Now on this low bank, not far from us, stands the preacher in the midst of a great concourse of people. Every ear is all attention, every eye is on the preacher. See! his bosom heaves, his face glows, his eyes sparkle, his words burn. His sentences strike, swift and glittering, like lightning flashes midst the roll of judgment-day thunders. Terrors of the day of wrath roll over his hearers as the foremost thought; sounds of hope break in, like soft music, to keep the contrite from despair. The moral world seems to shake. The people realize as never before their sin, their guilt, their need of a Savior. In their hearts they want, they yearn for, the promised Messiah.
Now, lifting his eyes above the motley multitude, John beholds a strange personage coming towards him. Rough and rugged, bold and heroic, John is not a man to shrink from his fellows. He is no reed to be shaken by the wind. But, see! he trembles as the stranger approaches. Spiritual greatness wears a kingly crown which compels instant reverence. John, a moment ago as bold as a lion, is now as meek as a lamb. Shrinking from the new-comer he says, “I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me?” Jesus, answering, said unto him, “Suffer it to be so now, for thus it becometh us to fulfill all righteousness.”
Then leading Jesus down into the river he baptizes Him; and immediately the heavens are opened, the Spirit of God, like a dove, descends and lights upon Him. There is the Son with the Spirit resting upon His head, and, lo! a voice from heaven, saying, “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.” The vast multitude who witness this strange sight are deeply moved. They are profoundly impressed. What means this strange baptism, this descent of the Spirit, this voice of God? What means it all? Who is this new-comer? John answers by pointing to Jesus and saying, “Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.” As if to say, “This is He of whom Moses and the prophets did write—of whom I have told you, and before whom every earthly monarch shall bow.” This day have the people witnessed one of the most wonderful events in the history of the world—a direct manifestation of the Triune God. There has this day begun an agitation and stir among the people that shall end in a tragedy on Calvary.
These scenes have made the Jordan a sacred river. From the days of Constantine, to bathe or to be baptized in this river has been regarded a great privilege. We are told that “in the sixth century, marble steps led down into the water on both sides, at the spot where it is believed our Lord was baptized, while a wooden cross rose in the middle of the stream.” Nor has reverence for this river diminished. On the contrary, it seems to have increased. Each year, during the week preceding Easter Sunday, thousands and thousands of people, from all parts of the world, assemble in Jerusalem and pitch their tents on the surrounding hills. They continue to come until the hills round about Jerusalem look like one far-reaching city of many-colored tents.
Easter Sunday, with its strange ceremonies and joyous songs, is over. Monday morning, bright and early, there is great bustle and confusion in the camp. Every tent is folded. Camels, mules, and donkeys are packed ready for travel. The people mount—sometimes whole families of five or six on one camel. Some of the number stride the animal, while others are suspended in baskets which are tied together and hang on either side. Leaving Jerusalem, the pilgrims, in one great caravan, under the protection of the Turkish government, start out for the “Sacred River.” The Kedron valley and the side of the Mount of Olives are filled with inhabitants of Jerusalem and the surrounding villages, who have come out to see the annual procession pass. On they go, an escort of Turkish soldiers with a white flag and sweet music leading the way. Then come camels and asses laden with pilgrims of every age and condition, of every clime and country, clad in costumes of every variety of cut and color, while a second group of soldiers, with the green standard of the prophet, closes the long procession.
As the shadows of evening begin to fall, the pilgrims pitch their tents by Elisha’s Fountain in the plain of Jericho. At night the whole plain is dotted with cheerful camp-fires. Gathering here, in groups of two or three hundred, the people engage with great enthusiasm in a weird kind of ceremony which is to prepare them for the next day. At a late hour they fall asleep.
The scene that follows their waking is vividly described by Lieut. Lynch of the U. S. Navy. He says: “At 3 a.m., we were aroused by the intelligence that the pilgrims were coming. Rising in haste, we beheld thousands of torchlights, with a dark mass beneath, moving rapidly over the hills. Striking our tents with precipation, we hurriedly removed them and all our effects a short distance to the left. We had scarce finished, when they were upon us:—men, women, and children, mounted on camels, horses, mules, and donkeys, rushed impetuously by toward the bank. They presented the appearance of fugitives from a routed army.
“Our Bedawin friends here stood us in good stead;—sticking their tufted spears before our tents, they mounted their steeds and formed a military cordon around us. But for them we should have been run down, and most of our effects trampled upon, scattered and lost. In all the wild haste of a disorderly rout, Copts and Russians, Poles, Armenians, Greeks and Syrians, from all parts of Asia, from Europe, from Africa, and from far-distant America, on they came; men, women and children, of every age and hue, and in every variety of costume; talking, screaming, shouting, in almost every known language under the sun.
“Mounted as variously as those who had preceded them, many of the women and children were suspended in baskets or confined in cages; and, with their eyes strained toward the river, heedless of all intervening obstacles, they hurried eagerly forward, and dismounting in haste and disrobing with precipitation, rushed down the bank and threw themselves into the stream. Each one plunged himself, or was dipped by another, three times, below the surface, in honor of the Trinity; and then filled a bottle, or some other utensil, from the river. The bathing-dress of many of the pilgrims was a white gown with a black cross upon it.
“In an hour they began to disappear; and in less time than three hours the trodden surface of the lately crowded bank reflected no human shadow. The pageant disappeared as rapidly as it had approached, and left to us once more the silence and the solitude of the wilderness. It was like a dream. An immense crowd of human beings, said to be 8,000, but I thought not so many, had passed and re-passed before our tents, and left not a vestige behind them.”