looking eastward, we have immediately behind us the range of mountains
and table-land, which stretching westward, as far as the plains of
Sharon, formed the territory of Judah and Benjamin. Before us is the
plain of the Jordan here at its widest. The long wall-like chain of the
mountains of Moab bounds the view on the east. Numerous ravines, each of
which is memorable in the wars of the Israelites, intersect the range.
The vast plains which stretch northward and eastward afford splendid
grazing ground, now as of yore, when the flocks and herds of the
Midianites wandered over them, when “Gilead was a place for cattle” and
the “oaks,” “the rams,” and “the bulls of Bashan” were symbols of
agricultural and pastoral wealth.[116]
Looking across the valley, attention is arrested by the numerous conical
hills rising from the flat table-land which is supported by the mountain
chain. Many of these attain considerable height, not only from the plain
below, but from the plateau on which they rest. Of these, one holds a
conspicuous place in early Hebrew history. Balak, king of Moab, alarmed
at the rapid and irresistible progress of the children of Israel, and
despairing of checking their advance, sends across the Euphrates to
bring thence the seer whose incantations may seduce or overcome the
mighty God who had given them the victory. He knew not that—
“God is not a man that He should lie;
Neither the son of man that He should repent:
Hath He said, and shall He not do it?
Or hath He spoken, and shall He not make it good ...
Surely there is no enchantment against Jacob,
Neither is there any divination against Israel.”
He had brought the seer to the top of Pisgah, whence he might command a
view of the encampment of Israel in the plain below and of the whole
promised land. Vain are all sacrificial rites, all magical arts, all
offers of wealth and power. He who was brought to curse can only bless,
“And Balaam rose up and went to his place: and Balak also went his
way.”[117]
Yet again we find Israel encamped in the plains of Moab, on the eastern
bank of the Jordan. Their forty years’ wanderings are ended. They are
now to go in and possess the good land. But their heroic leader is not
to go before them. Though “a hundred and twenty years old, his eye was
not dim, nor his natural force abated.”[118] He might, therefore, have
looked forward to a further period of active service; at least he might
have hoped to reap with his own hand the harvest for which he had toiled
and waited so many weary years. But it was not to be. He must climb “the
mountain of Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, that is over against
Jericho”—the very height upon which Balaam had stood. There “the Lord
showed him all the land of Gilead, unto Dan, and all Naphtali, and the
land of Ephraim and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah, unto the utmost
sea, and the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of
palm trees, unto Zoar.”[119] Ignorance of the topography of Palestine
has led many to conclude that this extended vision was physically
impossible, to be accounted for only by miracle; or by the deniers of
miracles, to be rejected as mythical and legendary. So far is this from
being the case, that modern travellers, who have been permitted to
“Stand where Moses stood,
And view the landscape o’er,”
have described the scene in words which only fill up the outline of the
inspired narrative. The whole extent of Palestine lies stretched out
like a map from the snowy summit of Hermon on the north, to the
Mediterranean on the west, and the granite peaks of Arabia on the south.
Innumerable legends have gathered about the death of Moses on Nebo. The
Talmud abounds with them. Josephus rises to true pathos and poetry as he
describes its traditionary incidents. The Mohammedans have wild weird
myths of the war which raged amongst the spirits of good and evil around
his dying form, and they perform pilgrimages to his legendary tomb on
the mountain just above Jericho. All we know is that “Moses the servant
of the Lord died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the
Lord. And He buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against
Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.”[120] Even
in Palestine itself there are few spots upon which the eye rests with a
deeper sense of awe, and mystery, and reverential wonder than as we look
across the Ghor of the Jordan and gaze upon this peak, glowing in the
light of the setting sun, where the prophet of the Lord breathed his
last earthly sigh, and awoke in the presence of his God.
As soon as the days of mourning for their great leader had been
accomplished, his chivalrous successor set the host in motion. Passing,
probably, down the Wady Hesban, they encamped in the valley of the
Jordan. To cross the river in the presence of their enemies would at any
time have been a difficult and dangerous operation. The fords were few,
the river rapid, the banks steep. And Jordan was now in flood. It had
filled up its banks and was absolutely impassable. Confiding, however,
in divine aid, the signal to advance is given. The priests march first,
bearing with them the ark. A mile in their rear are the tribes of
Reuben, Gad, and half the tribe of Manasseh fully armed, so as to resist
any attack made upon them by their foes.[121] No sooner had the feet of
the priests touched the brimming waters of the river, than the stream
ceased to flow downward, being cut off at a point nearly thirty miles
above, at the city of Zaretan, leaving the bed dry till the whole people
had passed safely over. We are told, respecting the similar miracle of
the crossing of the Red Sea, that “the Lord caused the sea to go back by
a strong east wind all that night.”[122] The enquiry suggests itself
whether any natural agency, working under the control of a divine power
can be suggested to account for this drying up of the Jordan. It has
been already remarked that the whole region is volcanic and subject to
earthquakes. It is, therefore, a possible conjecture that such a
convulsion of nature may have occurred at this critical moment, so that
for a time the bed of the Jordan was laid bare “from the city of Adam,
that is beside Zaretan.”[123] We need not, however, feel any anxiety to
explain these divine interpositions by the action of natural laws. He
who instituted the laws of nature and uses them for His purposes as He
pleases, can, when it seems good to Him, dispense with them altogether.
The fact of the miracle is certain, account for it how we please: “this
is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes.”
The siege of Jericho speedily followed. The same divine power which
dried up the bed of the river (perhaps working through the same natural
agency) caused the walls of the city to “fall down after they were
compassed about seven days;” and Rahab, who had “received the spies with
peace,” was spared to be enrolled amongst the chosen people, and even in
the ancestry of our Lord, as the reward of her faith.[124]
Whilst still encamped near Jericho, Joshua undertook two important
military exploits. One has been already described—the relief of the city
of Gibeon and the defeat of the Amorites in the valley of Ajalon. The
other has yet to be spoken of. In the mountain range which rises
immediately to the west of the Jordan valley, are several passes which
run up into the interior of the country. At the head of one of these
stood the city of Ai, near to Bethel. It was an important stronghold,
and its acquisition by the Israelites would secure them a firm and
commanding position in central Palestine. A small detachment of men was
therefore ordered to advance up the pass and attack the city, whilst the
main body remained at Jericho. They were, however, defeated with great
slaughter by the men of Ai and had to retreat down the steep defile. The
sin of Achan having been detected and punished, a new assault was
ordered by divine command, which proved successful.[125] The acquisition
of this almost impregnable post made Joshua master of the whole of
Southern Palestine, to the subjugation of which he could now proceed at
leisure.
It was along the same pass that, in after years, Elijah and Elisha went
up from Gilgal to Bethel and again returned to Jericho. Then crossing
the plain, they proceeded to the Jordan, whilst “fifty men of the sons
of the prophets” climbed the mountains in the rear, which command a view
of the whole region, and “stood to view afar off.” At the place where
the children of Israel had crossed the river under Joshua, the prophet
took off his mantle, and smiting the waters they again parted, so that
“they two went over on dry ground.” Here, perhaps, on the very spot
where Moses had died and was buried, Elijah “went up by a whirlwind to
heaven.” The two, who were thus mysteriously associated in their
departure from earth, were to return to it together, and on the Mount of
Transfiguration, to speak with their Lord and ours, “of the decease
which He should accomplish at Jerusalem.”[126]
Yet once again was the Jordan to be miraculously parted asunder at the
same place. Elisha, returning to Jericho, smote the waters with the
mantle of Elijah, and invoking “the Lord God of Elijah, the waters
parted hither and thither, and Elisha went over.”[127]
Reference has been made to the perennial fountains which rise around the
site of Jericho. Most of the springs in the lower part of the Ghor are
either brackish, or absolutely undrinkable. From their salt and acrid
character they cause barrenness rather than fertility.[128] But there is
one at the foot of the mounds which attracts attention from the purity,
sweetness and abundance of its waters. It bears to this day the name of
ELISHA’S FOUNTAIN, and is doubtless the one of which the historian
speaks as having been healed by the word of Elisha speaking in the name
of the Lord, “so the waters were healed unto this day, according to the
saying of Elisha which he spake.”[129]
[Illustration: ELISHA’S FOUNTAIN, NEAR JERICHO.]
Whilst we have no precise indication of the scene of our Lord’s baptism
yet a balance of probabilities seems to confirm the accuracy of the
tradition that it was here, where the river had been thrice divided by
miracle, that the event took place. John had been preaching in the
wilderness of Judea which is just behind us. It was apparently in the
same neighbourhood that he baptized the multitudes who came to him. And
it was in immediate connection with his baptism that “Jesus being full
of the Holy Ghost returned from the Jordan and was led by the spirit
into the wilderness, being forty days tempted of the devil.” Though the
MONS QUARANTANIA, which rises immediately above Jericho, has only a
vague tradition to associate it with the “forty days’” fast, yet it
meets all the requirements of the narrative, and its savage desolate
solitude is in keeping with the spirit of the event.
Once only do we read that our Lord actually visited Jericho. He had
crossed the Jordan and preached “on the further side.”[130] Recrossing
the river, either by the fords or by the Roman bridge some distance up
the stream on his way to Jerusalem, He passed through Jericho. The new
city rebuilt by Herod, was now in the height of its splendour. Josephus
describes the country round as surpassingly beautiful and fertile.
Groves of palms and balsam-trees stretched far and wide. The roads
leading to and from the city were shaded by sycamores. Having healed the
blind man who sat by the wayside begging, He conferred a yet diviner
boon upon Zaccheus, who in his eagerness to see the Lord had climbed
into one of the wayside trees. Amidst the reproachful murmurs of the
people, He went to be the guest of a man that was a sinner, bringing
salvation to his house, “for the Son of man is come to seek and save
that which was lost.... And when He had thus spoken He went before,
ascending up to Jerusalem.”[131]
Thither let us follow Him.
The road at first winds amongst the mounds of débris, so often referred
to, past ruined aqueducts and water courses which in the time of our
Lord conveyed the fertilizing streams to irrigate the plain. The
mountains above us are honey-combed by cells of hermits, who came here
to live useless ascetic lives, where our Lord had fasted, prayed, and
been tempted of the devil. Soon we begin to ascend and find ourselves
skirting the edge of a savage ravine which plunges sheer down to a depth
of five hundred feet. It is the Wady Kelt—once known as the valley of
the CHERITH, where the prophet Elijah was fed by ravens,[132] and, in
still earlier times, as the valley of Achor in which Achan was
stoned.[133]
[Illustration:
_Lent by the Palestine Exploration Fund._
BATHING-PLACE OF PILGRIMS ON THE JORDAN
]
The ascent is continuous and steep. In a distance of about fifteen miles
we rise more than three thousand feet. Hence the constant phrases “going
_up_ to Jerusalem,” “going _down_ to Jericho.” On every side are steep
mountains and wild glens, the haunt of plundering Bedouins, so that a
strong and vigilant escort is needful.
About midway on our journey, we pass the ruins of an ancient khan. In
accordance with oriental custom, noticed before, by which khans seldom
or never change, but occupy the same spot from age to age, a halting
place for travellers has stood here from immemorial antiquity. This then
is the inn to which our Lord referred in his parable of the Good
Samaritan. The road then, as now, was notorious for its insecurity.
Reading on the spot the narrative of the traveller, who going down from
Jerusalem to Jericho, was stripped, wounded, and left for dead on the
road-side, every incident and detail acquired new significance and
appropriateness.
From this point the wild weird desolation of the earlier part of our
journey ceased, and gave place to the rounded featureless hills which
characterise the scenery of Southern Palestine. About midday we reached
the Ain el Haud, or “The Apostle’s Fountain,” and halted awhile. Before
us rose a steep ascent up which wound a rough mountain road. It was the
Mount of Olives. Reaching the summit we should look down upon Jerusalem!
[Illustration: RUINED AQUEDUCT NEAR JERICHO.]
I proposed to one or two of our party that we should walk on alone, so
as to indulge, without restraint, in the emotions which such a view
would excite. The proposal was heartily agreed to, and we started. The
day had been showery, and, though not actually raining at the moment,
the clouds were black and heavy. Scarcely had we commenced the ascent
when the rain began to fall in torrents. The stiff, tenacious mud, and
the slippery sheets of rock over which the track led, made the walk very
difficult; but still we persevered. Soon a miserable, ruinous,
poverty-stricken hamlet came in view, standing on a plateau of rock in a
slight depression on the hill-side. The pasturage around it was good and
abundant, and the olive groves ought to have been a source of wealth to
the inhabitants. Under a better system of government, and with a more
industrious population, it might have been a bright and prosperous
village; but now its only attraction consists in its hallowed
associations. It is Bethany—the home of Martha and Mary and Lazarus—the
one spot on earth where He who “had not where to lay his head” found a
loving welcome and a peaceful home. It has always seemed to me to be not
without meaning that our Lord, on his Ascension, “led his disciples out
as far as to Bethany,” so that the last spot his eyes looked upon, and
his feet pressed before He left the earth which rejected Him should be
the one in which He had been a loved and honoured guest.
The old name of Bethany has disappeared, together with the palm-trees,
which once were in such profusion as to win for it this distinctive
epithet.[134] The memory of the raising of Lazarus has lived so vividly
in Arab legend, that the name El-’Azirîyeh has supplanted the earlier
and biblical one.
Of course traditional sites are pointed out for all the events of the
biblical narrative. The houses of Simon and of Martha and the grave of
Lazarus are shown. The former may be dismissed without a glance or
thought. They are evidently modern erections, certainly not earlier than
the Saracenic period, and probably much more recent. But the tomb of
Lazarus may be authentic. The masonry, indeed, is modern, but the
sepulchre itself, a deep recess cut into the rock, is apparently
ancient, and, so far as I could judge, was originally a tomb. It is
entered by a narrow passage, with twenty-five steps, leading to a
_cubiculum_. The tradition which identifies it with “the cave,” in which
the “friend,” whom “Jesus loved” was buried, has a respectable
antiquity, going back, at least, to the time of Arculf (A.D. 700).
Whether this be the exact spot or not, we know that very near where we
stand the memorable words were uttered: “I am the Resurrection and the
Life: he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he
live.”[135]
Escaping from the rabble of Arabs clamouring for backshish, we resumed
our journey. The rain had ceased, and a few breaks in the clouds
encouraged a hope that we might gain a view of the city not utterly
disappointing. But we were quite unprepared for the view which awaited
us on reaching the summit of Olivet. Seen under any circumstances, it is
one never to be forgotten. The deep ravine of the Kedron below us—the
city on the opposite hill, with its grey venerable walls, its broad
marble platform, in the centre of which stands the exquisite dome of the
mosque of Omar—the picturesque mass of cupolas and minarets standing out
against the sky—the surrounding valleys and hills dotted with villages
and ruined towers and olive groves—need no aid from the associations of
the spot to make it a most striking view. But when we add those
associations—so sacred, so tender, so sublime—it is not to be wondered
at that every visitor feels himself at a loss to express the emotions
which it awakens.
[Illustration:
_From a Sketch by Capt. Maian._
BETHANY.
]
Nothing, however, which I had heard or read had prepared me for the
view which broke upon us as we ascended the minaret on the summit of
Olivet. The vast marble platform of the Temple, the dome of the
mosque, the roofs of El-Aksa, the innumerable cupolas and flat roofs
of the city, were all running with water from the heavy rain. Through
rifts in the clouds long slanting beams of sunlight fell upon them
with a dazzling splendour. The city flashed and shone like molten
silver. All the meanness and squalor of its degradation was lost in
the radiance which veiled it. The storm-clouds had drifted away
eastward, and settled dark and heavy over the valley of the Dead Sea,
blotting it out from view by their gloomy mass. Above the line of
clouds rose the mountains of Moab, purple in the light of the
descending sun. Only one more touch of beauty, only one more
suggestion of hallowed thought, was possible. This was furnished by a
rainbow—symbol of Divine mercy and compassion—spanning the storm-cloud
which hung above the valley of Sodom. On the one side was the city of
God, radiant in the “clear shining after rain;” on the other the city
of destruction, veiled in darkness and gloom, yet not utterly
abandoned by our gracious and covenant-keeping God.
[Illustration: CHURCH ON THE SUMMIT OF THE MOUNT OF OLIVES.]
Impressive as is the view which bursts upon us from the summit of the
Mount of Olives, even now that Jerusalem lies in its misery and
degradation, it must have been far grander when our Lord, on his way
from Bethany, standing upon this very spot beheld the city and wept over
it, saying, “If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day,
the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine
eyes.”[136] The valley at our feet was at least sixty feet deeper then
than it is at present. The accumulation of débris, the result of
repeated sieges, has not only filled it up to that extent, but has
choked up the bed of the Kedron, so that it has either ceased to flow
altogether, or only trickles almost imperceptibly amongst the stones.
The trees which once clothed the hills and the gardens which lay along
the banks of the stream have disappeared. The face of the rock upon
which the Temple stands, then went down almost precipitously, so that,
as Josephus tells us, the spectator, standing upon the walls, grew dizzy
as he looked into the ravine below him. Now mounds of rubbish, through
which Captain Warren sank a shaft to the depth of a hundred feet before
he reached the virgin soil, rest against the rock and rise almost to the
foot of the walls. The Temple itself was a marvel of splendour and
beauty. Built of costly marbles, overlaid with gold, and adorned with
jewels, it shone resplendently when the light of the rising or the
setting sun fell upon it, as though another sun was setting or rising.
Of all this magnificence, nothing remains save the vast marble platform
upon which it stood. Well might the disciples listen with reluctance or
incredulity as our Lord foretold the impending destruction of a city
“beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth.”
Slowly we descended from the summit, lingering at many points to recall
the hallowed associations of the scene, or turning aside to gain some
fresh point of view. We remembered not only that our Lord had often
trodden these very paths in his journey between Bethany and Jerusalem,
or gone out to spend the night upon the Mount of Olives, “as he was
wont,”[137] but that David, in his flight from the city “went up by the
ascent of Mount Olivet and wept as he went up, and had his head covered,
and he went barefoot: and all the people that was with him covered every
man his head, and they went up, weeping as they went up.”[138]
[Illustration: ST. STEPHEN’S GATE.]
Passing the Garden of Gethsemane, and crossing the Kedron, we entered by
St. Stephen’s Gate. Skirting the Temple area, traversing the length of
the Via Dolorosa, slipping on the slimy stones or plunging ankle deep
into the mud of the wretched streets, we emerged at the Jaffa Gate and
found our camp pitched on the edge of the Valley of Hinnom.
[Illustration: Head-Piece—Church of the Holy Sepulchre]
JERUSALEM.
“OUR feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem.”[139] Drawn by an
irresistible attraction, pilgrims flock hither from the very ends of the
earth. The crumbling walls, the squalid filthy streets, the mouldering
ruins, are regarded with a profound and reverential interest by millions
of mankind, such as no other spot on earth can excite. To the Jew it is
the centre alike of his patriotism and his religion. The Christian
remembers that here the Son of God was crucified for the sins of the
world. The Mohammedan, retaining in a mutilated and distorted form, the
great facts of Jewish and of Christian scripture, and adding to them the
legends of his own prophet, regards Jerusalem as second, and hardly
second, in sanctity to Mecca itself. Nowhere else are the
representatives of such various nationalities to be found as in this
meeting-place of the three great monotheistic faiths which have spread
so widely over the habitable globe. Jews who have travelled on foot from
Poland or Morocco, may be seen weeping outside the temple walls. Greeks,
Latins, Armenians, Copts, kneel side by side with worshippers from
America, from Australia, and from every nation in Europe. Nubians,
Hindoos, Affghans, Persians, Tartars, Arabs, prostrate themselves before
the sacred rock from whence their prophet commenced his fabled journey
to heaven, or gaze with awe on the spot to which he will, as they
believe, return to judge the world.
[Illustration: TOMB OF ABSALOM.]
[Illustration: PLAN OF JERUSALEM, FROM THE ORDNANCE SURVEY.]