeroboam placed a golden calf. It was against this abomination the prophet cried:“O altar, altar, thus saith the Lord, Behold, a child shall be born unto the house of David, Josiah by name; and upon thee shall he offer the priests of the high places that burn incense upon thee, and men’s bones shall be burnt upon thee.”[463]Offended at the boldnessof the seer, the king sought to smite him, but in the attempt his arm was smitten with paralysis.[464]On this slope lived the old prophet who over-persuaded the Lord’s servant to enter his house, contrary to the divine injunction, and by the wayside is the tomb in which both were interred.[465] Chosen for its central location, years later Bethel became a school for the prophets,and hither Elijah came on the day of his translation.[466] And three centuries and a half after the utterance of the prediction, Josiah destroyed the temple and altar of Jeroboam, but spared the tomb of the Judæan seer.[465]
To-day Bethel is a witness against herself. Her hills and valleys are barren, and her ruins are the evidences of her decay. God has forsaken her; his will is done; his word is fulfilled. “Seek not Bethel, nor enter into Gilgal; for Gilgal shall surely go into captivity, and Bethel shall come to naught.”[466] The roll of twenty-five centuries has confirmed the prophetic announcement, and time and ruins are the credentials of the prophet. In vain we searched for the memorials of the past. Neither Abraham’s altar, nor Jacob’s pillar, nor Deborah’s oak, nor Jeroboam’s temple, nor the school of the prophets, could be found. These all have perished, and Bethel mourns her departed glory. The heavens are sealed; the ladder is withdrawn; the angels descend no more; and faith, hope, and charity are the only remaining steps by which to reach the heavenly world.