From Dan to Beersheba / A Description of the Wonderful Land, with Maps and Engravings and a Prologue by the Author Containing the Latest Explorations and Discoveries

by John Philip Newman

JACOB’S WELL.

Returning to the surface of the ground, and sitting beside the well whither the sons and daughters of the patriarchs had often come for water, and perchance where the Master had sat, I read its thrilling history as recorded by Moses and by John. With an accuracy that must claim the faith of every candid mind, all the facts of the sacred narrative are in harmony with the physical features of the scene.Stretching out to the north, east, and south is the parcel of a field Jacob bought of Hamor for a hundred pieces of money,[486] and on its western border is the well. The three great religious sects agree as to its identity, and its site has been preserved in the memory and affections of man through an unbroken tradition to our own time. To one not conversant with Eastern customs it would appear improbable that a man as shrewd and prudent as Jacob would be at the expense and labor of excavating a well so near the living springs in the upper valley, which have always poured their irrigating waters down the Vale of Shechem. But the reflection on the prudence and economy of the patriarch is removed by the consideration of the well-known fact that in the East water is more valuable than land, and a higher value is set upon a well or spring than upon fields of pasture. “Pasture your flocks on my hills and plains, but let my wells alone,” is the only request the Oriental makes of the stranger. In a land where water is scarce, every proprietor aims to have a well of his own, which he guards with peculiar vigilance. The custom of digging wells on a newly-purchased estate is as old as Abraham and Isaac; and as in their times, so now, there are more quarrels over wells of water than over fields of grain. Subject to the same social laws, Jacob but indicated his wisdom and conformed to an acknowledged usage in first purchasing a field and then digging a well. Accepting a tradition so venerable, I yielded to the full enjoyment which such a scene is calculated to afford, and the week I spent at Nablous I never wearied in my journeyings to drink of these delicious waters.

Interesting as were the patriarchal associations of the place, it was with unmingled delight I read the beautiful story of our Lord’s conversation with the woman of Samaria. Had St. John written the incidents of the Savior’s journey from Jerusalem to Sychar with a previous knowledge that his narrativewould be subjected to a searching criticism by the enemies of Divine truth, he could not have written with greater accuracy. As the facts of topography on which the traveler relies for the credibility of the story are recorded merely as incidents to the story itself, the correspondence between the statement and the fact is the more wonderful and convincing. Deeming it prudent to escape the snare of the Pharisees, “Jesus left Judea and departed again into Galilee.” To reach his destination “he must needs go through Samaria.” Reaching Jacob’s Well at noon, he rested, it being on the direct road to Galilee by way of Tirzah, while his disciples, turning to the left, passed up the Vale of Shechem to the city to purchase refreshments. During their absence came the “woman of Samaria,” with cord and pitcher, to draw water. He who had made the fountains of earth and sky requested, “Give me to drink.” As at most Eastern wells there is neither wheel, chain, nor bucket, and surprised at his promise to give living waters, her reply was no less natural than truthful: “Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep.” Hoping to divert his attention from the irregularities of her life, she introduced the relative claims of the Jews and Samaritans to religious superiority. Rising up before them was Mount Gerizim, to which in turn each pointed in their allusions to the noble sanctuary crowning its summit. Looking with compassion upon the Samaritans, anticipating the great work to be wrought among them, and impressed with the necessity of immediately laboring in their behalf, he pointed to the ripe Plains of Mukhnah, warning his disciples not to say,“There are yet four months and then cometh harvest; behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes and look on the fields, for they are white already to harvest.”[487]

While Jews and Samaritans, Christians and Moslems, agree that this is the Well of Sychar, the ever-restless skepticism of modern times has called in question its otherwise undisputed identity. Because it is two miles from the city of Shechem, it is judged too far away for the woman to have come for water. Nothing, however, is said in the text to cause us to suppose she came from the city; and if she had come from what is now known as Nablous, there are reasons for supposing that the ancient city extended farther east than the present one.Like the village of Belât, her native town might have been adjacent to the spot; or at the noon hour she might have come from an adjoining field, where, with other peasant women, she had spent the morning in the toils of husbandry.

But, in the unmistakable fulfillment of our Lord’s prophecy, time has furnished even a stronger proof of Bible inspiration than the exact correspondence between the narration of the event and the description of the scene. The woman of Samaria is dead; the disciples, one by one, have all passed to their reward; the Redeemer has ascended to glory; Gerizim is a desolation; Moriah is the shrine of Mohammed; and the prophetic words of Jesus, that first fell from his lips on the soft air of the Vale of Shechem, and were whispered back by the winds from Ebal and Gerizim, are now heard in all the valleys and on all the mountain summits in two hemispheres.

The tomb of Joseph is in sight of his father’s well, around which he was wont to play when young.When dying in the palace of Pharaoh, he had taken an oath of the children of Israel that they should “carry up his bones from hence;”[488] and, true to their solemn vow,“the bones of Joseph, which the children of Israel brought up out of the land of Egypt, buried they in Shechem, in a parcel of ground which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamor, the father of Shechem.”[489] Crossing a stream on which stands an old mill belonging to the village of Belât, we descended into the plain, and, passing through rich corn-fields half a mile to the north, we came to a small square area inclosed by a white plastered wall, marking the spot where sleeps in peace he who was the darling son, the wandering shepherd, the captive youth, Potiphar’s slave, Asenath’s betrothed, Pharaoh’s prime minister, the preserver of his country, the joy of a dying father, the exemplary saint, and the model man. How strangely the lines of human actions cross each other in the orderings of Providence! What beautiful coincidences transpire beneath his benign sway! The parcel of land his father purchased of Hamor is now the place of Joseph’s sepulchre, and in the very field where he was lost he now rests in death. And though the spot is unmarked by stately granite or marble shaft, Ebal, the mountain of his boyhood, is his imposing tomb-stone, and over the whitened wall a vine is now creeping, the symbol chosen by his dying fatherto preintimate the prosperity of a beloved son:“Joseph is a fruitful bough, even a fruitful bough by a wall, whose branches run over the wall.”[490]

It was five o’clock on a bright spring morning when, attended by a solitary guide, I descended the Vale of Nablous to where the valley widens, and began to ascend the Mount of Cursing. The sun was just peering over the hills of Ephraim, transforming the dew-drops into sparkling jewels, and awakening the matin notes of unnumbered songsters. In an hour we gained the summit; and though the horizon was misty, limiting the view, the familiar peaks of Moab rose above the fog-clouds like islands in the ocean. The sides of Ebal are rough, and its summit broad and stony. A solitary goat-path leads over the mountain to the valleys beyond. Shepherds were roving with their flocks in quest of pasture, and peasants were hastening to their daily toil. The attritions of time and the sacrilegious hand of plunder have destroyed the altar Joshua reared to Jehovah. From its highest peak a noble view is obtained of the fertile hills and valleys to the east, and of the lofty Tellûzeh,the renowned Tirzah, whose beauties Solomon has embalmed in immortal song,[491]and which was once the rival of Shechem as the seat of royalty.[492]

Returning to Nablous, we passed out of the western gate to ascend the Mount of Blessings.At the portal stood a group of lepers, perhaps the descendants of Gehazi, who was cursed with the leprosy of Naaman.[493] Poor creatures, how sad they looked! Their ulcered faces, dull, restless eyes, languid, husky voices, and tattered garments presented a mournful spectacle of fallen humanity. Excluded from society like those of Jerusalem, they live distinct, to grieve, rot, and die in their wretched hovels. Standing afar off and arranging themselves in a semicircle, twenty men and women, in tones of pity, asked our charities. No sight among living things that meets the traveler’s eye recalls the days of the benevolent Savior so vividly as the appearance of lepers. Perhaps it was in this same city that“there met him ten men that were lepers, which stood afar off. And they lifted up their voices and said, Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.”[494] Distributing bread among the poor creatures, we turned to the left and began the ascent. Ourpath led up a glen of rare beauty, and from a ridge to the south of the town we looked down upon the noble site of the city stretching nearly across the valley, and from amid palms and trees of exquisite foliage rose domes and minarets. Just above the ridge, in a sequestered spot, is the large fountain of ’Asal. Its clear waters, being first gathered into immense troughs, are then conducted by an aqueduct to a mill, from which they flow down the hill-side into a quiet dell rich with shrubs and flowers. Crossing the stream, we followed the path trodden by many ancient pilgrims, and passed through groves of figs and almonds, in the branches of which birds were singing merrily. Here the hill-sides were terraced, supporting groves of fruit-trees and also vineyards. Beyond the orchards the path was steep and stony, and turning abruptly to the left, after half an hour’s hard climbing we reached the summit of Gerizim. The top is a broad, irregular plateau, covered with heaps of stones and the remains of vast structures. Crowning a rocky knoll is the white wely seen from the Heights of Ephraim. From the roof a view is obtained rivaling that from Neby Samwîl in the extent and variety of the prospect. Far to the east, like a massive wall, stand the trans-Jordanic mountains; on the south a succession of green hills appear as far as the eye can reach; on the west are seen patches of the Plain of Sharon, and through openings in the hills are caught glimpses of the Mediterranean; while dimly in the hazy northern sky Hermon rises, covered with snow and tinged with a purple hue. In all its wealth and beauty, at the mountain base lies the Plain of Mukhnah, stretching eastward a broad green arm amid the dark hills of Ephraim. Indistinctly the modern town of Sâlim appears on its western border, supposed to mark the site of Shalem, where Jacob pitched his tent. Seen in the rays of the setting sun, the plain resembles a magnificent carpet of vast dimensions, of curious figures, and of variant hues, the chocolate-color of the soil, the light green of the corn, the sombre hue of the olive, the dull gray of the protruding rocks, and the purple and azure tints of the hills harmoniously blending.

Of the nature and origin of the immense ruins covering the summit of Gerizim but little is known. There is one vast structure, now in ruins, consisting of two adjacent parts, measuring 400 feet in length and 250 in breadth, with the remainsof square towers at each corner. Consisting of blocks of limestone with beveled edges and rough centres, they are regarded by some as the remains of the once grand temple of the Samaritans, and by others as portions of the great fortress here erected by the Emperor Justinian. Though the Samaritans reject these ruins as part of their temple, yet they point to many of their sacred places. Beneath the western wall of what is now called the castle are twelve flat stones, and under them are said to be the veritable twelve stones that Joshua brought up out of the Jordan as memorials of the miraculous dividing of the water. A few yards to the south is their “Holy of Holies.” Irregular in form, it is a smooth-faced natural rock, measuring 45 feet in diameter, and gently declining toward a deep-hewn pit called their sanctum sanctorum. Regarding it as holy ground, they always remove their shoes before stepping upon it; and as truly as the Moslem turns toward Mecca in the moment of prayer, and the Jew toward Jerusalem, so truly do the Samaritans turn toward this rock-hewn cavern in the time of devotion. Contrary to all history and to all tradition, they claim it as the scene of the offering of Isaac, of Jacob’s vision, as the place where the Tabernacle was first set up, and where the Ark rested. Sacred and profane history is too explicit to countenance either of these assumptions; and, besides the unanimous voice of history, the distance from Beersheba to Gerizim is too great to have been accomplished in three days by Abraham and his son. Even had the Father of the Faithful followed the Plain of Philistia, and on the morning of the third day from the Plain of Sharon seen Gerizim, the difficulty of distance would not have been obviated by such a route, as it would have required him to travel thirty miles a day for the first two days and twenty miles of heavy mountain-climbing for the third; and as he and Isaac returned to the young men the same day, the distance would have been much greater. Not far from these ruins is a rectangular area, surrounded with a low stone fence, called the Temple of the Samaritans. Here they annually assemble, pitch their tents, and eat the Passover. Near the inclosure is a circular pit, three feet in diameter and ten deep, in which the paschal lambs are roasted. I was fortunate enough to be present on the 23d of April to witness the celebration of the feast of the Samaritan Passover. According to their custom, theirwhole community, to the number of 130 souls, consisting of men, women, and children, had ascended the mount and pitched their tents, some of which were white and others of variegated colors, upon its broad summit. The day being regarded by them as a gala-day, all were attired in their gayest costumes, and all rejoiced in the historic significance of the occasion. Occupying an elevated position, the ceremonies were conducted by the venerable high-priest, assisted by his two sons. The male portion of the congregation stood in a group on a small mound, chanting psalms and reciting portions of the Pentateuch, while the females remained in and around the tents. In a group stood seven Levites clad in white garments, each holding by the head a lamb without spot or blemish; near them were large caldrons of boiling water, to scald the sheep like swine, instead of flaying them, as in the ordinary way; and beyond was the circular furnace, already heated, to roast the offering. The going down of the sun was the appointed time to slay the paschal lambs. As the day declined, each face was turned toward the west, eagerly watching the last ray of the setting sun. At length the solemn moment came; the high-priest waved his hand as the signal for the slaughter; in an instant each lamb was slain and lay bleeding at the Levite’s feet. Not a sound was heard. Each worshiper bowed his face to the earth, his forehead touching the ground. After an interval of silent prayer, all arose, greeted each other with a holy kiss, and parents sprinkled the blood of the victims upon the forehead of their first-born. The scalding of the sheep followed, and after the fleece had been removed, the seven lambs were suspended on heavy oaken spits, and with much ceremony placed in the heated furnace. It was night before the feast was ready. The paschal moon had risen in unclouded beauty upon the rugged summit of Gerizim, and many a one had fallen asleep, like the three disciples in Tabor. At length a shout is heard—the feast is ready! The lambs being removed from the furnace, the priest’s portion was first presented to him, and then the whole company, except those women ceremonially unclean,ate the flesh with bitter herbs and with unleavened bread, in haste, with their loins girded, their shoes on their feet, and their staffs in their hand.[495]