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 as far
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.”
To Herod Antipas was allotted all Galilee, together with the district
of Perea, which includes that part of Palestine east of the Jordan to
Arabia, and south of Pella to Machaerus, and which in the New Testament
is called the “coasts of Judea beyond Jordan.”[546]
To Herod Philip were given Iturea and Trachonitis. The former
extends from the northern border of Jaulân[547] to the banks of the
Jennâny, and from the eastern base of Hermon to the great caravan road
to Mecca; and the latter, adjoining Iturea on the east, includes the
lesser provinces of Batanea,[548] Gaulonitis,[549] and Auranitis, or
the modern Hauran.
St. Luke also mentions the province of Abilene, which is north of
Iturea, and extends within 12 miles of Damascus. “It originally
included Heliopolis and Iturea, with the mountain region lying
between,”[550] and had Chalcis as the capital city, the ruins of which
remain. According to Strabo, Ptolemy, the son of Menneaus, was ruler
of the province, who, after the annexation of Syria by the Romans,
continued to hold his possessions till succeeded to the throne by his
son Lysanias. Transferring the seat of his government to Abila, on
the banks of the ancient Abana, he reigned till murdered through the
artifices of Cleopatra, to whom the kingdom was given by Mark Antony.
Subsequently passing into the hands of the tyrant Zenodorus, the
province ultimately reverted to a descendant of Lysanias, bearing the
same name, and who was “tetrarch of Abilene.”[551]
The term Galilee is as old as Joshua.[552] Signifying a “circle” or
“circuit,” it was originally applied to the region about Kadesh, “a
city of refuge.”[553] In the reign of Solomon it designated the area
containing the twenty cities he gave to Hiram of Tyre, which were
afterward known as the “coasts of Tyre and Sidon,” and which, in the
lapse of time, having become colonized by strangers, received the
name of “Galilee of the Gentiles,” or of the “nations.”[554] Under
the jurisdiction of the Romans, Galilee was the designation of all
that magnificent region embracing the ancient tribeships of Issachar,
Zebulun, Asher, and Naphtali, which extended from the Plain of
Esdraelon to Mount Hermon, and from the Jordan to the Mediterranean.
According to Josephus, this vast section of Palestine was divided into
two parts, “called the Upper Galilee and the Lower.”[555] The latter
was bounded on the south by a line drawn from Carmel to Scythopolis,
and on the north by a line extending from the Bay of ’Akka to Tiberias,
and the former extended from this latter line on the south to Hermon on
the north, and from this point westward to the sea.
Whether considered geographically or historically, the Sea of
Tiberias is the most remarkable feature in the physical geography
of Galilee. Either from a town upon its ancient shore or from its
harp-like shape, it was early called “the Sea of Chinnereth.”[556] At
later periods it was successively called the “Sea of Tiberias,”[557]
from the imperial city of that name standing on its western coast; the
“Sea of Galilee,”[558] because it belonged to the province of Galilee;
and, finally, the “Lake of Gennesaret,” corrupted from Cinnereth,
the title of a noble plain on its northwestern shore.[559] With a
depression of 650 feet below the level of the Mediterranean, it is 13
miles long, six wide, and 165 feet deep. Lying in a volcanic basin, its
form is oval and its sides are shelving. Unlike the lofty and rugged
mountains which encompass the Scotch and Italian lakes, the surrounding
hills are neither high nor uniform. On the eastern coast they are steep
and barren, and rise to the height of 2000 feet; on the west they are
not so lofty, but smooth, more sloping, and are dotted with trees and
tufts of grass, and are furrowed by gentle ravines. At either end the
western hills retire, permitting the Jordan to enter the sea on the
north and to find an exit on the south. The shores are alternately
smooth and rocky. The smoother portions are strewn with beautiful
shells, while at intervals the everlasting hills plant their dark
feet upon the whitened beach. Through an open cliff and between grassy
slopes numberless streamlets pour their crystal waters into the sea,
and on their green banks gorgeous oleanders bloom and tropical flowers
fill the air with their perfume. The water is clear, cool, and sweet,
and abounds with fish, as in the days of Bethsaida’s fishermen. Though
it is almost uniformly calm, there are times when the winds rush
down the mountain gorges and up the Jordan valley, lashing the placid
waters into foam, and causing the waves to roll high and furiously. Its
beauty is most apparent in the freshness of the morning, or amid the
golden tints and purple shadows of evening; or in the sweet repose
of a summer’s moonlight night, when the serene skies, with moon and
stars, are mirrored on its quiet bosom; or during the solemn grandeur
of a thunderstorm, when the heavens scowl, the wild winds rage, the
lightning darts through the gloom in bars of fire or in sheets of light,
and along the trembling mountains the thunder rolls responsive to the
waves that madly break upon the rock-bound shore.
Illustration: TIBERIAS AND THE SEA OF GALILEE.
Other lakes are more exquisitely beautiful; others present to the
eye loftier forms of grandeur; but as it is impossible for the mind
to dissociate the historical from a scene like this, so the presence
of that Divine One has imparted to the “Sea of Galilee” an unparalleled
beauty, and his divine works have rendered it the most sacred of
earthly lakes. On its northwestern shore stood the city of his adoption;
from the deck of one of its fishing-boats he taught the multitude; over
its calm waters he often sailed on a voyage of mercy, or to a “desert
place” for prayer; on its troubled bosom, as on a pavement of adamant,
he walked in the “fourth watch of the night;” twice he rose in majesty,
“rebuked the winds,” and said to the waves, “Peace, be still;” and on
its shores he met his disciples after his passion and resurrection.
Four miles from the southern end of the lake, and occupying a
plain two miles long and less than half a mile wide, stands the once
imperial city of Tiberias. Though only mentioned by the sacred writers
in connection with the sea, it fills no inconsiderable portion of
the political history of Galilee. Whether built upon the site of the
ancient city of Chinnereth or not, it evidently covers, in part, the
site of some old town, as sepulchres of great antiquity are on the
sloping plain. Coming in possession of Galilee, Herod Antipas founded
the new city, made it the capital of his kingdom, and named it after
his friend and patron, the Emperor Tiberius. Inviting citizens from
all parts to take up their residence within its walls, he granted them
extraordinary privileges, and spared neither art nor treasure to render
it worthy of his throne and palace. Here, in the day of his pride and
luxury, he so far forgot the respect due the marriage covenant and the
obligations of consanguinity as to marry Herodias, his brother Philip’s
wife. For an offense so grave and notorious the faithful and courageous
John the Baptist reproved the king, who, under the pretense of fearing
lest John might take advantage of his own popularity and instigate
a rebellion, ordered his arrest, and imprisoned him in the tower of
Machaerus. It was here in his royal palace, while holding a feast in
honor of his birthday, that Salome, the daughter of his incestuous
wife, danced before him, and pleased him to such a degree that he swore
to give her whatever she should ask, “to the half of his kingdom.”
Influenced by her infamous mother, Salome asked for “John’s head in
a charger.” Bound by his promise, the king reluctantly yielded, and
dispatching one of his guards, the noblest and purest of prophets fell
a victim to the revenge of a woman smarting under rebuke, and to the
cowardice of a prince whose mortified pride was only excelled by the
fears that tormented the dreams of his nights and the vision of his
days. Whether intentionally or otherwise, Josephus has given us the
pretense of John’s death rather than the true cause, in asserting that
Antipas feared lest he might cause a revolt; but, as if half conscious
of the injustice he had done the character of so eminent a prophet,
the Jewish historian tells us that the Jews attributed the subsequent
misfortunes of Herod to the death of John the Baptist. Retributive
justice was speedily visited upon the son of Herod the Great. Having
divorced his first wife, who was the daughter of a celebrated Arabian
prince, that he might marry Herodias, Aretas, the father of the
divorced wife, resolved to avenge the affront offered to his daughter,
and declared war against Herod, and in a single battle vanquished his
ungrateful son-in-law, and literally destroyed his army.
Jealous of the prosperity of her brother Agrippa, who from a private
citizen had become king of Judea, Herodias persuaded Antipas to visit
Rome and request the same dignity from the Emperor Caius. Learning of
the conspiracy, Agrippa anticipated the arrival of his uncle, and
accused Antipas of conspiracy against Tiberius, and asserted that he
was then carrying on a correspondence with Artabanus, king of Parthia,
against the Romans. Convinced of the justness of the accusation, the
emperor banished him to Lyons, and afterward to Spain, where he and his
wife Herodias died in exile.[560]
Tiberias subsequently bore a conspicuous part in the wars which
terminated in the destruction of Jerusalem, and especially during
the command of Josephus in Galilee, who fortified the city; but it
afterward capitulated to the victorious Vespasian. By this act of
voluntary submission Tiberias escaped destruction, and remained
undisturbed during those commotions ending in the overthrow of the
Jewish commonwealth. Regarding it, with Hebron, Jerusalem, and Safed,
as one of their four holiest cities, it became the chief city of the
Jews after the destruction of their renowned capital; and, subsequently
to their expulsion from Judea, they removed the Sanhedrim first to
Jamnia, on the Plain of Philistia, then to Sefforis, and finally,
in the middle of the second century, to Tiberias, which for three
centuries continued the metropolis of the race. Here, amid those
centuries of comparative repose, the most eminent of rabbins of the
nation taught in the synagogues, and founded a school for the study
of their law and language. As the head of this academy, Rabbi Judah
collected and committed to writing the great mass of Jewish traditional
law now known as the Mishnah, which was completed about the year
200 A.D. A century later, Rabbi Jochanan here compiled the Gemara
as a supplement and commentary to the former work, and which is now
usually called the Jerusalem Talmud. And from the same school, at a
later period, emanated that critical work called the Masorah, at once
designed to preserve the purity of the Hebrew text of the Old Testament
and of the language in which it was written.[561]
Sharing the fortunes of other Syrian cities, Tiberias is now an Arab
town. Occupying a plain on the shore, formed by the mountains receding,
it is encompassed by a wall 20 feet high, 100 rods long, and 40 wide.
Describing an irregular parallelogram, the wall is supported by 10
round towers on the west, five on the north, eight on the south, and
three on the east. Only one half of the space within the inclosure is
occupied by the present population. Most of the buildings are small
and filthy, and the streets are neither clean nor straight. The pasha’s
house and a Mohammedan mosque are the only edifices worthy of attention.
The Moslems, who are in the ascendant, number about 1200. The Jews,
who are estimated at 800, have a distinct quarter, which is in the
centre of the town. Like those in Jerusalem, they are divided into two
sects――the Sephardim, who are chiefly from Northern Africa and Spain,
and the Askenazim, who are fugitives from Russia. As a class they are
intelligent, well dressed, and of more comely appearance than those
found in other portions of Palestine. The young men are athletic and
manly in their bearing, and many of the younger Jewesses are more than
ordinarily beautiful. As we entered the gates of the city at an early
hour on a charming Sabbath morning, crowds of white-veiled Jewesses
and of venerable Jews, with long gray beards, were slowly winding
their way up the mountains that rise steeply behind the city, to offer
their prayers at the sepulchres of Rabbis Jochanan, Akabi, Maimonides,
and others of their ancestors. Still looking for the Messiah, they
entertain a prevalent tradition that he will rise from the sea, land
first in the city of Tiberias, and thence proceed to establish his
throne on the summit of Safed, a lofty and imposing mountain situated
15 miles to the northwest. Christianity in Tiberias is represented by
a solitary Latin monk. On the shore, to the north of the Jews’ Quarter,
is a small convent, traditionally marking the spot where the Savior
met the disciples after his resurrection, and where was landed the
miraculous draught of fishes.[562] But, judging from the silence of all
the evangelists, it is probable our Lord never visited this renowned
city. The population was composed of strangers and slaves, unto whom
he was not sent, and the city was built in part upon a cemetery,
which, according to a Jewish law, rendered whoever entered therein
ceremonially unclean; therefore the chief object of his mission and the
law of Moses justified him in not entering its gates. It is, however,
as remarkable as it is inexplicable that Christ should have spent so
much of his public life in the vicinity of this lake, where he was
universally known, and never have been seen by Herod Antipas till they
met in Jerusalem. St. Luke informs us that “Herod the tetrarch heard
of all that was done by him, and he was perplexed, because that it was
said of some that John was risen from the dead, and of some that Elias
had appeared, and of others that one of the old prophets was risen
again. And Herod said, John have I beheaded; but who is this, of whom I
hear such things? And he desired to see him.”[563] Our Lord having been
reared in Nazareth, “he belonged unto Herod’s jurisdiction;” and having
resided at Capernaum, which is less than eight miles to the north from
Tiberias, he was a “political subject” in the tetrarchate of Antipas.
Why did not Herod send for him? But, knowing the unscrupulous character
of the tetrarch and his wife, together with the reasons assigned above,
the Savior wisely avoided his presence; not from fear, for the pure
and exalted nature of the Redeemer never knew such a base emotion, but
rather to teach his messengers to yield to the storm rather than expose
themselves to destruction, when, from known circumstances, the case was
evidently hopeless. But the king and the Savior met at last. The former
was a guest, and the latter a prisoner in Jerusalem. Finding no fault
in Jesus, but willing to subject him to a more searching trial, Pilate
“sent him to Herod.” “And when he saw Jesus he was exceeding glad, for
he was desirous to see him of a long season, because he had heard many
things of him, and he had hoped to have seen some miracle done by him.”
Too wise and holy to display his power to gratify the curiosity of an
unprincipled king, our Lord neither performed a miracle nor answered
the senseless questions propounded to him by a vain and trifling judge.
Offended at his silence and majestic bearing, “Herod and his men of war
set him at naught, and mocked him, and arrayed him in a gorgeous robe,
and sent him again to Pilate; and the same day Pilate and Herod were
made friends.”[564]
A mile to the south from Tiberias, and situated on the shore, are
the “Warm Baths of Emmaus,” consisting of four springs. The water has
a temperature of 144° Fahrenheit. It emits a sulphurous smell, and
is exceedingly salt and bitter to the taste. It is considered by the
natives efficacious in rheumatic complaints and in cases of debility,
and the baths are visited by invalids from all parts of the country.
Over one of the springs is a bath-house, and near the shore is another,
both of which are rapidly going to decay. As we passed, persons of all
ages and of both sexes were applying the medicinal waters, and some
were bathing in water at over 140° Fahrenheit.
Three miles to the south of these thermal springs is the site of
ancient Tarichea. Here, on a narrow peninsula formed by the River
Jordan as it leaves the lake, are venerable ruins, around which are
the few huts of the modern town of Kerak. Being a town of considerable
importance in the Jewish wars, Tarichea was fortified by Josephus,
but stormed and taken, with great slaughter, by Titus. Having the only
large and safe harbor on the whole lake, the Jewish chieftain made it
his great naval station. With a foresight worthy of better fortunes,
Josephus here collected 230 ships, in which to escape if beaten on
land, or in which to engage the Romans in naval combat. Yielding to the
powerful arms of Titus, Tarichea fell, and the inhabitants took refuge
in their ships, and anchored in the middle of the lake. Resolved on
the utter destruction of the Jewish army, Vespasian, who was present,
immediately ordered the construction of a sufficient number of vessels
to attack the enemy, and, having completed his navy, he launched his
ships and engaged the foe. The engagement was long and sanguinary.
The sea was turned into blood, and on its discolored waters floated
the bodies of the dead. Not a Jewish vessel escaped; and for many days
succeeding the fight the shores were strewn with shipwrecks, and with
the swollen forms of the slain.[565] Thus ended the first and last
sea-fight between the Jews and Romans. Like their mighty empires, their
navies are also destroyed, and instead of that vast fleet which floated
on its bosom, there is but one boat now upon the Sea of Galilee; and,
excepting a long causeway resting on arches, through which the water
flows into the Jordan when the lake is high, there is nothing entire
remaining to mark the site of Tarichea and perpetuate its naval glory.
A mile to the southeast from Jericho is the mouth of the Jordan, which
is ninety feet wide, with high rounded banks. Less than a mile to the
south is the old bridge of Semakh, which once spanned the sacred river,
but is now a ruin. Near it is the modern ford, the present highway
between the east and west. Through shrubberies of hawthorns, tamarisks,
and oleanders, the path runs to the small village from which the bridge
derives its name. Six miles to the south is the Jarmuk of the Hebrews
and the Hieromax of the Greeks, called by the Arabs Mandhûr: it drains
the whole plain of the Haurân and Jaulân, with a large section of the
mountain range eastward. Flowing through a wild ravine, the sides of
which are rugged cliffs of basalt 100 feet high, it enters the Jordan
four miles below the lake, and at the point of junction is more than
130 feet wide. During the Jewish commonwealth it was the boundary
between Bashan and Gilead, and during the dominion of the Romans it
defined the limits of the provinces of Perea and Gaulonitis. In the
gloomy valley through which it flows, bearing the Arabic name of
Sheri’at el-Mandhûr, are the famous “Baths of Amatha.” Consisting of
eight warm springs, they were esteemed by the Romans as second only to
those of the Italian Baiæ. Around them are clumps of dwarf palms and
the remains of arched buildings. The largest of the eight bubbles up
into a basin 40 feet in circumference, and five deep, which is inclosed
by dilapidated walls. The boiling water deposits on the stones a yellow
sulphurous crust, regarded by the natives a sovereign remedy in certain
disorders to which their camels are subject.
Three miles to the south from the banks of the Jarmuk is the
celebrated city of Gadara. With an authentic history not older than the
third century B.C., it was captured in the year 218 B.C. by Antiochus
the Great. Regaining possession of it twenty years later, the Jews
held it till destroyed during their civil wars. To gratify one of his
freedmen, who was a Gadarene, it was rebuilt by order of Pompey, and
during the proconsulate of Gabinius it was the capital of one of the
five districts into which he had divided Judea. Considered one of the
most important cities east of the Jordan, it was captured by Vespasian
in the first outbreak of the war with the Jews: all of its inhabitants
were massacred, and the town itself was reduced to ashes.
Illustration: RUINS AND TOMBS OF GADARA.
The ruins of a city more significantly reflect its grandeur than the
records of the historian or the descriptions of the traveler. Gadara
is in ruins. Occupying a projecting spur at the northwestern extremity
of the mountains of Gilead, it is bounded on the north by the Jarmuk,
on the south by the valley of El-Arab, and on the west by the Jordan.
On the crest of the ridge, covering a space two miles in circumference,
are the remains of the fallen city. On the northern side of the
hill there is a theatre, the seats of which remain entire. Near
it originally stood one of the great gates of the city, from which
commenced a noble avenue extending through the town, and flanked
on either side by a splendid colonnade. On the western side of the
ridge there is another theatre, the walls, seats, and vaulted chambers
of which are in good condition. Between these two theatres lay the
principal part of the city, on an even piece of ground. But the
desolation of Gadara is complete. Neither dwelling, palace, nor column
remains standing, and the only work of art, besides the theatres,
which has come down to our own age well preserved, is the pavement
of the main street, which is as perfect as when laid down, and bears
distinctly the traces of the chariot wheels which once proudly rolled
along this magnificent thoroughfare.
Whether regarded as works of art or as associated with the history of
the Gospel, the tombs of Gadara are replete with interest. Excavated
in the limestone rock on the east and northeast sides of the hill,
they consist of chambers, some of which are more than 20 feet square.
Consisting of massive stone slabs, ornamented with panels, many of the
doors remain in their places, and swing upon their hinges with ease,
notwithstanding their great weight. Along the hill-side are ancient
sarcophagi, ornamented with sculptured garlands and wreaths, gods
and genii. As in the days of our Lord, these tombs are inhabited, and
though not by maniacs, yet by Troglodytes, who at times are no less
dangerous to the traveler. When it is remembered that Gadara is nine
miles from the extreme southeastern shore of the Sea of Tiberias, its
claim of having been the scene of the Savior’s miracle in curing the
maniacs who “dwelt in the tombs” may be called in question. The miracle
is recorded by three of the evangelists. They all agree as to where
the Savior landed, viz., “to the other side;” “over unto the other
side of the sea,” “which is over against Galilee;” that, on landing,
he was immediately met by the demoniacs; and that the place was in the
_country_ or region of a certain people; but Matthew calls this people
Gergesenes, while Mark and Luke call them Gadarenes. The reconciliation,
however, is not difficult. Either Gergesa was located near the lake
shore, and under the jurisdiction of the larger city, Gadara, and
therefore could be properly described as in the “country of the
Gadarenes,” or, as is more probable, St. Matthew, being a resident of
this region, wrote the name correctly, and wrote it primarily to those
who were familiar with all the smaller places of the country, while
St. Mark and St. Luke, who were strangers here, and who wrote for the
benefit of distant Greek and Roman readers, who were only familiar
with the well-known district and city of Gadara, simply point out
the vicinity of the place where the miracle occurred. Some eminent
critics suppose that, as the name of the place given by St. Matthew
is variously pronounced Gergesa, or Gerasa, or Cehersa, the close
resemblance between Gergesa and Gadara led to the substitution of
the latter for the former in transcribing the manuscript.[566] But,
whatever may have been the cause of the discrepancy, topographical
facts are against Gadara, or any of its dependencies, as having been
the scene of the miracle. In addition to the fact that Gadara is nine
miles to the southeast from the sea, there is no mountain at this point
of the shore adapted to the conditions of the miracle. The intervening
space between these two points, even if the last-mentioned difficulty
did not exist, would present an insuperable objection. It would have
been a miracle in itself if 2000 swine had run down the mountain-side
for an hour and a half, then forded the deep Jarmuk, and, having gained
the northern bank, crossed a plain five miles wide before they reached
the nearest margin of the sea. And as the scene of the miracle could
not have been in the immediate neighborhood of Gadara, neither could
it have been north of the Jarmuk, as the “country of the Gadarenes” lay
south of that great river.
Somewhere midway the lake we must look for the scene of this
interesting event. Not two miles to the north from the small village
of Semakh is the site of ancient Hippas, which was an important place
in the days of Josephus, and four miles farther on are the ruins of
the renowned city of Gamala. The ridge on which the city stood is not
unlike a camel’s back, from which geological formation the town derived
its name. So strongly was Gamala built, that the younger Agrippa
besieged it seven months in vain, and it only yielded to the assailants
when assaulted by a more powerful army under Vespasian. Four thousand
perished by the sword, and, rather than surrender themselves captives
to the victor, five thousand other citizens threw themselves from
the walls of their city and were dashed to pieces in the deep ravines
below. Whether this was the city of the Gergesenes it is impossible to
determine with accuracy, but the topography of the shore, from Hippas
to Wady Semakh, is in harmony with all the facts of the miracle. Here,
in the face of the bold cliffs, are many ancient tombs, out of one of
which the demoniacs rushed to meet Jesus the moment the boat touched
the shore, and on the mountain summit, “a good way off from them, an
herd of swine was feeding.” Seized with a sudden panic, the maddened
herd rushed headlong down the steep mountain side, and as there was
neither time nor space to arrest their descent on the narrow shelving
shore between the base of the cliff and the sea, they were borne by the
velocity of their own motion into the waters and perished. Thus, by a
miracle as humane as it was godlike, our Lord condemned the vocation
of the swineherds of Gergesa, and restored to reason and happiness two
unfortunate men.[567]
Ten miles north from Gamala is the mouth of the Upper Jordan. The
path first runs along a rich plateau, separating the shell-strewn beach
from the base of the hills, and then passes over a triangular plain
of surpassing richness. Three miles beyond this rich field the Jordan
enters the Lake of Gennesaret. Southerly winds have driven up an
immense bank of sand before the mouth of the river, causing the water
to flow through a channel some distance from the eastern shore. Being
70 feet wide, the Jordan is here a lazy, turbid stream, flowing between
low alluvial banks. Droves of buffaloes and herds of cattle were
standing in the shallow water, while along the banks were flocks of
sheep and goats.
Two miles from the mouth of the Jordan, and covering a conspicuous
hill, are the remains of Bethsaida Julias. Originally a small village
inhabited by fishermen, it was enlarged and beautified by “Philip,
tetrarch of Iturea and of the region of Trachonitis,”[568] who made
it the imperial city of his kingdom, and called it Julias in honor of
Julia, the daughter of the Emperor Augustus;[569] and here, after he
had reigned 37 years, he died and was interred with great pomp in a
magnificent mausoleum which he had previously prepared for himself.
[570] But this eastern Bethsaida is chiefly interesting to the
Christian traveler as associated with the life of our divine Lord.
Sailing from Capernaum, hither he retired with his disciples “into
a desert place apart.”[571] This “desert place” was probably one of
those uninhabited mountains which overhang the lake on the south, and
which, owing to the scarcity of springs and the nearer approach to
the Bedouin tribes, were not dotted with towns as were the opposite
hills, and which naturally became a refuge from the active life of the
western shores. Attracted by his miracles and charmed by his presence,
“when the people heard thereof they followed him on foot out of the
cities,”[572] and sweeping round the head of the lake, while he himself
sailed across it, they reached the place where he had landed. Having
“healed their sick” and taught them lessons of divine wisdom, the
compassionate Savior finished the labors of the day by feeding that
multitude of over 5000 souls with five loaves and two fishes.[573] The
scene of this extraordinary miracle is the noble plain at the mouth of
the Jordan, which during most of the year is now, as then, covered with
“green grass.”[574] Dismissing the multitude with his blessing, and
“constraining his disciples to get into a ship” and return to Capernaum,
“he went up into a mountain apart to pray.” The imagination dwells
with delight upon this parting scene――the thousands of people scattered
along the beach absorbed in deepest thought, and moving homeward with
lingering step, turning ever and anon to gain another glance at the
blessed Savior; the ship upon the sea, containing the twelve disciples,
returning to Gennesaret; while, slowly moving up the mountain side, the
Master is retiring into solitude for meditation and prayer.
The multitude had reached their homes and were wrapped in slumber; the
Savior had finished his devotions and had descended to the shore, but
the disciples were in the “midst of the sea, tossed with waves, for the
wind was contrary.” “In the fourth watch of the night,” leaving this
beautiful plain, “Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea.” Calming
their fears by that sublime salutation, “Be of good cheer; it is I,
be not afraid,” he allowed the impulsive Peter to “walk on the water,”
which no less evinced the weakness of the apostle’s faith than it
displayed the compassion and power of his Lord.[575]
Having described a part of the western and the whole of the eastern
shore of the Sea of Galilee, it only remains to follow the shore
northward from Tiberias to Capernaum, and thence eastward to Chorazin.
It was seven A.M. when we left the ancient capital of Antipas to visit
the cities upbraided by our Lord. The morning sun had risen upon the
Hills of Galilee in cloudless beauty, the surface of the lake was
rippled by a soft breeze from the south, and far to the north rose the
sublime form of Hermon, its snowy summits reflecting the early light.
Two paths were before us, one mounting the uplands on the left, the
other following the coast. Choosing the latter, our course was to the
northwest. The beach gently declined toward the clear blue waters, and
was strewn with shells, and with white and black pebbles of basalt and
limestone. In half an hour we passed the wild ravine of Arbela, opening
into the interior, and flanked by bold, precipitous cliffs. Travelers
were approaching from the north, mounted on fine Arabian horses, and
seated on chair-back saddles. As we advanced the banks became steep and
rocky, and the mountains above us rose in jutting peaks. In less than
an hour we came to Magdala, the birthplace of Mary Magdalene. Standing
on the shore, it bears the modern name of Mejdel. Eighteen centuries
ago it was a large and thriving town, but at present it contains only
20 huts, on the flat roofs of which children had built booths of reeds.
Around the hovels are old foundations and heaps of rubbish, and near
a half-ruined tower stands a solitary palm. Attracted by our presence,
the women rushed from their wretched homes and gazed at us wildly, and,
judging from their frightful appearance, they might be dispossessed
of as many demons as was their ancient sister. At Mejdel begins the
celebrated Plain of Gennesaret. Formed by the mountains suddenly
receding inland, it is an open and level plain two and a half miles
wide and five long. Having the form of a crescent, it is encompassed on
the west by rugged mountains, and on the east it is washed by the sea.
Equaling in fertility the Plains of Jericho, it is well watered, and
its soil is in part a rich black mould. No less than four streams flow
through it to the lake, and, wherever cultivated, it yields abundantly.
Portions of its shore-line consist of a thick jungle of oleander, in
whose branches birds of variant forms and of brilliant colors carol
the melody of their song. In his description of this plain Josephus is
as correct as he is eloquent. Referring to the various kinds of trees
which grew thereon, “he calls the place the ambition of nature, where
it forces those plants that are naturally enemies to one another to
agree together.”[576] Were it cultivated with intelligence and taste,
it would be the Paradise of Northern Palestine, producing the choicest
fruits luxuriantly, and possessing an eternal spring. Even now,
notwithstanding its neglected state, it is dotted with magnificent
corn-fields and with groves of dwarf palms; and while from our feet
quails sprang up at almost every step, the voice of the turtle-dove was
heard on every side. In the days of our Lord it was the most densely
populated part of the Holy Land, and through its beautiful gardens
he was wont to pass, and in its thriving towns to teach his wondrous
truths. Somewhere on its whitened beach he and his disciples landed
after he had walked upon the water;[577] and from that beach he stepped
into one of the “two boats” standing on its gradual slope, and, praying
Peter “that he would thrust out a little from the land, he sat down
and taught the people out of the ship.”[578] Taking advantage of the
promiscuous audience which hung with rapt attention upon his words, he
here delivered the remarkable parables of the “Sower and the Seed,” of
the “Wheat and Tares,” of the “Mustard-seed,” and of the “Leaven which
a woman took and hid in three measures of meal.”[579] It is highly
probable that the first three of these parables were suggested to his
mind by the fields of vegetation which dotted this plain. As in his day,
so now, the wheat and tares grow together, and all the facts of the
parable are illustrated to the modern traveler. Tares abound throughout
the country, and in many respects they resemble the American _cheat_.
The stalk stands perfectly erect, and the small grains are arranged
compactly one above the other. Having a bitter taste, they produce
dizziness when eaten, whether by man or beast, and are regarded as
a strong soporific poison. If the Savior designed to represent the
existence of the _good_ and _bad_ in his Church, no illustration
could have been selected more appropriate and impressive. The “wheat
and tares” derive nourishment from the same soil; they are so much
alike before the grain is _headed out_ that it is quite impossible
to distinguish the stalk of the one from that of the other, even to
those accustomed to weed their fields; and so intertwined are the roots
of both, “that they must grow together until the harvest” before the
wheat can be gathered into the garner and the tares collected to be
burnt. And here, no doubt, was growing then, as it grows now, the
mustard-plant, which formed the basis of a second parable. Attaining
the height of ten feet, its trunk is slender, the leaves are broad, and
the blossoms yellow. Though this _wild_ and perennial shrub may aid our
conceptions of the tree which our Lord describes, yet it is probable
that the variety to which he alludes was _cultivated_, and was the
_“least of all seeds” sown by the husbandman, and when grown was “the
greatest among herbs” in all his garden_.
Illustration: PLAIN OF GENNESARET AND HOME OF MARY MAGDALENE.
On the northern horn of this crescent plain is the site of the renowned
city of Capernaum. Plucking an anemone in memory of the devoted Mary,
we passed up the coast, and found the distance to be scarcely four
miles. In attempting to ford one of the mountain streams which pour
their turbid waters into the lake, our horses sank into the soft clay
bottom, leaving us no alternative but to dismount and wade ashore.
Accustomed to such incidents in Oriental traveling, we remounted, and,
hastening over the plain, reached Capernaum at ten A.M.
Though its early history is involved in much obscurity, and though
it is not mentioned in the Old Testament, it was probably built by
the Jews after their return from Babylon. At the commencement of the
Christian era it was a large and prosperous town, but it is indebted to
the presence and works of Jesus for its present renown. As the history
of its origin is obscure, so the time of its destruction is unknown.
But whether the evidence of the identity of the site is drawn from the
incidental allusions of the evangelists,[580] or from the history of
Josephus,[581] or from the writings of the fathers, or from eminent
travelers down to the 17th century,[582] or from the topography of the
spot, the argument is no less clear than satisfactory. Judging from
the heaps of ruins covering portions of the plain, the city stood near
the base of a bold bluff, which rises in the form of a truncated cone
300 feet high, and which dips its eastern end into the sea, while its
western extremity is bounded by a green meadow stretching along the
shore. At the foot of the cliff is the large “Fountain of the Fig,” so
called from a noble fig-tree that shades the cave from which the stream
issues. The water is clear, cool, and sweet, and flows over a broad
pebbled bed into the lake. Near the fountain are the remains of a tower,
to which is attached a portion of an arched gateway, and south of it
is a low mound of shapeless ruins, overgrown with thorns and thistles.
Nearly 1000 feet to the northwest from ’Ain et-Tîn is the old Khan
Minyeh, lying under the western brow of the hill, which, standing on
the great caravan route between Egypt and Damascus, is designed for the
accommodation of pilgrims.
Ascending the bold cliff behind the city, we found the sides terraced,
and the flattened summit covered with wheat and barley, ripe for the
harvest. From this lofty position we obtained a delightful view. At our
feet lay the lake, smooth and bright, like polished silver, and beyond
the broad valley of the Jordan opened before us. On the east the eye
glanced over the Plains of Bashan and the Mountains of Gilead; on the
north, Safed rose in solitary grandeur; while on the west were the
Land of Gennesaret, and, over lower hills, the “Mount of Beatitudes.”
Charmed with the view and overwhelmed with the recollections of the
past, I sat down and read the eventful history of Capernaum. Rivaling
Jerusalem in the number and sacredness of its hallowed associations,
it is to the north what the former is to the south. Not excepting
Olivet, it stands pre-eminent in evangelical history as the scene of
our Lord’s most instructive discourses and most astonishing miracles.
Driven from Nazareth by his ungrateful townsmen, “he came and dwelt
in Capernaum,”[583] which from that time forward became “his own
city.”[584] Returning hither from journeys to other parts, here he was
received with affection and revered as divine. Here, in the synagogue,
on the Sabbath day, having astonished the people by the authority with
which he had enforced his doctrines, he healed the demoniac.[585]
Passing from the synagogue, “he entered the house of Simon and
Andrew,” and finding the mother of Peter’s wife “sick of a fever,”
he immediately restored her to health,[585] and that night the people
thronged the door of the dwelling, “and he healed many that were
sick of divers diseases.”[585] Returning from the “country of the
Gergesenes,” he cured the paralytic;[586] and passing by the receipt
of custom, he called Matthew to the apostleship.[586] Descending from
the “Mount of Beatitudes,” he here restored the servant of the devout
centurion.[587] Yielding to the paternal entreaties of Jairus, he
entered the ruler’s house, and, taking the dead damsel by the hand,
uttered those life-giving words, “Talitha-cumi,” and “she arose and
walked.” It was while going on this errand of mercy that, as he passed
through the thronged streets of Capernaum, a daughter of Israel “came
in the press behind and touched his garment,” and was made whole.[588]
Coming from the visions and glory of Tabor, he was here met by those
who “received tribute-money,” and sent forth Peter, who miraculously
obtained from the mouth of a fish a coin bearing the image and
superscription of Cæsar.[589] It was here, in a house no longer
standing, that, after delivering from the deck of a fish-boat the
memorable parables of the “Sower,” the “Tares,” the “Mustard-seed,”
and the “Leaven,” he gave forth the parables of the “Hidden Treasure,”
the “Merchant seeking goodly Pearls,” and of the “Net cast into the
Sea.”[590]
Here, in the home of St. Matthew, and around his well-spread board, our
Lord discoursed on “fasting.”[591] At a subsequent period he reproved
the Scribes and Pharisees for their “formality;”[592] and on the
morning after he had calmed the storm he taught the people the nature
of “faith;”[593] and here, either in the house of Simon or Levi, in
the privacies of social life, and surrounded only by his disciples, he
chided their ambition, rebuked their sectarianism, and unfolded to them
the beauty and power of humility, forbearance, and brotherly love.[594]
Who can wonder at the judgments pronounced upon a city so highly
favored, whose citizens refused to be enlightened by such words of
wisdom, and convinced by such acts of mercy? Rejecting him, he in turn
has rejected them. The “woe” has fallen heavily upon the ungrateful
city, and time has proven the fulfillment of prophecy. “And thou,
Capernaum, which art exalted to heaven, shalt be brought down to hell;
for if the mighty works which have been done in thee had been done in
Sodom, it would have remained until this day. But I say unto thee, it
shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom in the day of judgment
than for thee.”[595] Whether this exaltation denoted the lofty site of
the city, or its pride and prosperity, the abasement is equally true.
The desolation is universal; the ruin is complete. There is a dispute
among the learned whether the town stood upon the high hill above the
fountain, or on the plain below. In all probability the hill served
as the acropolis, commanding the entire plain, on the northeast end
of which the larger portion of the city was built. As there is no
path along the northern shore, we wound up the sides of a precipitous
promontory dipping into the sea, and found a path excavated in the
rock 20 feet above the water-line, and measuring three feet deep and
as many wide. Descending to the shore of a beautiful bay, and riding
northeastward, in 20 minutes from Capernaum we came to Bethsaida, the
home of Peter and his brethren. Bearing the Arabic name of Et-Tâbighah,
this city of the holy apostles stands in a charming little nook in the
mountain side. The hills rise around it in graceful gradations, and
on the west is a small but lonely bay, encircled by a beach of fine
sand, and just such a place as fishermen love to ground their boats and
spread their nets upon. Unoccupied except by a few _millers_, the chief
attraction of the place is its pools, fountains, and aqueducts. No city
of its size in Palestine has so many and valuable water facilities as
Bethsaida. The larger fountains burst out from the base of the mountain
300 yards to the north, and around the principal one is a large
octagonal reservoir, with two circular holes designed as drains. A
flight of steps in the southwest corner leads down to the water, which
is warm and sulphurous, and about eight feet deep. From the bottom of
the reservoir there were canes growing to the height of 20 feet. Nearer
the shore is a circular well, called ’Ain Eyûb, or “Job’s Fountain.”
This reservoir, together with several mills, were constructed by Dhâher
el-Omer, and now belong to the government, by whom they are farmed out
to villagers from the neighboring towns.
Originally called the “House of Fish,” as significant of the
vocation of its ancient inhabitants, Bethsaida will ever live in the
recollection of the pious as the birthplace of five apostles, who have
stamped the world with their influence, and affected the opinions and
destiny of mankind in all countries. Here Peter, and Andrew, and James,
and John, and Philip spent their childhood, and here they engaged in
the humble but honest calling of fishermen. It was probably on the
shore of the small bay previously described that Jesus, walking by the
Sea of Galilee, saw two brethren, Simon called Peter, and Andrew his
brother, casting a net into the sea, and said unto them, “Follow me,
and I will make you fishers of men. And going on from thence, he saw
other two brethren, James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother,
and he called them, and they followed him.”[596] And here, no doubt, is
the scene of that miraculous draught of fishes, which astonished the
disciples, and convinced them of the divine character of our Lord.[597]
But this Bethsaida must not be confounded with the one east of the
Jordan, and which has already been noticed as having been enlarged and
beautified by Philip the tetrarch. The latter being in Gaulonitis and
not in Galilee, it could not have been the native city of the apostles,
who were _Galileans_; and though it may appear unusual to find two
cities of the same name in such close proximity, yet the singularity
disappears when it is remembered that they belonged to separate
provinces, and that Bethsaida Julias is not on the lake shore, but on
the eastern bank of the Jordan, two miles from the mouth of the river.
This distinction sheds much light upon a somewhat obscure passage by St.
Mark. After our Lord had learned of the execution of John the Baptist,
he left Capernaum, and, with his disciples, “departed into a desert
place by ships privately.”[598] St. John, with greater exactitude,
says that “Jesus went over the Sea of Galilee.”[599] The “desert place”
is on the northeastern shore of the lake, where he fed the 5000, and
is “over the sea.” Having dismissed the multitude, “he constrained his
disciples to get into a ship, and to go to the other side before unto
Bethsaida,” which is on “the other side;” and as it is only a mile from
Capernaum, agrees with St. John, who records that “they went over the
sea toward Capernaum.”[600] They embarked for Bethsaida, but the “wind
was contrary,” and they were driven from their course to the southward.
“About the fourth watch of the night” Jesus came “walking on the sea,”
and, entering the ship, “the wind ceased.” With a minuteness that
leaves us without a doubt, St. Matthew and St. Mark say, “They came
into the land of Gennesaret;”[601] and St. John designates which
portion of Gennesaret they came to in saying that “when the people
saw that Jesus was on the other side, they took shipping and came
to Capernaum seeking for Jesus, and that they found him there.”[602]
Had the disciples sailed for Bethsaida Julias, it would have been
impossible for them to have sailed “_over the sea toward Capernaum_,”
as the former is not “over the sea,” and is not in the same direction
with the latter, Capernaum being southwest and Julias northeast. Nor
is the difficulty relieved by supposing that Tell Hum is the true site
of Capernaum, as the argument drawn from the direction of the place
remains in full force.
Having satisfied his mind touching the identity of a place, the
traveler lingers about the spot with no ordinary delight. Such were
the pleasing emotions I experienced as I stood amid the ruins of the
home of Peter, James, and John, and watched the crystal waters flowing
into the sea through banks lined with oleanders in full bloom. And the
impression was overwhelming as the great fact rose up before my mind
that in this retired quarter of the globe――in this Galilean village of
humble pretensions, five inspired apostles were born, who from their
fish-boats went forth commissioned to evangelize the world, and to
be the biographers of the Son of God. It is an ancient suggestion,
that the scenery of childhood gives tone to the character of a man
and direction to his coming years. Few men whose acts fill so large
a portion of the world’s history have evinced traits of character so
opposite, and transitions in their emotional natures so remarkable as
the “fishermen of Bethsaida.” Pure as they were simple, benevolent as
they were sincere, they loved and hated, hoped and despaired; they were
bold and fearful, joyful and sorrowful, firm and inconstant, as the
surrounding circumstances were favorable to the development of their
better natures, or to disclose the weaknesses of our common humanity.
Looking out upon the scene before me, I fancied that their finer
feelings and gentler traits were evoked by the deep blue skies, the
transparent atmosphere, the mellow dawn, the golden sunset, the placid
lake, the flowing fountains, the blooming flowers and shell-strewn
shores, while the rugged mountains and boisterous storms at sea aroused
their fiery and impetuous spirits. When composed they resembled their
embowered lake, whose placid waters mirror the overhanging foliage
along its banks; but when agitated, they were like their native sea
during a storm, when the deep was troubled, when thunder answered
thunder, and the roar of the waters responded to the howl of the winds.
Three miles to the northeast are the remains of the city of Chorazin.
In the intervening space the hills approach the shore, exposing at
intervals a rough bank, lined with a tangled thicket of a thorny shrub.
In the spring-time the black tents of the predatory farmers dot the
table-land, only one of which now remained, and around it a solitary
shepherd was keeping his flock. It was while riding over this broad
plateau that we were startled by one of those squalls peculiar to this
inland sea. The air had been quiet, the lake calm, and the heavens were
cloudless, but within five minutes the wind blew a gale, the sea became
troubled, the waves rolled high and dashed wildly on the shore. It was
a repetition of that scene when the disciples were sailing over the sea;
when “Jesus was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow;”
when “there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the
ship, so that it was now full;” and when, in the moment of danger, they
awoke the Divine Sleeper, “who arose and rebuked the wind, and said
unto the sea, Peace, be still.”[603] The natural causes operating and
producing such effects in that distant age are still in force. The sea
is 600 feet lower than the ocean; the mountains on the east and north
rise to a great height, and their sides are furrowed with deep and wild
ravines; and the temperature of this volcanic basin differing from that
on the mountains above, these profound gorges serve as vast conductors,
through which, at certain periods, the cold winds from above rush
suddenly down, causing a tempest in an unexpected moment.
The ruins of Chorazin lie upon the shore, covering a level tract half
a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide. Consisting chiefly of the
foundations and prostrate walls of dwellings, they are overgrown with
a thicket of thistles eight feet high, and so dense that it is almost
impossible to penetrate and examine the remains. The walls of a square
tower 10 feet high are standing, and are composed of fragments of
columns, capitals, and friezes, mingled with hewn stone of different
dimensions. To the east of the tower we entered a structure, the
object of which can not now be determined. Portions of the northern
and western walls remain, the former measuring 105 feet long, and the
latter about 80. Within this inclosure are strewn, in utter confusion,
limestone columns, Corinthian capitals, sculptured entablatures,
ornamental friezes, double columns, and immense blocks of stone nine
feet long and five wide, with panels sculptured in their sides. This
may have been a magnificent Jewish synagogue, a substitute in part
for the noble Temple of Jerusalem. In the days of our Savior and five
centuries after, Chorazin was a populous and wealthy city. Driven
from their ancient capital, the Jews settled on the shores of this
lake. Their Sanhedrim found a resting-place at Tiberias, and Magdala,
Capernaum, Bethsaida, and Chorazin became their chief towns. In the
wealth of her citizens, the grandeur of her architecture, and the
influence of her religious institutions, the latter appears to have
been as influential as magnificent. But the “woe” has fallen on
Chorazin. What the “mighty works which were done” in her were we are
not informed, but evidently they were of such a character as to give
light to her people, in the rejection of which was involved her ruin.
Rejecting that light, she has fallen with her sister towns; and without
a single habitation, the most beautiful site for a city on all these
shores is now a thorn-bed, where adders crawl and jackals hide. “Woe
unto thee, Chorazin! woe unto thee, Bethsaida! for if the mighty works
which were done in thee had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would
have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes.” And if the present
small but thriving towns of Tyre and Sidon be compared to this “howling
wilderness,” this “perfection of desolation,” the contrast can not fail
to suggest to every impartial mind the marvelous and strangely exact
fulfillment of our Lord’s solemn predictions.[604] Indeed, the Lake
of Gennesaret is a beautiful desolation. Her villas are in ruins,
her fisheries have failed, her ship-yards are silent, her commerce is
destroyed, her manufactories are abandoned, and her waters, which were
the rich possession of Naphthali, are without a keel to divide them, or
a sail to fly before their mountain gusts.
Turning inland and following a path along the base of the mountain,
an hour’s ride brought us to the mouth of the Jordan. Forty miles to
the northeast, up the broad ravine through which the most illustrious
of earthly rivers flows, appeared Mount Hermon, with his icy crown
brilliant in the midday sun. For nine miles the path follows the
river bank to ’Jisr Benât Yakûb, the “Bridge of Jacob’s Daughters.”
It is the only bridge which at present spans the Jordan, and its three
arches, with its well-paved roadway, are in good condition. Though
traditionally marking the site where Jacob, staff in hand, crossed the
stream, yet it is not easy to determine why the word “daughters” should
be added. The Jordan is here a rapid stream, 25 yards wide and 10 feet
deep, flowing between alluvial banks fringed with thickets of reeds
and rank grass. From the bridge on the eastern bank of the river, a
beautiful level tract of land extends northward for three miles to the
foot of Lake Hûleh. Four and a half miles in length and three and a
half in breadth, this charming lake is the first gathering together
of the waters of the Upper Jordan as they descend from their perennial
springs. Known in the Bible as the “Waters of Merom,” and called by
Josephus Samochonitis,[605] it was on the shore of this lake that
Joshua “smote Jabin, king of Hazor.”[606] Passing the probable site
of Hazor, two miles to the west from the fountain of Mellâhah, and
crossing the deep glen through which the Hasbâny flows to the Jordan,
the path runs over undulating ground to Tell el-Kâdy, “The Hill of the
Judge,” or the Dan of Scripture, situated 12 miles from the northern
end of Lake Hûleh. Rising from the midst of a level plain, the hill
on which the ancient city stood is 80 feet high and three quarters of
a mile in circumference. It is covered with trees and bushes, which
conceal the ruins of the old town. Placed by Josephus at the fountain
of the Jordan, and located by Eusebius a quarter of a mile from Paneas,
on the way to Tyre, there can be no question as to the identity of the
place. Its history is as sanguinary as it is romantic. Captured by the
princes of Mesopotamia, hither Lot was brought after the pillage of
Sodom; and, inspired by a courage that was never blanched with fear,
here Abraham overtook the captors of his nephew, and dividing his 318
“trained servants born in his own house,” he fell upon the foe by night,
“and smote them and pursued them unto Hobah, which is on the left
hand of Damascus; and he brought back all his goods, and also brought
again his brother Lot,[607] and his goods, and the women also, and the
people.”[608] Called in the days of the Judges Laish, its capture by
the Danites forms one of the most romantic stories in the Old Testament.
Unable to expel the more powerful Philistines who occupied a large part
of their tribeship, 600 armed men from the cities of Zorah and Eshtool
went up and smote the rich and careless Sidonians who inhabited the
town, and, taking possession of the city, they called it “Dan, after
their father.” On their way northward they had stopped at Mount Ephraim,
where they pillaged the house of Micah of the holy symbols of his
religion, and compelled a young Levite to accompany them, “to be to
them a father and a priest.”[609] Though a trifling conquest when
compared to the grand achievements of Joshua and David, the capture
of Laish and its occupation by the Danites was the fulfillment of
an ancient prophecy: “Dan is a lion’s whelp; he shall leap from
Bashan;”[610] and from that time the city was regarded as the northern
border of the Promised Land, and gave rise to that household expression,
“From Dan to Beersheba.”[611]
But the city of Dan is no less celebrated for its waters than for
its interesting history. At the western base of the hill there is the
largest fountain in Syria, and among the largest in the world. Bursting
forth from the rocks, the water first forms a small lake, from which it
rushes southward a rapid river, called the Leddân. Four miles below it
forms a junction with a large stream from Baniâs, and a mile beyond the
confluence it is joined by the River Hasbâny, which gives its name to
the stream down to the Lake Hûleh. Thus gradually the Jordan is formed.
Winding through oaken groves, and lined with myrtle and oleanders,
the road diverges to the northeast, and four miles from Dan is Cæsarea
Philippi. Occupying a broad terrace in the mountain side, it is bounded
by two sublime ravines, one on the north and the other on the south,
between which, and in the rear of the site, rise the castellated
heights of Subeibeh 1000 feet high. The terrace is adorned with groves
of oaks and olives, and carpeted with the richest verdure. A site so
remarkable for its Alpine scenery did not fail to attract the earlier
Phœnicians, and, at a later period, the Greeks and Romans. Supposed
to be the “Baal Gad” of Scripture, it was early consecrated by the
Canaanites to the idolatrous worship of one of their Baals.[612] Chosen
by the Greeks to be the shrine of Pan, it retains the name of Bâniâs,
the Arabic form of Paneas. Coming into the possession of “Philip,
tetrarch of Iturea and Trachonitis,” it was rebuilt and enlarged by
the son of Herod the Great, who named it Cæsarea, in honor of Tiberius
Cæsar; and to distinguish it from Cæsarea on the Mediterranean coast,
and to perpetuate his own name, he called it Cæsarea Philippi. Among
its mighty ruins is a citadel of quadrangular form covering four acres,
and surrounded by a massive wall with heavy towers at the angles and
sides. Guarded on the east by a deep moat, it is washed on the north
and west by a large stream, and on the south it is protected by a
profound chasm, which is spanned by a bridge, from which a noble
gateway opens into the citadel. Within this inclosure, and surrounded
by granite columns and limestone shafts, are the 40 dwellings of the
modern town. To the north of the ruins, and at the base of a cliff of
ruddy limestone 100 feet high, is a cave of vast dimensions, and as
dark as vast. Within are the fragments of noble edifices, and around
its mouth are heaps of broken rocks and portions of ancient buildings.
In harmony with Grecian mythology, this deep cavern was selected
as the temple of the sylvan Pan, and on the face of the cliff a
Greek inscription records the sacred history of the cave. The Romans
succeeding the Greeks, Herod the Great erected a splendid temple of
white marble to Augustus near the place called _Panium_.[613] Destroyed
by some unknown power, the ruins of this temple are entombed in
the cave, excepting a fragment clinging to the rocks above, and now
dedicated to a Moslem saint. Near this spot is the great fountain of
Bâniâs, which is one of the principal sources of the Jordan. Bursting
forth from beneath heaps of rubbish, the water flows in a rapid,
foaming torrent over a rocky bed, and, plunging over a precipice,
falls into a dark ravine, through which it runs southward and joins
the Hasbâny.
As the northern limit of our Savior’s wanderings, Cæsarea Philippi
was the scene of one of the most interesting incidents in our Lord’s
life. Having restored a blind man at Bethsaida Julias, he and his
disciples passed up this same route, and, coming into the towns of
Cæsarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Whom do men say that I
am?” Receiving their reply, he tested their faith by the more personal
question, “But whom say ye that I am?” Ever ready with an answer,
and acting as the mouth-piece of his brethren, St. Peter uttered that
extraordinary confession, “Thou art the Christ, the son of the living
God.” Satisfied with an answer no less satisfactory than true, he
returned southward, and “after six days” he was transfigured on the
summit of Tabor, commanding a view of his native hills.[614]
Illustration: UPPER JORDAN.
Passing on the east the castle of Subeibeh, the road to Hasbeiya is
through a region as wild as it is picturesque. Eighteen miles from
Cæsarea Philippi is the fountain of Hasbâny, the principal source of
the Upper Jordan. At the foot of a volcanic bluff the waters burst
forth, and by means of a strong and permanent dam are collected into
a pond, from which they are turned into a wide mill-race. Escaping
therefrom, they commence their long descent, and, augmented by vast
tributaries, they flow on through two successive lakes, to be received
into a third, where they are evaporated by the intense heat of the
Vale of Siddim. Thus formed, the River Jordan is at once remarkable
for its length and descent. Though, as the crow flies, it is not more
than 120 miles long from its highest source at Hasbeiya to the point
where it enters into the Dead Sea, yet, owing to its tortuous channel,
it can not be less than 300 miles in length; and it is an equally
extraordinary fact that in its descent from Lake Huleh to its southern
termination, which in a straight line is but 80 miles, it has a fall of
more than 1300 feet.
The village of Hasbeiya is situated on both sides of a deep glen, which
descends from a side ridge of Hermon westward into Wady et-Teim. The
head of the ravine being but a little east of the town, the latter is
inclosed on three sides by high hills, which are regularly terraced
and planted with vineyards, olive-groves, and fig-orchards. Of its 5000
inhabitants, 4000 are Christians, and the remainder Druzes. Aside from
its great fountain, the only object of interest is a group of Druze
chapels, the most celebrated of all the sanctuaries belonging to that
sect. Crowning some of the lofty summits, they are strongly built, and
the only architectural peculiarity they possess is the smallness of
the windows. Constituting a secret society, the Druzes select the most
solitary places for their temples, to which no stranger may intrude.
But the commanding feature in the natural scenery of this region is
Mount Hermon. From Hasbeiya it requires six hours of hard climbing to
reach its lofty summit. The path first ascends a high wooded ridge;
then, crossing a deep ravine, it winds upward over loose stones and
amid tufts of coarse grass. A part of the anti-Lebanon range, Hermon
is a vast limestone mountain, consisting of three principal summits.
The northern one is the highest, and has the appearance of an obtuse
truncated cone; the ascent is but 900 feet south from the parent range,
and directly beneath its summit, some 5000 feet, in a basin-like glen,
are the sources of the River Pharpar, near a small village called ’Arny.
The third peak is a quarter of a mile to the west from the latter, and
is the lowest of the three.
The second highest mountain in Syria, Hermon is 10,000 feet high. From
its loftiest summit the eye sweeps over a landscape of extraordinary
grandeur. The two parallel ranges of Lebanon and anti-Lebanon stretch
far away to the “entering of Hamath” in the north, with the great
valley of the Bukâ’a between them. Turning southward, the eye follows
the sacred river, now resting in the basin of Hûleh, now expanding into
the Sea of Tiberias, and beyond pursuing its infinite windings through
the Jordan valley to the shining waters of the Dead Sea. Along its
eastern banks appear in regular succession the rich pastures and “oaks
of Bashan”, the Mountains of Gilead, and those of Ammon and Moab,
and opposite, the Hills of Samaria, of Benjamin, and Judah. Turning
westward, there is Carmel and Tabor, and the Hills of Galilee; and
on the white coast-line, ’Akka, Tyre, and Sidon; and far out into the
“great sea,” its waters mingling with the western horizon, is the Isle
of Cyprus――the Chittim of the Phœnicians, and the scene of the ministry
of Paul and Barnabas. Turning eastward, there is the Hauran, with its
unvisited cities; and beyond, the Arabian Desert, from whose burning
sands the sun comes forth, to descend at night into the cooling waters
of the Mediterranean.
The southern peak of Hermon is crowned with curious ruins. Around the
rocky crest is a circular wall, some of the large stones of which are
beveled, while others have a plain moulding around the edge. Here are
the remains of some grand but unknown temple, one of the columns of
which stands upon the brow of a steep declivity. It is supposed that
the ancient inhabitants of the land, being worshipers of the sun, here
built their altar to that shining orb who is seen running his course in
the heavens from the desert to the sea.
Around the base of this noble mountain vegetation is luxuriant, and
on the lower ridges radiating from it are forests of oaks, interspersed
with mountain shrubs; but the peaks are naked, and are covered with
small limestones, rendering them smooth and bleak. Perpetual winter
reigns upon their summits. The snow never disappears. All through the
springtime to early summer, they resemble white domes standing out
against the purple skies. In midsummer and in autumn the intense heat
melts the snow from the tops of the ridges, but, owing to its greater
depth, does not affect that portion which fills the ravines. And
thus Hermon appears, alternately streaked with light and dark lines,
till hoary winter comes again to weave his mantle of white, and cover
therewith those majestic summits, the symbols of a purer world.
In every age it has had a name significant of some physical
peculiarities. Its “lofty conical peak” suggested the name of Hermon;
its rounded top, covered with snow and ice, and glittering in the
sunlight, appeared to the Sidonians and Amorites like a massive
“breast-plate,” and by the former it was called “Sirion,” and by the
latter “Shemr.”[615] Towering above its fellows, it is named by Moses
“Sion――the Elevated;”[616] and, impressed with its majesty, the Arabs
call it “Jebel esh Sheikh――the Chief Mountain.”
In the poetry and geography of the Bible it is the image of grandeur
and the landmark of national domain. Joshua conquered all the land
east of the Jordan, “from the River Arnon unto Mount Hermon.”[617]
Visible from almost every tribe’s possession, Hermon was not only
the terminating point of view northward, but to the inspired writer,
whether prophet or poet, it was “the image of unearthly grandeur, which
nothing else but perpetual snow can give, especially as seen in the
summer, when the firmament around it seems to be on fire.”[618] In
his exaltation of the Creator the Psalmist exclaims, “The north and
the south, thou hast created them; Tabor and Hermon shall rejoice in
thy name.”[619] The summit snows, condensing the vapors which, during
summer, float around it in the higher regions of the atmosphere,
produce abundant dew, which is a source of unfailing moisture to the
adjacent country, while other portions of the land remained dry and
parched. As the source of perpetual verdure and refreshing coolness,
it was the image to the Hebrew poet of the enduring blessings of unity
among brethren to the whole community. “As the dew of Hermon, and as
the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion;[620] for there the
Lord commanded his blessing, even life for evermore.”[621]
Returning to Magdala _en route_ for Nazareth, we entered “The Valley of
the Pigeons,” one of the wildest glens in Northern Palestine. Bearing
the Arabic name of Wady el-Hamân, it leads up from the Plain of
Gennesaret to the Mount of Beatitudes. Its mouth is a mile to the west
from the home of Mary of Magdala. At its entrance the ravine is broad,
but contracts to a narrow mountain defile. The cliffs on either side
are naked and broken, and rise to the height of a thousand feet. The
one on the north is not as high as it is massive; the one on the south
is bolder and more precipitous. Far up the gorge, and directly in front
of the path, is a perpendicular bluff, terminating in a triangular
point, and not unlike in appearance a venerable castle. Near its
ancient base is a small but pretty spring, sending forth a soft murmur
on the quiet air of Hamân. In the face of the rocks are immense natural
and artificial caverns, the resort of pigeons, from which the vale
takes its name. During the reign of Herod the Great these caves were
filled with robbers, who were the scourges of the whole surrounding
country. After the battle of Sepphoris Herod besieged this strong-hold.
Failing in his attempt to scale the cliffs, he let boxes filled with
soldiers down the face of the precipice, and landed them at the
entrance of the caverns. Attacking the bandits with fire and sword,
he succeeded in dislodging them, killing some, and dragging others out
with long hooks, and then dashing them down on the rocks below.[622]
Illustration: “VALLEY OF THE PIGEONS.”
At the western end of this wild glen is the green plateau of Hattîn. Of
irregular form, it is a mile in its greatest breadth. Every where well
cultivated, it is bounded on the east, north, and south by low hills,
and on the west by the Mount of Beatitudes. Ascending the “Mount,” I
found it to consist of two low summits, which suggested its present
name, Kurûn Hattîn, “The Horns of Hattîn,” from a fancied resemblance
to the two horns of a camel’s saddle. Being a quarter of a mile long,
the adjacent ground rises gradually to its base, and the hill forms a
crest less than 100 feet high. Relying upon an earlier tradition, the
Crusaders revered Kurûn Hattîn as one of the sacred mountains, and, so
far as they furnish any proof on the subject, the evangelists confirm
the earlier and later traditions. Their simple story is that “Jesus
went about all Galilee, preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and
healing all manner of sickness and all manner of disease among the
people. And there followed him great multitudes of people from Galilee,
and from Decapolis, and from Jerusalem, and from Judea, and from beyond
Jordan. And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain; and when
he was set, his disciples came unto him; and he opened his mouth and
taught them.”[623] The region of country, the distance from the sea,
the magnificence of the surrounding scenery, the city of Safed “set
upon a hill,” the sloping sides of the mountain, and the lovely Plain
of Hattîn at its base, combine to render this a befitting place for the
delivery of our Lord’s “Sermon on the Mount.” Around it are the Hills
of Galilee, to the east is seen the sea, and beyond it are Bashan and
Bozrah; while to the north, surmounting one of the highest and grandest
of the Galilean mountains, is the old Jewish city of Safed, to which,
no doubt, the Savior pointed when he compared his Church on earth to
“a city that is set upon a hill, that can not be hid.” Only those who
have seen Safed can appreciate the beauty and appropriateness of our
Lord’s allusion. From its moss-grown castle is not only obtained a
view of the most glorious panorama in Palestine, stretching from the
“Mountains of Samaria” to the Arabian Desert, but the allusion amounts
to almost absolute truth that the “city can not be hid.” Through all my
journeyings for a week it followed me, and the “city set upon a hill”
was ever suggesting the sublime lessons of the “Beatitudes.” Whether on
the shores of Tiberias, or on the Plains of Hattîn, or on the Hills of
Nazareth, or by the Fountain of Seffurieh, or on the green fields of
El-Buttauf, the city of Safed was before me, rising up from earth like
a beacon-light, at once the confirmation of the Savior’s words, and the
impressive symbol of a living Church.
But Kurûn Hattîn has a history other than that of having been the
scene of the mild and life-giving teachings of Christ. It has a record
of blood. On its heights and around its base was fought one of the
saddest and most bloody battles in mediæval times, and the one which
sealed the fate of the Crusaders in Palestine, and opened the gates of
the Holy City to the profane and tyrannical rule of the Turks. Here, on
the fifth of July, 1187, the flower of the Christian army, under Guy of
Lusignan, met the barbarous hordes of Mohammedans, led on by Saladin,
the mighty prince.
The Christians had succeeded to the full occupation of the Holy Land
from ancient Gaza to the venerable city of Antioch. The weak-minded
Guy of Lusignan had been elevated to the throne of Jerusalem as the
successor of Baldwin V.; and as the powerful vassals of the king,
Raynald of Chatillon was Lord of Kerak, and Count Raymond was Lord of
Tiberias and Galilee. The Christians were enjoying a period of repose,
under a truce which had been concluded with Saladin, the nephew of
Nourreddin, and the new Sultan of Egypt. But Raynald of Chatillon,
proving faithless to the compact, had plundered a caravan of merchants
passing from Damascus to Arabia, and had even threatened the distant
cities of Mecca and Medina. Saladin condescended to remonstrate, and
demanded the release of the prisoners whom the Lord of Kerak held
in chains. His demand rejected, the sultan swore to dispatch the
perfidious Raynald with his own hand should he ever fall into his power.
To revenge this breach of faith, Saladin lost no time in marshaling a
mighty army. Damascus was the appointed rendezvous, and the warriors
of the Crescent assembled in thousands, not only from the Assyrian
provinces, but also from Egypt, Arabia, and Mesopotamia.
Alarmed by such stupendous preparations, the Crusaders in turn
prepared to resist the foe and defend the sacred soil. Five miles to
the southwest from Hattîn is the large fountain of Seffurieh, which
was the gathering-place of the Christian army. As if impressed with the
finality of the struggle, the defenders of the Cross came from their
mountain castles and their most distant fortresses to conquer or to
die. From the banks of the Kadîsha and of the Orontes, and from the
shores of Tiberias, Raymond came with his faithful followers; from the
fortresses of Kerak and Shobêk, Raynald led his well-trained knights;
lesser barons advanced from Ascalon, Cæsarea, and Sidon, while the King
of Jerusalem led in person a numerous army of Templars and hired troops.
To add significance to the hour, the venerable bishops of Ptolemais
and Lydda brought the Holy Cross which St. Helena had recovered, and
elevated it amid the embattled host as the symbol of their faith and
the inspiration of their courage.
More than a month had elapsed before the Moslems appeared. At length
Saladin, with 80,000 horse and foot, swept around the head of the
Lake of Tiberias, and took possession of the heights above the town.
Encamped upon the Plains of Hattîn, and hoping to bring on a speedy and
general engagement on his well-chosen field, the sultan sent out light
detachments to lay waste the country from Jezreel to Tabor, and thence
to Nazareth, within four miles of the enemy’s camp. Unsuccessful in
this attempt, he then seized Tiberias, and compelled the wife of Count
Raymond to retire with her children to the castle of the city.
The intelligence of the capture of the capital of Galilee, and of
the imminent danger of the wife and children of the Count of Tripolis,
reached the camp of the Christians on the 3d of July. That night a
council of war was held to decide upon the action of the coming day.
Inspired by the misfortunes of a woman and confident of success,
the king and his barons resolved to march in close array for the
deliverance of Tiberias. Though unquestionably the most interested
party, yet, from motives which have never been explained, Count Raymond
opposed the decision of the council, and, having shown the folly of
offensive movements in the heat of midsummer, in a region destitute
of water and far from the base of their supplies, his policy was
unanimously approved of by the king and the other members of the
council. But, regarding the decision as unworthy the army of the
Cross, the Grand Master of the Templars repaired to the royal tent, and
overwhelmed the king with reproaches for having listened to the advice
of a traitor, and conjured him not to suffer such a stain of cowardice
to rest upon the Christian name. Overpersuaded, the king gave orders to
arm, and at midnight the trumpet sounded, while heralds flew throughout
the startled camp proclaiming the royal decree.
At dawn on the 4th of July the Christian army was in motion. His scouts
had brought Saladin intelligence of the movement, and immediately he
dispatched his light troops to harass the Crusaders on their march,
while with consummate skill he posted his main army on the plain and
along the crest of Hattîn. His ardent wishes were about to be gratified,
and his long-maturing plans were on the point of consummation. Late in
the afternoon of the same day the King of Jerusalem reached the field
of El-Lubieh, two miles to the southwest from the “Horns of Hattîn,”
where a desperate battle occurred. Night closed around the belligerent
armies without decisive result. That was a dreadful night. The wisdom
of Raymond’s advice now became apparent. The heat was intense; and,
besides being harassed by the fierce Arabs, the Christians were
dying for the want of water. Too weak-minded to take advantage of the
darkness and order a midnight attack, and at least gain the shores
of the lake, the feeble Guy determined to defer the conflict till the
morrow. Whether to revenge the insult offered to his prudent counsels,
or conscious of the impossibility of success in attempting to force the
ranks of the foe, Raymond of Tripolis advised the course pursued. But
it was the fatal step.
At length the morning came. It was the 5th day of July, 1187 A.D.
The sky was cloudless, and the sun rose amid a fiery haze――the presage
of consuming heat. It was a Syrian midsummer day, and the heavens
were on fire. Led by their mighty prince, the followers of the Prophet
were no less hopeful than brave. But, posted on a rocky plain without
water, and with their tormenting thirst increased by the smoke and
heat arising from the shrubs and trees which the enemy had set on fire,
the Christians received the first shock of battle with a despondency
preintimating the defeat that terminated that dreadful struggle. Yet
on no previous field had they displayed a truer devotion, nor evinced
a loftier courage. With varied fortunes, the battle raged from early
dawn till late in the day. Now the Holy Cross was raised in momentary
triumph, now the banner of the Crescent waved in transient victory. But
in vain did the Knights of St. John launch their burnished spears at
a foe they justly hate, and with equal courage receive in return the
arrows and javelins of the Saracens. At length, driven to the highest
summit of Hattîn, the king and a handful of Templars gathered around
the Holy Cross. Again and again they drove back the enemy, and as
often repulsed the terrible attacks of Saladin’s cavalry. Manfully the
bravest of the knights fell wounded around the symbol of their faith,
and the Bishop of Ptolemais, who bore the Cross, was pierced with an
arrow, and, falling bleeding to the ground, for a moment the sacred
ensign disappeared, but, springing forward, the Bishop of Lydda grasped
the Cross and bore it on high. But the battle was lost. The Crescent
of Mecca shone triumphant. Saladin was the victor. The fields of
Lubieh and the hill-sides of Hattîn were covered with the dying and the
dead; Count Raymond, with the remnant of his followers, had fled, and
safely reached ’Akka; while the defeated king, the Grand Master of the
Templars, Raynald of Chatillon, and the Bishop of Lydda, with the Holy
Cross, fell into the hands of the Moslems.
Conducted to the pavilion of Saladin, the distinguished prisoners
were received with the respect due their rank, and with a kindness of
demeanor worthy a great warrior. Glancing at each as the group stood
before him, he seemed to pity their misfortunes, till his eye fell
on Raynald, on whom he bent a look of mingled rage and scorn. Having
ordered sherbet, cooled with ice, to be presented to the king, and the
latter having passed it to Raynald, Saladin said, “Thou givest him to
drink, not I;” which proverbial saying was equivalent to a sentence
of death. Fixing his eye on the doomed count, and reminding him of his
perfidy, he offered him pardon if he would embrace the doctrines of the
Prophet; but, on Raynald refusing to renounce his Christian faith, the
sultan drew his cimeter, and, piercing him through, the guards rushed
upon him and dragged him lifeless from the imperial tent. Guy, with the
captive princes, was sent to Damascus for imprisonment, and 230 knights,
both of the Hospital and the Temple, were beheaded in cold blood and
without mercy. Taking advantage of the destruction of the Christian
army and of the capture of the king, Saladin advanced, and, after
capturing the larger sea-port towns from Ascalon to Beirut, excepting
Tyre, in less than three months from the battle of Hattîn he was master
of all Palestine, and on the 3d of October, 1187, he entered the Holy
City in triumph.[624]
From a scene so ghastly, yet so lovely, we journeyed from the Mount
of Beatitudes to Nazareth. The path mounts the northwestern shoulder
of Hattîn, and descends to the Plain of Lubieh, where, on the summit of
a low hill, is a village of the same name. Passing to the southwest, we
entered a larger and richer plain, opening into El-Buttauf, and forming
one of those fine plateaus which distinguish the mountain scenery of
Galilee. A mile in width, it is a vast field of wheat and corn, and
through its centre runs a noble road, which was thronged with pilgrims.
From its western edge a path leads up to Kefr Kenna, the monkish “Cave
of Galilee.” Reaching the summit of the ridge at sunset, the Carmel
range was overspread with a pink haze, while the castellated heights of
Seffurieh reflected the last rays of the setting sun. Nazareth lay at
our feet, surrounded with its ancient hills, and, descending the steep
declivity, we entered the town amid the deepening shadows of evening,
and were kindly received by the monks of the Latin convent.
It is a fact no less true than remarkable, that Nazareth is without
an authentic history older than the Christian era; and though, at the
time of the occurrence of the great event which has given immortality
to its name, it was a considerable village, it is neither mentioned by
Josephus nor the writers of the Old Testament. That it was known and
generally held in contempt by the people prior to the Annunciation is
evident from the significant question of Nathaniel, “Can there any good
thing come out of Nazareth?”[625] Encompassed by 15 naked hill-tops,
it occupies the western side of an oblong basin, which is a mile long
and a quarter of a mile wide. Here, filling portions of the three
ravines which penetrate the highest of the hills, the town is built.
Constructed of limestone, the buildings are cleaner and neater than
those of any other Syrian village. Out of a population of 4000 souls,
more than three fourths are Christians. Under their enlightened
influence Nazareth is increasing in wealth and numbers, and is now
the capital of the district. As if conscious of their superior numbers,
intelligence, wealth, and piety, the Christians assert and defend
their rights. In nearly all other parts of Palestine the Christians
are cringing and fearful, but the Nazarenes are not afraid either to
measure swords or creeds with the followers of the Prophet. The whole
town wears an aspect of genuine thrift and business prosperity, and the
number of thriving schools, filled with pupils, is the best evidence
of a free and enlightened Christianity. Supported by the Protestant
Mission of Jerusalem, these schools are furnished with all the
appliances requisite to success; and the hundreds of children annually
educated can not fail to change the sentiments of the public, and
heighten the tone of morals and piety in the city of our Lord’s
childhood.
Illustration: NAZARETH.
The chief objects of interest in Nazareth are the legendary sites
connected with the history of the holy family. Strangely enough, the
Greeks and Latins contend for separate and rival localities as the
scene of the Annunciation. In the southeastern portion of the town is
the Latin convent, covering the traditional grotto where Mary stood
when she received the salutation of the angel. The monastery is a
square, heavy building, encompassed by a high stone wall, and is
entered through a massive gate. Along the sides of an interior court
are the school-rooms, the pharmacy, and the apartments of the superior.
The interior of the church is a square of 70 feet, and consists of
a nave and aisles formed by four large piers, on which rests the
vaulted roof. The columns and walls are covered with canvas, painted
in imitation of tapestry, and illustrative of Scripture scenes. Among
the pictures is one representing the marriage of Joseph and Mary, and
another portraying the appearing of the angel to the husband of the
Virgin. A flight of 15 steps leads down to the sacred grotto, which
is 20 feet long, as many wide, and 10 deep. The sides are incased with
marble, and on the altar, which is of the same material, are seven
vases of flowers, and over it are nine silver lamps, which are kept
perpetually burning. Behind the altar is a large and excellent picture
of the Annunciation, a gift of the Emperor of Austria. To the right of
the altar a small door opens into the remaining portion of the grotto,
which has been left in its natural state, and from this apartment a
staircase leads up into a low rude cave, called the “Virgin Mary’s
Kitchen.” This grotto is said to have been beneath the house and home
of Mary.
Not content with the possession of a site so precious, the Franciscan
monks pretend to have rescued from oblivion the “Workshop of Joseph.”
It is a small arched chapel, plain and neat, and, though a modern
structure, is sanctified by a fragment of an old wall, a portion of
the veritable “shop.” Above the altar is a good painting representing
Joseph at work. He is represented as leaning upon the handle of his
axe; the youthful Savior is sitting near him reading from the Prophets,
while Mary occupies a less conspicuous place. Still another picture
adorns the walls of this humble chapel. Joseph is at work at his bench;
Jesus is assisting his father by holding one end of the chalk-line
while the latter is snapping it; and Mary is sitting opposite them,
industriously at work with her needle.
As the rivals of the Latins, the Greeks have identified the site
of the angelic salutation on the eastern side of the town, and
over the “Fountain of the Virgin” have erected their “Church of the
Annunciation.” Without exterior elegance, it is a low structure, with
arched ceiling supported by small square piers. In the east end is an
altar-screen of wood, elaborately carved, on the panels of which are
painted Bible scenes. In the opposite end is a large latticed screen,
separating that portion of the church which is allotted to women from
the main part of the edifice. In the north end is a recess occupied
by the nuns, and over the entrance is a splendid picture of the
Annunciation. Mary is represented as standing by a fountain, modest and
attentive, and of a lovely form; near her is the Angel Gabriel, in the
act of salutation; while above them is the august form of the Divine
Father, with outspread hands, bestowing his gracious benediction.
Near this church, and at the base of a hill, is the outlet of the
sacred fountain, which the Greeks claim to be the veritable spring
to which Mary was accustomed to come for water, and where she was
saluted by the angel. Having its source beneath the church, the water
is conducted to this spot through a stone aqueduct, where, from under
a rude arch, it flows into a marble trough. Though not perennial, yet,
as this is the chief fountain of the city, and as it probably existed
during the residence of the holy family, it was, no doubt, often
visited by the mother of our Lord. The legend that the salutation was
given at a spring is derived from the apocryphal Gospels, especially
the one bearing the name of St. James. Following the example of Mary,
the beautiful maidens of Nazareth resort to this famous fountain not
only for water, but for the more agreeable objects of conversation and
courtship.
Coming from the “Church of the Annunciation” at the hour of vespers,
I witnessed a scene here as novel as it was interesting. From twenty
to thirty maidens were waiting to fill their long earthen pitchers from
the crystal spring. Attired in a style as neat as it was elegant, they
wore close-fitting jackets of different colors, long pointed veils of
perfect whiteness, and head-dresses of silver coins. Their forms were
straight and symmetrical, their features regular and handsome, their
hair full and black, their eyes dark and lustrous, and their complexion
of a soft brunette. Waiting their turn to the fountain, they laughed
and chatted merrily together, and, gracefully poising the pitcher on
head or shoulder, they seemed to regard the labor a delight rather than
a task. Celebrated for their beauty, an old writer ascribes it to the
special favor of Mary.
The only other great event connected with our Lord’s life in Nazareth,
and which could have had “a local habitation and a name,” is his sermon
in the synagogue, and the subsequent attempt of his townsmen to thrust
him from the brow of the hill. Unwilling that any site should perish,
the Latins pretend to have identified the one and the other. That which
is shown as the site of the former may possibly be correct, but the
“inventors of sacred places” have displayed less discrimination in
the selection of the latter than in their choice of other localities.
Selecting it for its precipitous appearance, as it overhangs the Plain
of Esdraelon, the monks have designated a rugged mountain two miles
to the southeast from Nazareth as the “Mount of Precipitation.” But
while the height and steepness of this mountain might have answered
the murderous purpose of the Nazarenes, yet it is too distant to be in
keeping with the letter of the text. With his accustomed minuteness,
St. Luke gives a simple narration of the facts of that premeditated
tragedy: “And all they in the synagogue, when they heard these things,
were filled with wrath, and rose up and thrust him out of the city, and
led him unto the brow of the hill whereupon their city was built, that
they might cast him down headlong.”[626] The lofty hill to the west of
the town corresponds, in its relative location, to that of the city,
and is more in harmony with the inspired narrative. With Nazareth at
its base, covering its lower spurs and creeping up its ravines, it
rises to the height of 500 feet. Its sides are steep and covered with
white limestone rocks, and, though not smooth, it is not sufficiently
uneven to arrest one’s fall. Once started downward by a violent
push, no human power could resist the force or avert the catastrophe.
Desiring to test the difficulty of the descent, I found it impossible
to descend with safety except by placing my feet in the fissures of
the rocks. With a meekness which was the more remarkable because of
its exalted purpose, the Master suffered the infuriated mob to hurry
him through the crowded streets, and up through one of the ravines,
to the brow of the hill, where, by a display of his wondrous power, he
released himself from their grasp, and, “passing through the midst of
them, went his way.”
From the summit of this hill not only is one of the noblest views
in Palestine obtained, but it is the best place for pious reflection.
Reaching the highest point in half an hour, we found thereon the ruined
wely of Neby Isma’il, and around it were growing the beautiful amaranth
and other kinds of Syrian flowers. The wind blew strongly from the sea,
which, together with a hazy sky, lessened the enjoyment of the hour;
but the wide and glorious prospect was before us. There was Tabor, with
its oaken groves; the “Mountains of Gilead,” with the brown plateau
of Pella; the Plain of Esdraelon, with its graceful undulations and
memorable cities; the Hills of Samaria, green and rolling; the long
range of Carmel, crowned with its wealthy convent, and casting its deep
shadow into the Bay of Haifa, where the navies of Europe were riding
at anchor; the Plain of ’Akka, where “Asher dipped his foot in oil, and
yielded royal dainties;” the wide sea, “dotted with many a sail;” the
intervening hills, all wooded and sinking down in gentle slopes into
winding valleys of the richest verdure; the Plain of El-Buttauf, and
the Crusaders’ Castle of Seffurieh; the long ridges of the Galilean
Hills running up toward Safed, “the city set upon a hill;” and rising
above them all in grandeur was Hermon, with its mighty dome of snowy
whiteness sparkling in the sun like a crown of glory.
Contracting the scope of the vision, the wandering eye returned and
rested on the immortal village, quietly nestling at the mountain’s base.
It is Nazareth! How the sacred associations throng the mind! How the
imagination is tempted to picture scenes which must have occurred, but
which are not recorded! The theme is too divine for fancy. The same
infinite wisdom is displayed in what is not written as is manifested in
what is recorded. Lift not the veil that the Father has drawn over the
thirty years of seclusion of his Son, nor attempt to be wise above that
which is written. It is enough that in this mountain village lived Mary
and Joseph; that here they loved and were betrothed; that by its spring,
or in its fields, or in her quiet home, ere came the marriage-day,
“Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth, to a
virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David;
and the virgin’s name was Mary. And the angel came in unto her and said
Hail! thou art highly favored; the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou
among women;” that twice after the annunciation Mary ascended from her
native vale, and, crossing these same hills, she journeyed southward
into Judea――once to visit her cousin Elizabeth, and again to give a
Savior to the world; and that, after the presentation in the Temple,
hither the holy family returned to the duties and enjoyments of private
life.[627] With one solitary allusion, the silence of thirty years
remains unbroken as to the life of Jesus prior to his public ministry.
Subject to his parents, here he resided, treading these streets,
wandering over these hills, and from this commanding summit beholding
the same panorama which now is before us. The imagination pictures
his childhood as lovely, his youth retiring and meditative, his
manhood studious, youthful, and devout. Here were spent the years of
preparation, and from a city without a history he went forth on the
most benevolent mission that ever fell to the lot of man――to teach
the sublimest truths, to illustrate the purest character, to die as no
other man could die, and to establish a kingdom of righteousness, truth,
and peace. Only twice is he known to have returned to the “city where
he had been brought up;” once when rejected by his townsmen,[628] and
again when he was met with the taunt, “Is not this the carpenter, the
son of Mary, the brother of James, and Joses, and of Simon, and Judas?
and are not his sisters with us?”[629] Unable to do many “mighty works
there because of their unbelief,” he abandoned Nazareth forever, and,
choosing Capernaum as his “adopted city,” he was received with joy by
the delighted people.[630]