THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN
The Jordan! How shall I make you see it as it winds its way through this
great gash in the thirsty face of old Mother Earth?
All day long I have been travelling upon its banks in the lower part of
its course. I have visited the ford where Joshua crossed with his army
of Jews when he took possession of Canaan; have stood on the spot where
it is said that Jesus was baptized of John, and have gone over the place
where the waters were parted by the cloak of Elijah. Here at Jericho I am
within a short gallop of the Dead Sea, into which the Jordan flows, and
sitting on the steps of my hotel I can see Mount Nebo, where Moses stood
when he viewed the Promised Land, which he was not to enter. In former
travels I have seen the Jordan, near the Sea of Galilee, and have been
not far from its source in the Lebanon Mountains.
The Jordan Valley is the cellar of the world. It is a great trench, which
begins a thousand or more feet above the sea in the Lebanon Mountains,
and within a distance of one hundred and sixty miles, as the crow flies,
cuts its way down to thirteen hundred feet below sea level, where it ends
in the Dead Sea. The bottom of that sea is a half mile below the surface
of the Mediterranean, and in Jericho, where I am writing, we are almost
four thousand feet below the highest point in Jerusalem. There is no
other part of the earth uncovered by water where for an equal distance
the land is sunken even two hundred feet below the level of the ocean.
This is the strangest trough of the world. Though often associated with
the idea of going to heaven, the Valley of the Jordan is emblematic of
hell. Most of it is as parched as the dry sands of the Sahara, and just
now its heat is as torrid as Tophet. The plain over which I rode to-day
on my way to the river was covered with thorn bushes. The only green I
saw after leaving the irrigated farms about Jericho was that bordering
the gully through which the Jordan runs. For the rest, the alkaline earth
cut up by the floods into castles and mounds, makes bare gullies and
hills of all sizes and shapes.
The mean temperature of Jerusalem, only fourteen miles away, is 64°
Fahrenheit. It is temperate throughout the year and snow falls there in
the winter. The heat here is as great as that of the centre of Nubia. For
six months in the year the mean temperature in the Jordan Valley averages
100° Fahrenheit.
But this is not the character of the whole course of the Jordan. Let me
give you a bird’s-eye view of the river, or, better, let us suppose we
have taken an aeroplane and are going from its source in the Lebanon
Mountains to where it loses itself in the great sea of salt below here.
It rises on the foot of Mount Hermon, whose peak is covered with snow the
greater part of the year. It has two or three different sources. One is
near Dan, and higher up is another at Banias, near the spot where Christ
said: “Thou art Peter, and upon this rock will I build my Church, and the
gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”
It is at Banias that the Jordan has its chief source. It comes from a
cave in the limestone rock which is now choked up with stones, but out of
which the water flows in a great volume, cold, sweet, and pure. There are
trees about the cave and the stream runs through a beautiful park down to
Lake Huleh, which is only seven feet above the sea. The spring of Banias
has always been noted for its sweetness and purity. It is said the waters
and cave were formerly dedicated to the god Pan, and that from him came
the name Banias, or Panias. Greek tablets have been found near by, and
ruined temples and columns show that the place was once the site of a
considerable city. It has now only a mud village of about fifty huts.
Flying down to Lake Huleh, we see a marshy catch basin into which run
other streams and from which the Jordan flows out. There is little
activity about the lake. Near it live a few Bedouins whose only business
seems to be making mats of the papyrus reeds growing on the shores. These
are the waters of Merom beside which Joshua and his men of war battled
with the Canaanites for the Promised Land.
A little farther down is the main crossing to Damascus. The place is
known as the Bridge of Jacob’s Daughters, and the stream is here on the
level of the sea. It drops six hundred and eighty feet in the next nine
miles, falling in a series of twenty-seven cascades.
The remainder of the Jordan’s course runs between the seas of life and
death. I refer to the Sea of Galilee at the north and the Dead Sea at
the south. The first, though somewhat brackish, is full of fish and
surrounded by verdure. The other is saltier than any other water on
earth, and so bitter and poisonous that no living thing can exist within
it. The distance between these two seas in a straight line north and
south is about sixty-five miles, and the slope from one to the other
is almost twelve feet to the mile, or over six hundred and sixty feet.
Connecting them is this great trough of the Jordan, from one to sixteen
miles wide. Through it flows the sacred river, twisting about like a
corkscrew, and making so many turnings that it flows more than two
hundred miles in an airline distance of only sixty miles. It runs with
great force and there are numerous falls where electric plants might be
put in. The land on each side might be turned into rich farms if it could
only have water, and it may be that the good fairy of electricity will
some time bring the dead earth to life.
There are some farms in the upper part of the course of the Jordan and
there is a sugar plantation half way between Galilee and the Dead Sea,
where soldiers work as labourers. There are small fields of grain,
including millet, wheat, and barley here and there, and I am told that
rice and indigo can be grown.
Down near the Dead Sea there is considerable cultivation on the Jericho
plain. The land is irrigated by a stream from the mountains of Judea
and by the spring of Elisha. It is cut up into small patches covered
with orange groves, almond orchards, and vineyards. Much of the fruit
goes up to Jerusalem. There are also fields of eggplants, tomatoes, and
melons, and dates could undoubtedly be grown. All the way from here to
old Jericho, a distance of about three miles, are orchards, vineyards,
and gardens. They are fenced with thorn bushes, the thorns on which are
great hooks turning inward. They are said to be the same thorns as those
of which the crown of our Saviour was made.
[Illustration: A thick mist always hangs over the weird waters of the
Dead Sea, while intense heat and insect pests make its shores almost
intolerable]
[Illustration: The current is swift in this place and we hire a fisherman
to take us across the Jordan. Under Turkish rule the river was considered
the personal property of the Sultan, who allowed no pleasure craft upon
it]
[Illustration: Bethlehem is a maze of narrow, winding streets, lined with
box-like houses having flat grass-grown roofs and overhanging windows.
Here Rachel died and was buried; here dwelt Ruth and Boaz, and here were
born David and the Saviour]
The Jordan is not navigable. Along its whole course it has no wharves, no
boats, and no cities or villages of any account. It has numerous fords
but no bridges of any size. The wooden bridge about six miles above the
Dead Sea is a toll bridge, with fords above and below it. The people use
it only when the river is high. At other times the caravans save the toll
by passing through the fords.
On its course from Galilee to the Dead Sea the river narrows and widens.
Now it is a swift, black, sullen current flowing between ugly mud banks
covered with refuse, now it comes close to the mountains which border the
valley on either side, and down here at the Dead Sea it reaches a width
of five hundred feet, being so shallow that you could almost wade across
it.
The water gathers the denudations of the mountains. It changes in colour
from season to season, and in the spring spreads out in floods over the
valley. It is said that the parting of the water in order that Joshua and
the Israelites might pass over was when the river was at its highest.
At this point in its course it is not a sweet water. It has gathered the
salts from this arid country and is so full of organic matter that those
who carry it home for baptisms have to boil and filter it to get rid of
its disagreeable smell. I have several canteens which I filled myself
from the stream, or rather with the water which I brought in wine bottles
from the Jordan and had boiled and filtered before it was put into the
cans. If I ever have a grandchild it shall be baptized with this water.
I bought the canteens at the Jordan Hotel here at Jericho where they are
kept on hand to be sold to the tourists and pilgrims. A vast number of
them are carried away every year.
Let us go from Jericho to the land where the Moabites live on the other
side of the river. It is only a few miles away, and we can drive there
in a carriage. As we start, the great white blazing sun is climbing the
blue above Mount Nebo, and the faint streak of the Dead Sea, with the
haze that hangs always over it, can be seen down the valley. Our soldier
gallops in front to scare off the Bedouins and we wind our way lazily in
and out through the wheat fields. Leaving these we enter a desert on the
edge of which stands Gilgal, where the Israelites first encamped after
crossing the Jordan, and then go on through thorny scrub among gullies
and hills until we approach the long fringes of thicket which border the
river. There is more vegetation as we near this, and we go through the
bushes until we come to a creek no wider than a city street. It looks
like some of the small streams of our central states. I know many such
in Indiana, Illinois, and Ohio, and there is one of just about the same
size which goes by the name of Goose Creek in Loudoun County, Virginia.
The Rhine and the Hudson, the Potomac, or even the Shenandoah, could
swallow the Jordan without bulging, and just now it is so small that in
the United States it would not be called a river at all.
Nevertheless, the current is swift at this place and we hire a fisherman
to take us across. He charges twenty-five cents for the boat, and for
this rows us up and down stream for an hour. He stands up as he rows and
leans on the oars. We go to the other side of the Jordan and climb out
through the willows. How quiet it is! The only sounds are the ripple of
the stream as it washes the banks and the songs of sweet-voiced birds
in the trees at our left. As we return we lean over and bathe our hands
in the Jordan. The water is cold. When taken up in a bottle it looks
like weak milk. We taste it. It is acrid and salty and we spit it out in
disgust.
Here Christ is said to have been baptized of John. At this place, which
is about three miles from the Dead Sea, the water at ordinary times
is four or five feet deep. Most of the pilgrims come here, and it is
the scene of tens of thousands of baptisms a year. The chief time of
baptizing is Easter, when the Russians come by the thousands and when
other members of the Greek Church unite with them in a great caravan
which journeys here and camps.
Leaving the Jordan we make our way down the valley to the Dead Sea. The
road goes through the thorn bushes and twists about through the barren
hills. The land is salty and alkaline and all nature is dead. How hot the
sun is, and how glaring! Our eyes smart, and horrid flies crawl with legs
of glue over our faces. We try to brush them off but they alight and bite
us again.
Now we are on the shore of the sea, which is covered with pebbles and
driftwood. It looks more like a lake than a sea, and is just about the
size of Lake Geneva in Switzerland. It is only fifty miles long and ten
miles in width and we can see from one side of it to the other.
The Dead Sea lies between stony mountains. On the east are the desert
hills of Moab, where Ruth was born and Moses is buried, and on the west
lie those of Judea where the children of Israel came after Moses had
pointed out to them the Promised Land. There are openings at the north
and south, and away at the southwest are works for evaporating the water
to make salt.
The Dead Sea has no outlet. The water evaporates so fast that it is
usually misty here. It is estimated that over six million tons of water
flow into it daily. Nevertheless, its level changes only a little
throughout the year, and that at the times of the flood.
Now dip up some of the water in your hand and taste it. It burns your
tongue and your lips. It is as bitter as gall. If you drank a glass of it
you would probably die. It is the saltiest water on earth. If you will
take a gallon and boil it down, you will find that one fourth of the
contents is solid. It is six times as salty as the water of the ocean,
and a cubic mile of it would contain nine hundred million tons of mineral
matter. The sum is so staggering that you cannot comprehend it, but at
ninety tons to the car it would take ten million cars to carry that much,
and if your cars were a little under forty feet long the train required
for the load would reach eighty miles. There is asphalt or pitch in the
bottom of the lake and the water has other minerals in addition to salt.
Indeed, the salt proper left after boiling comprises only about 7 per
cent. of the whole.
If you would further test the water, take an egg and drop it into the
sea. It will float, leaving one third of the egg above the surface. A
fresh egg will sink in fresh water, and we break our egg to be sure it is
fresh.
Another test. Let us strip off our clothing and go in for a swim. You do
not know how to swim? That makes no difference in this salty sea. The
water is so heavy you could not sink if you tried. You can lie on your
back and float all day long. You can stand upright and tread, but it is
almost impossible to maintain such a position. Your feet have a tendency
to fly to the surface, and you bob up and down like “the monkey on the
stick.” Now try to swim. Your feet fly out of the water and you cannot
make any headway. Now let us wade out and let the sun dry our skins.
We feel as if we had been painted with mucilage. We are gummy and oily
and incrusted with salt. We were scratched as we came through the thorn
bushes and the salt got into the wounds and they are burning like fire.
We shall not be happy until we can get some fresh water to wash off the
salt.
An interesting thing about the Dead Sea is the fact that on its shores
were the sites of the ancient Sodom and Gomorrah, the two towns which
became so wicked that the Lord rained fire and brimstone upon them. There
are said to be sulphur springs in the country about, and it may have been
a volcano which caused the destruction.
It was right here on the plain of the Jordan that the nephew of Abraham
and the cousin of Ishmael and Isaac, the good man Lot, had his estate.
It was in Sodom that he lived, one of the richest of its citizens, and
the only just man in the city. From there he went out with Mrs. Lot and
the two girls. And it is said to be at the southwest end of the lake, not
far away, that Madame Lot turned and looked back and, as we may suppose,
longed for the fleshpots. And lo! she became a pillar of salt. There are
still deposits of rock-salt at that end of the lake, and the guides now
show the remains of a pillar which they say was once Mrs. Lot, but which
has been licked by the camels until it has almost disappeared.