Tabor rises 2000 feet above the level of the sea, and the prospect from its summit is one of extraordinary grandeur. The eye sweeps over the Mountains of Samaria, the long ridge of Carmel, the Bay of Haifa, the Plain of ’Akka, the Hills of Galilee, the lofty peak of Safed, the “Horns of Hattîn,” the majestic form of Hermon, the gray walls of Moab, the dark line of verdure defining the banks of the Jordan, while nearer are the slopes of Gilboa, the rocks of Duhy, and the glorious Plain of Esdraelon, like one unbroken sea of verdure, with its borders dotted with the hamlets of Jezreel, El-Fuleh, Shunem,Nain, and Endor. And no less significant is the thrilling history of Tabor.Tabor was the northern boundary-line of the tribe of Issachar;[535]here the heroic Deborah and Barak assembled the children of Zebulon and Naphtali to fight against Sisera;[536]years later it was the rendezvous of the brothers of Gideon—“each one resembled the children of a king”—whom Zebah and Zalmunna slew;[537] and at a later period it became the scene of Israel’s idolatry, whose priests Hosea denounces for having“been a snare on Mizpah and a net spread on Tabor.”[538] Bold in its outline and firm upon its everlasting base,the inspired writers chose it as a symbol of glory—“Tabor and Hermon shall rejoice in thy name,”[539] and as typical of the Lord’s unchangeable word,“Surely as Tabor is among the mountains, and as Carmel is by the sea, so shall Pharaoh come.”[540] Naturally one of the strong-holds of the land and the key of the plain, it became in our own era the head-quarters of Josephus, as it had been in the year 218 B.C. the strong-hold of Antiochus the Great. But there is one historic honor which does not belong to Tabor, and, if it did, would not enhance the glory of its associations. Proverbial for the application of real or fancied names to the scenes of the great events in their martial annals, and ever fond of a high-sounding name, the French have designated the conflict which occurred on the Plains of El-Fuleh as the “Battle of Mount Tabor.” But as the village of El-Fuleh, where Kleber met the advanced guard of the Turks, and which afterward became the central point of attack, is ten miles to the southeast from Tabor, with equal propriety it might have been called the battle of Mount Carmel, and with greater consistency the battle of Mount Gilboa. The simple fact of Napoleon’s army coming from Nazareth and sweeping round the northeastern base of Tabor is not sufficient to justify the misnomer, nor warrant the application of the name of this most sacred of “mountains” to a battle fought by a chieftain who had invaded the Holy Land on an ambitious crusade.
But the glory of Tabor is the transfiguration of our Lord. Anxiously I sought to identify the spot of that wondrous scene, that I might look up into the same serene heavens from which came the voice of approval, and in which appeared Moses andElias. High up on the northern slopes, far away from the ruins of the ancient village, is a lovely glade, inclosed with oaks and adorned with flowers. Shut in from the world, all nature breathes a sense of repose, and a holy quiet reigns within undisturbed. The view of the blue skies is unobstructed, and here in the “stilly night,” watched only by the stars, the Son of God held converse with Moses and Elias touching “his decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem;” and, as a pre-intimation of his glorified body after his ascension, “the fashion of his body was altered, and his raiment was white and glistening.”
For nearly sixteen centuries Tabor has been regarded as the veritable scene of this great event, and not till within a few years has its claim been called in question. The chief argument against this venerable tradition is drawn from the itinerary of the Evangelists, in which Cæsarea Philippi is mentioned as the last place where Christ had taught previous to his transfiguration. It has been suggested that the probable scene of the event is somewhere on the southern ridge of Hermon. More than once, while on its noble summit, I had occasion to regret that the doubt of its identity had been suggested to my mind, and the more so as the author of the suggestion had nothing better to offer; but the examination which I felt compelled to make not only removed all reasonable doubts, but, proving entirely satisfactory, confirmed the impression of earlier years, and added to the joy of the moment. If our Lord had been transfigured immediately or on the next day after the conversation with his disciples touching men’s opinions as to himself, there would be some force in the objection;but two of the evangelists inform us that the event occurred six days[541] after this conversation, and St. Luke assures us it took place“about eight days after these sayings.”[542] The distance between Cæsarea Philippi and the summit of Tabor is less than 18 hours, or less than 54 miles, which, on foot or otherwise, can be accomplished in less than three days, thus giving sufficient time for the journey between the two places. And it is a fact equally significant, that immediately after our Lord had been transfigured we find him in the vicinity of Tabor at Capernaum, which is but 21 miles over an excellent road to the northeast; thence crossing the Jordan at the head of the lake,“he departed from Galilee, and came into the coasts of Judea beyond Jordan;”[543] all of which is consistent with the location of the several places in leaving Mount Tabor for the north, but which would not be true if our Lord came southward from the slopes of Hermon. It has also been objected that, from the days of Joshua to the time of Antiochus the Great, Tabor has been an inhabited mountain, and, as such, would have been inappropriate for the retirement of Christ and his three disciples; but history simply intimates that during fifteen centuries the mount had been the rendezvous of belligerent armies, and that, in process of time, its summit was fortified; but in the times of Josephus the defenses had fallen into decay, and he caused them to be rebuilt about thirty years subsequent to our Lord’s ascension. If inhabited at all when Christ ascended its verdant slopes, it was only by a few wretched villagers, such as may be seen in their mud huts, or clinging to ancient ruins in other parts of Palestine; and, though its summit were inhabited, yet, owing to the peculiar configuration of the mount, its high northern acclivities are singularly retired. It is a remarkable fact, that, though accustomed to withdraw from the world for meditation and prayer, Christ never chose a “howling wilderness” as the place of his devotion, but always an inhabited mountain. Even the Mount of Olives, rendered doubly sacred by the frequency of his presence, was in his day, as now, a populous mountain, but in some of its wooded dells was his bower of prayer. Jesus sought the haunts of men, and, like a great warrior sleeping in the midst of his camp, he was ever with his people. St. Luke more than intimates that the transfiguration occurred during the darkness and silence of the night. Referring to the miracle wrought immediately after the descent, he states,“And it came to pass, that on the next day, when they were come down from the hill, much people met him.”[544] Such an hour for the display of the divine majesty was singularly appropriate. During the day he would have been subject to intrusion from wandering shepherds and strolling hunters on any mountain in Palestine; but under the cover of the night he would have been unmolested by either, as the former are stationary in the midst of their flocks at that time, and the latter are unable to pursue their vocation. If the vision transpired in the daytime, why were the disciples overcome withsleep? The suggestion of Peter to build three tabernacles or booths, or provide some temporary shelter made of branches of trees, according to a custom still prevalent in the East, is more than an intimation that night had overtaken them, and, supposing their heavenly guests would tarry with them, they desired to shelter them from the dews of the night.
It was two o’clock on Saturday afternoon when we left the small village of Debûrieh, at the base of Mount Tabor, for the Sea of Galilee. Riding up a fruitful valley, in an hour we came to a branching road—one branch leading directly to Tiberias, and the other to the mouth of the Jordan. Either from ignorance or villainy, an Arab directed us to follow the latter path, which caused us to be benighted, and greatly endangered our safety. The mistake, however, was to our advantage in the end, as we passed through a tract of country rarely visited by travelers, owing to the turbulent and thievish character of the population. Turning eastward, the path lay along the crest of a mountain ridge, where the peasantry of both sexes were engaged in husbandry. Occasionally we passed the extensive ruins of unknown towns, and now and then entered villages remarkable only for their wretchedness and filth. Whether to display their horsemanship or test our courage, three mounted Arabs, armed with Bedouin swords, pistols, and lances 20 feet long, issued from one of those miserable hamlets, and, singing a war-song, dashed by us at a furious speed, when, suddenly wheeling, with their lances leveled at our breasts, they rushed toward us as if to plunge us through. Finding their equestrian feats neither awakened our fears nor inspired our admiration, they returned to their village and allowed us to pursue our unfrequented path. From the summit of the mountain we were crossing we gained a noble view of the Vale of Tiberias and its circlet of green hills. Cheered by the prospect of reaching our destination at an early hour, we rapidly descended 1000 feet into the wild gorge of Fejas, flanked by lofty mountains, and followed the banks of a beautiful stream lined with shrubbery and gorgeous oleanders. Charmed with the surrounding scenery, and confiding in our Arab guide, we passed the hours happily, nor were our suspicions aroused that we had been misdirected till it was too late to retrace our steps. Referring to our maps, we found ourselves in the wild and uninhabited Vale of Fejas, which terminatesin the valley of the Jordan, 10 miles to the south from Tiberias. Straining our eyes, as we wound round each jutting cliff, to catch a glimpse through the opening hills of the vale we had seen from the heights above, at length, in the dusk of the evening, we reached the upper terraces of the Jordan. Under other circumstances we would have surveyed the new landscape with delight; but we were now benighted, miles from a human habitation, in a country notorious for its robberies, and with skies already black with the coming storm. Closing up together so as to form a circle with our horses, we held a council, and discussed the question of advancing or encamping for the night. Far to the east, beyond the rushing river, we could discover, by its faint lights, the solitary village of Kanâtir, but were not near enough to reach it before we should be overtaken by the darkness and the storm. Tiberias was 10 miles to the north; night was now upon us; the skies were cloudy; the rain began to fall; the path to the ancient capital of Galilee was unknown, and we were without a guide. Against remaining where we were were the serious facts that our cuisine was empty, and we were without provender for our mules and horses. Deciding to proceed, we forded several torrents, and, on ascending a broad upland plateau, in the darkness of the hour plunged into a marsh, into which our horses sank to their haunches. Crossing a barley-field which had been reaped, we met two mounted Arabs, whom we understood to say that Tiberias was but half an hour to the north. Cheered by the good news, we urged on our jaded beasts to their utmost speed, now stumbling over rocks, now floundering in the soft, marshy soil. But, as we advanced, the darkness increased; each friendly star had withdrawn its guiding ray, and the rain fell in torrents. Part of the company made directly for the shore, while two of us continued on the upland to report the first glimmer of the distant lights of Tiberias. Onward we rode; the hours dragged heavily by. Near midnight the clouds dispersed, and familiar stars came out one by one, and looked softly down upon the lost and weary travelers. The beautiful lake lay quietly in its mountain bed, and the repose of night rested on all nature, undisturbed save by the rippling wave breaking faintly on the pebbled shore, or the sudden leap of the jackal or flight of the stork, startled by the sound of our coming. Beguiling theweary hours by the recollections of the past, hunger and fatigue were forgotten as the visions of other years rose up before my mind, and, by the realization of a sublime faith, I beheld the Redeemer treading the troubled bosom of Gennesaret in the darkness and storm of night, as in the days of old. It was now past midnight; we had failed to reach Tiberias; we knew not the distance to be traveled; and, determining to encamp, we pitched our tents upon the sandy beach, tethered our hungry horses, and, contenting ourselves with a little rice and mish-mish, we laid down to fitful slumber.
The peaceful Sabbath dawned without a cloud. While yet the night struggled with the morn, I ascended a bold bluff, commanding a glorious view. The skies were soft and warm; the mellow light of day lined the east; the sea was placid as an embowered lake, and the surrounding hills were yet dreamy with the haze of night. The impressions of that hour were as hallowed as their memory is imperishable. It was the first time, by the light of day, that I looked upon that most sacred of lakes. Returning to the tent, we learned, to our happy surprise, from a passing Arab, that we were within half an hour’s ride of Tiberias. Compelled by the necessities of the case, we passed quietly up the coast and encamped within the walls of the ancient city just as the Jewish population, attired in their most costly robes, were hastening to their devotions around the sepulchres of their fathers.
CHAPTER XIII.
Jerusalem and Capernaum the great Centres of our Lord’s Ministry.—Christ a limited Traveler.—Judea and Galilee contrasted.—Provinces of Galilee.—The Herods.—Meaning of Galilee.—Sea of Galilee.—Its Characteristics.—Hallowed Associations.—Imperial City of Tiberias.—Founded by Herod Antipas.—His Crimes.—John the Baptist.—It became a Jewish City and the Metropolis of the Race.—Home of eminent Scholars.—Now an Arab Town.—Citizens.—Miraculous Draught of Fishes.—Jesus never visited it.—Warm Baths of Tiberias.—Site of Tarichea.—Naval Engagement.—Bridge of Semakh.—River Jarmuk.—City of Gadara.—Ruins.—Tombs.—Not the Scene of the Destruction of the Swine.—Argument.—Ruins of Gamala.—Near here was the Scene of the Miracle.—Mouth of the Jordan.—Bethsaida Julias.—Feeding of the Five Thousand.—Our Lord Walking on the Sea.—Home of Mary Magdalene.—Rich Plain of Gennesaret.—Parables.—Site of Capernaum.—Fountain of the Fig.—Thrilling History of the City as connected with Christ.—The Woe.—Desolation.—Bethsaida.—Birthplace of Peter, James, and John.—Not Bethsaida Julias.—Influence of natural Scenery upon the Formation of Character.—Chorazin.—Sudden Gale upon the Sea.—Extensive Remains of the City.—Without an Inhabitant.—Upper Jordan.—Waters of Merom.—Tell el-Kâdy.—City of Dan.—Its Fountain.—Cæsarea Philippi.—Town of Hasbeiya.—Fountain.—Highest perennial Source of the Jordan.—Mount Hermon.—Vast and grand Prospect from its lofty Summit.—Scriptural Allusions.—“Valley of the Pigeons.”—Sublime Ravine.—Mount of Beatitudes.—Battle of Hattin.—Defeat of the Crusaders.—Triumph of Saladin.—Route to Nazareth.—Its authentic History is not older than the Christian Era.—Its Valley and Mountains.—Population.—Schools.—Legendary Sites.—Scene of the Annunciation.—House and Shop of Joseph.—Pictures.—Fountain.—Beautiful Girls of Nazareth.—Mount of Precipitation.—True Mount.—View.—Scene of our Lord’s Childhood and Manhood.
Galilee and Judea share the mutual honor of having been the principal spheres of our Lord’s public life. Indeed, those spheres may be reduced to two central points, Jerusalem and Capernaum. Occasionally we trace his footsteps to the Mediterranean—“to the coasts of Tyre and Sidon” in the west, and among the mountains of Gilead, beyond the Jordan, on the east; but it is an extraordinary fact that he never went south of Jerusalem, not even to the city that gave him birth, and only asfar north as Cæsarea Philippi. Though a limited and infrequent traveler, he chose the great centres of life in which to unfold the doctrines he came to announce, and to perform the miracles he offered to mankind in attestation of his divine mission. As the scene of his death, resurrection, and ascension, Jerusalem will ever stand pre-eminent in Christian affection; but Capernaum will ever be memorable as the city of his adoption after his rejection by the ungrateful Nazarenes. Spending most of his public life on the shores of the Galilean Sea, he called his apostles from the fisheries of Gennesaret; from its teeming population he founded his infant Church; among its inhabitants he performed his grandest miracles; to them he delivered his most impressive parables; and overhanging the sea is the “Mount of Beatitudes,” the pulpit from which he preached his incomparable “sermon on the mount.” In contrast to the cruel treatment he received in Judea, the Galileans ever welcomed him to their cities, and “great multitudes followed him whithersoever he went.” And after the lapse of so many centuries, it is while passing through a region of associations and memories so hallowed that the traveler of to-day realizes the presence of the Lord more than in other parts of the Holy Land.
At the death of Herod the Great his kingdom was divided into three parts, over which his sons reigned. With his accustomed precision and accuracy, St. Luke not only recognizes this historic fact, but defines the territory of each division.[545] To Archelaus was assigned Idumea, Judea, and Samaria, which embraced all that portion of Palestine from the Jordan to the Mediterranean, and from Beersheba to the northern border of Esdraelon. Ancient Idumea included that district of country lying south of Judea, and extending from the southern end of the Dead Sea to the Gulf of Akabah; but the Idumea of the Herodian era embraced only the northern section of the Desert of Tîh, together with several towns of Southern Palestine, with Hebron as the capital city. Though subdued by the warlike Maccabees, and by them subjected to the rule of Jewish prefects, the Idumæans of this latter period rose to favor under Cæsar, who appointed Antipater procurator of all Judea, and subsequently his son, Herod the Great, became “King of the Jews.”