BEYOND THE JORDAN.
Plain of Moab—Children of Israel—Moses’s Request—Moab a Rich
Country—Lawless Clans—A Traveler Brutally Murdered—A Typical Son of
Ishmael—Dens and Strongholds—Captured by a Clan of Arabs—Shut up in
Mountain Caves—Heavy Ransom Exacted—The Moabite Stone—Confirmation
of Scripture—Machaerus—John the Baptist—Prison Chambers—Character
of John—How to Gauge a Life—Hot-Springs—Herod’s Visit—“Smell of
Blood still”—Mount Nebo—Fine View—Life of Moses—From Egypt to
Nebo—An Arab Legend—Death of Moses.
THE Plain of Moab, east of the Jordan, is, in character of soil and
state of cultivation, very much like the Jericho plain described in
the last chapter. The Plain of Moab is bounded on the east, as before
stated, by a wall of rock which lifts itself up at some places almost
perpendicularly, several hundred feet above the valley. From the top of
this mountain ridge there stretches far away toward the east, a broad,
elevated table-land, sloping gently as it recedes. This table-land is
traversed here and there by deep wadys and narrow ravines, most of
which have a general westwardly, direction, and empty their waters into
the Jordan and Dead Sea. This goodly land of Moab is about fifty miles
long by twenty broad, and this rolling plateau, though 3,200 feet above
the sea level, is remarkably rich and well watered. The country only
needs a wise head and an energetic hand to make these plains once more
blossom as the rose.
In order to enter the promised land, it was necessary for the
Israelites to pass through this delightful region of country.
Accordingly Moses “sent messengers unto Sihon, King of the Amorites,
saying, Let me pass through thy land: we will not turn into the fields,
or into the vineyards; we will not drink of the waters of the well: but
we will go along by the king’s highway, until we be past thy borders.”
A reasonable request this; but instead of granting it, “Sihon gathered
all his people together” and went out to fight against Israel; went
out to meet Moses and—death! Having routed the foe and possessed the
land, Israel marched into Heshbon, the imperial city. Heshbon, now
called Hasban, is situated among the hills of Moab, a little to the
north, and about eight miles to the east, of the Dead Sea. The ancient
city, as the present ruins clearly show, was situated on two high hills
some distance apart, east and west from each other, and on the saddle
connecting the two.
The inhabitants of this fair land ought to be gentlemen living like
kings and princes. But instead of that they are separate, independent,
and lawless clans or tribes of Arabs who live now, as in ancient times,
not altogether, but chiefly, on plunder and the spoils of war. These
clans east of the Jordan are now, and have always been, a curse to
Palestine. Frequently at night they swoop down like eagles upon the
inhabitants west of the river, rob them of their grain, and drive away
their camels, their flocks and herds. This practice frequently becomes
so common that the government is forced to protect the people by
keeping an armed body of soldiers along the river.
Lest the reader should think me unduly prejudiced against these sons
of the desert, I here introduce a quotation from the “Desert of the
Exodus.” Be it remembered that this splendid work was written by Prof.
E. H. Palmer, a member of the faculty of Cambridge University, England.
Perhaps no man has lived during the present generation who knew more
than he about Arab life and character. The fact that Prof. Palmer was
afterwards brutally murdered by these people shows that his estimate of
their character was correct and just. He says: “Robbery is not regarded
by the Bedawin as in the least a disgraceful thing, but ‘a man taketh
his sword, and goeth his way to rob and steal’ (Esdras IV., 23), with
a profound feeling of conscious rectitude and respectability. Several
plans have been tried, from time to time, to make him a respectable
member of society, but have signally failed; missionaries have gone to
him, and, so long as they could supply him with tobacco and keep open
tent for all comers, have found him sufficiently tractable. But they
have made absolutely no impression upon him, after all. Indeed, the
state of desert society has but little changed since the messenger
came in to the tent of Job, and said: ‘The Chaldeans made out three
bands, and fell upon the camels, and have carried them away, yea, and
slain the servants with the edge of the sword’” (Job I., 17).
“Agriculture might be made a means of improving the condition of the
Arabs; indeed, the only other method of attaining this end would be
to civilize them off the face of the earth altogether. By Arab I mean
the Bedawi, the typical son of Ishmael, ‘whose hand is against every
man,’ and who is as much hated and feared in the towns and villages
of Central Arabia as in Palestine. Wherever he goes, he brings with
him ruin, violence, and neglect. To call him a ‘son of the desert’
is a misnomer; half the desert owes its existence to him, and many
a fertile plain from which he has driven its useful and industrious
inhabitants becomes in his hands, like the ‘South Country,’ a parched
and barren wilderness. He has a constitutional dislike to work, and
is entirely unscrupulous as to the means he employs to live without
it; these qualities (which also adorn and make the thief and burglar
of civilization) he mistakes for evidences of thorough breeding, and
prides himself accordingly upon being one of Nature’s gentlemen.” (pp.
240, 241, 243).
There are so many dens and caves and strongholds in the mountains of
Moab that it would be next to impossible for the government to rid
herself of these Arab clans. I am told that now, and for many years
past, the most powerful of all these lawless tribes is the one called
Beni Sukrh, whose head quarters are the famous city and fortress of
Kerak. This stronghold is situated on the banks and near the mouth of
the river Arnon, which empties into the Dead Sea on the west side,
and about fifteen miles from its north end. This clan some years ago
captured Canon Tristram and party, and exacted from them a large sum
of money as a ransom. In his “Land of Moab” Tristram has given a
peculiarly striking description of the fortress Kerak, in which he,
himself, was prisoner. It is built on an isolated rock which rises
high in the air, and whose level summit is surrounded on all sides but
the eastern by chasms from 800 to 1,000 feet deep, and 100 feet wide,
with perpendicular sides. A well-built wall surrounds the brow of the
precipice on all sides, and the only two places of entrance are through
arches tunneled in the solid rock from the side of the precipice to the
level within. These narrow and well-guarded entrances are approached
by rock-hewn paths, barely wide enough for men or asses to walk on in
single file. This is one of the most impregnable strongholds on earth.
Gibraltar is not to be compared with it. In this citadel one could
safely say:
“I will not be afraid of death and bane
Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.”
This is the Kir-Hareseth of Scripture, and here it was that Mesha,
King of Moab, took refuge after his army was destroyed by the combined
forces of Israel, Judah, and Edom. These three kings cut Mesha’s army
to pieces, but they knew it was folly to besiege his castle. Coming to
this, they gave up in despair and went home. After their departure,
Mesha, filled with gratitude for the safety that this fortress afforded
him, “took his eldest son, that should have reigned in his stead, and
offered him for a burnt offering upon the wall.”
Probably it would be well in this connection to mention a celebrated
stone that I saw in a museum in Paris. Do you ask, “Why introduce that
stone here?” Because this is the proper place to introduce it. It is
the famous Moabite Stone that was found among the ruins of Dhiban not
many miles from this place. Dhiban (the Dibon of Scripture), situated
on two hills, is now only a ruined village, although the numerous
traces of buildings existing in the community indicate that it was
once a flourishing town. In 1868 Rev. F. A. Klein, a missionary of the
English church, while digging amid the rubbish of Dhiban, made the
fortunate discovery. This basaltic rock, two by three feet in size,
with one side covered by a Moabite inscription, has a strange history
and tells a wonderful tale.
When the stone was discovered a great ado was made over it. The
Prussian government sought and obtained permission to remove it. The
Bedouin tribe in whose territory it was found was offered an enormous
sum of money to part with it. Indeed, the amount offered was so great
that the Arabs thought the stone must be of untold value. The news
spread. Another tribe near by, hearing of the new-found stone and
the great price offered for it, marched over and claimed it as their
own. As about the “Slave Stone,” a quarrel and a war ensued between
the tribes, during which many men were slaughtered on both sides. The
Stone was broken, but afterwards the pieces were put together, and the
inscription was translated.
“The inscription,” says Prof. Palmer, “commemorates the reign of a
certain Mesha, King of Moab, and records the triumphs obtained by
him over Israel in the course of a long and sanguinary struggle. It
begins by setting forth his name and titles, and briefly recounts
his successful effort to throw off the yoke of the King of Israel;
then follows a list of bloody battles fought, of towns wrested from
the enemy, and of spoil and captives fallen into his hands. For
these conquests he returns solemn thanks to Chemosh, his god—‘the
abomination of Moab’—and glories with a religious fervor, that sounds
strangely to our ears, in having despoiled the sanctuary of Jehovah.”
The inscription concludes by setting forth the names of towns rebuilt
or fortified by the Moabite king, of altars raised to Chemosh, of
wells and cisterns dug, and other peaceful work accomplished. This
portion of the record is a most valuable addition to our knowledge
of sacred geography; for the names, as given on the Moabite Stone,
engraved by one who knew them in his daily life, are, in nearly every
case, absolutely identical with those found in the Bible itself and
testify to the wonderful integrity with which the Scriptures have been
preserved. So far we have the history of King Mesha’s rebellion from
his own Moabite point of view, and so far we read of nothing but his
success; but, if we turn to 2 Kings III: 5-27, we may look upon the
other side of the picture. In that passage we have a concise but vivid
account of the rebellion and temporary successes against Israel of this
same monarch. There we learn how the allied kings of Israel, Judah
and Edom, went against the rebellious prince; how they marched by way
of Edom, that is, round by the southern end of the Dead Sea; how they
devastated the land of Moab, and drove their foeman to take refuge in
his fortress of Kir-Haraseth, in Wady Kerak. The passage referred to
above speaks of the author of the Dhiban inscription in the following
terms:
“And Mesha, King of Moab, was a sheep-master, and rendered unto the
King of Israel an hundred thousand lambs and an hundred thousand
rams with wool.” (2 Kings III: 4). Here, again, the Bible receives
fresh confirmation from geographical facts; Moab, with its extensive
grass-covered uplands, is even now an essentially sheepbreeding
country, although the “fenced cities and folds for sheep,” of which
mention is made in the Book of Numbers (XXXII: 36), are all in ruins.
But in its palmier days, when those rich pastures were covered with
flocks, no more appropriate title could have been given to the king of
such a country than that he “was a sheep-master.”
In this same mountainous region, about six miles north of Kerak, near
the head of a deep wady which empties into the Dead Sea, is situated
Machaerus, where the head-man’s ax ended the earthly life of John
the Baptist, the forerunner of Christ. Machaerus, like Kerak, is a
natural fortress—one of Nature’s strongholds. Josephus describes it
as follows: “The nature of the place was very capable of affording the
surest hopes of safety to those that possessed it, as well as delay and
fear to those that should attack it; for what was walled in was itself
a very rocky hill, elevated to a very great height, which circumstance
alone made it very hard to be subdued. It was also so contrived by
nature that it could not be easily ascended; for it is, as it were,
ditched about with such valleys on all sides, and to such a depth,
that the eye can not reach their bottoms, and such as are not easily
to be passed over, and even such as it is impossible to fill up with
earth. For that valley which cuts it on the west extends to three score
furlongs; on the same side it was also that Machaerus had the tallest
top of its hill elevated above the rest. But then for the valleys
that lay on the north and south sides, although they be not so large
as that already described, yet it is in like manner an impracticable
thing to think of getting over them; and for the valley that lies on
the east side, its depth is found to be no less than a hundred cubits.
It extends as far as a mountain that lies over against Machaerus, with
which it is bounded. Herod built a wall round on top of the hill, and
erected towers at the corners a hundred and sixty cubits high; in the
middle of which place he built a palace, after a magnificent manner,
wherein were large and beautiful edifices. He also made a great many
reservoirs for the reception of water, that there might be plenty of it
ready for all uses” (Wars VI: 1-2).
Inside of this impregnable fortress, the traveler of to-day finds two
prison chambers cut in the solid rock. These rock-hewn dungeons once
echoed the tread, and resounded with the songs and prayers, of that
strong-charactered and iron-willed man of God who came to prepare the
way of the Lord—to make His paths straight! It makes one shudder to
stand here amidst the solemn grandeur of these storm-beaten rocks,
and contemplate the tragic history of this great man. A great man?
Yes. It was John the Baptist who first had the courage to stand before
his fellow-countrymen, and, looking them squarely in the face, say:
“Repent ye; for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” With stentorian
voice he cried: “O, generation of vipers;” “the ax is laid at the root
of the tree;” “God is able of these stones to raise up children unto
Abraham.” “He that cometh after me shall baptize you with fire, He will
thoroughly purge His floor and will burn up the chaff with unquenchable
fire.” It was John the Baptist who buried Christ the Lord in yonder
rolling river. It was John the Baptist who pointed to Him and said:
“Behold, the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.”
I thank God for the life and character of John the Baptist who,
after all the honors heaped upon him, could say, I am nobody—I am
simply the _voice_ of One crying in the wilderness. He that cometh
after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear. He
must _increase_ but I must _decrease_. Yes, John said that he was
nobody—that he was only a _voice_, and yet Jesus says: “Among those
born of women there hath not arisen a greater than John the Baptist.”
Oh, to be _nobody_! Oh, to be only the _voice of Jesus_, calling
men unto righteousness, and warning them to flee the wrath to come!
Oh, that the writer and the reader of this chapter may “rise upon
the stepping-stones of their dead selves to higher things!” O, God,
graciously grant, I pray thee, that both writer and reader may realize
that the _magnitude of any life is to be determined by the distance of
self from the centre_!
In the same chasm with Machaerus, and not far away, there is a group of
ten hot springs bursting forth from the side of the wady one hundred
feet or more from its rocky bed. Although in close proximity to each
other these springs vary in temperature from 130 to 142 degrees.
According to Josephus, some of these fountains are bitter and others
sweet. The waters are said to possess great medicinal properties and
healing virtues. The maimed, the halt, and the blind resort hither in
search of health. While living at Jericho, just before his death, Herod
the Great, according to Josephus, came to these springs hoping to drown
his disease. But the wicked, adulterous, murderous Herod was not so
sick, I trow,
“As he was troubled with thick-coming fancies
That kept him from his rest.”
Herod was a murderer; and wash his guilt away he never could. He might
wash, and wash and wash, and cry: “Out, out damned spot!” But there was
the “smell of blood still.” He might have said as Macbeth afterwards
did:
“Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.”
North of Machaerus, and not far from Heshbon, is Mt. Nebo from which
Moses viewed the land of promise, and upon which, also, he breathed
his last. This peak, as one would naturally suppose, commands a fine
view of the surrounding country. For twenty miles to the south and
southeast, one’s eyes sweep over an elevated table-land of unusual
richness and beauty. The range of vision toward the rising sun extends
to where the blue sky and the sandy desert meet. Looking westward one
sees the valley of the Jordan, and traces the wanderings of the river
from the Sea of Galilee to the Dead Sea. Beyond the Jordan is the land
of “milk and honey” that Moses was never allowed to enter. Moses came
up hither from the plain of Moab, and the Lord showed him the country
and said unto him, “This is the land which I sware unto Abraham, unto
Isaac, and unto Jacob saying, I will give it unto thy seed: I have
caused thee to see it with thine eyes, but thou shalt not go over
thither. So 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. And Moses was an hundred and twenty years old
when he died: his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated.”
As the reader sits in his swinging hammock beneath the wide-spreading
branches of some great oak and pronounces these words to a listening
friend, they may sound light and trifling. But if he could stand here
where I am, and lift his eyes from the sacred page and let them fall
at once upon the surrounding hills and valleys, methinks these words
would then each _weigh a pound_. I have never studied the life of any
mortal man with the same degree of interest that I now study the life
and character of Moses. Probably it is all the more enjoyable because
I have been down in Egypt where Moses was born. I have been sailing up
and down the Nile where Moses once floated in the ark of bulrushes. As
I sat in a boat on the broad bosom of that majestic river, and looked
out upon its banks, I half-way imagined that I could see Moses’s mother
weaving the ark. Reader, would you know how that ark was made? Well,
it was on this wise. Moses’s mother took a bulrush, and a prayer, and
faith, and a tear, and plaited them together. Then more faith, and
tears, and bulrushes, and prayers, and plaited them together. When a
mother has thus woven an ark, she can trustingly launch her babe upon
any waters! And I am persuaded that if we, in our Christian work, would
use more faith and tears and prayers and less bulrushes, it would be
far better for our Redeemer’s Kingdom.
I repeat that I have been in Egypt where Moses was born; on the Nile
where he floated; to Pharaoh’s court where he was educated; I have been
out on the desert where Moses killed an Egyptian because he imposed
upon a Hebrew. I then climbed to the top of the regal pyramid, and
looked out over the land of Goshen where Israel served four hundred
years in bondage. I followed Moses down to the Red Sea where he led
Israel across. I looked up to the frowning brow of Sinai where Moses
met God face to face, and talked with him as man to man; where he
reached up and received from the hand of God the tables of stone on
which were written the Ten Commandments.
After following Moses around in the wilderness to some extent, I have
come now to where his eyes were closed in death. The inhabitants of
this country have no written history, but they know a great deal
traditionally about the life and character of Moses. Many weird stories
and beautiful legends concerning him have been handed down from
generation to generation, and are as fresh in the minds of the people
to-day as if he had died within the recollection of some now living.
Frequently in these stories Scripture history and legendary lore are
beautifully interwoven. For instance, the people here say that Moses
with three million Jews had camped on the plain of Moab. And God said
unto him, “Moses, get thee up into yonder mountain, and I will show
thee from thence the land of promise.” When God spake Moses obeyed—he
started at once. Standing high upon the mountain side he looked back
upon the tabernacle and the tents of Israel. The people followed
him with their prayers and blessings. He paused, looked back at his
brethren, and waved them a last adieu, as if to say,
“Fare thee well, and if forever,
Still forever fare thee well.”
Then with his face turned toward the mountain top, and his heart
lifted to heaven, he continued his onward, upward journey, climbing
higher and higher, until after a while there was nothing at all above
him save eagles, and stars, and God. Away up here above the earth
Moses saw two men—two angels in the form of men, and said unto them,
“Brethren, what are you doing?” “We are digging a grave, sir.” “For
whom are you digging the grave?” “We know not for whom it is. God told
us to dig it, and we are simply doing His bidding. And, Moses,” they
continue, “the man for whom we are digging this grave is the best
creature in all the earth—God loves him well. He is just about your
size, and, Moses, we do not know whether this grave is long enough and
deep enough. Will you please lie down here and measure it for us?”
Moses responded, “Yea, brethren, if you request it.” “We do request
it.” So Moses lay down to measure the grave for them, and they stooped
over and kissed him to sleep, and Moses was dead.
These people have other legends about Moses as pathetic and beautiful
as the one just given. But we have seen enough to know that
“By Nebo’s lonely mountain,
On this side Jordan’s wave,
In a vale in the land of Moab,
There lies a lonely grave.
And no man dug that sepulchre,
And no man saw it e’er;
For the Angels of God upturned the sod,
And laid the dead man there.
“That was the grandest funeral
That ever passed on earth;
But no man heard the trampling,
Or saw the train go forth.
Noiselessly as the daylight
Comes when the night is done,
And the crimson streak on ocean’s cheek
Grows into the great sun—
“Noiselessly as the spring-time
Her crown of verdure weaves,
And all the trees on all the hills
Open their thousand leaves—
So, without sound of music,
Or voice of them that wept,
Silently down from the mountain crown
The great procession swept.
“This was the bravest warrior
That ever buckled sword;
This the most gifted poet
That ever breathed a word;
And never earth’s philosopher
Traced, with his golden pen,
On the deathless page, truths half so sage,
As he wrote down for men.
“And had he not high honor?
The hillside for his pall;
To lie in state while angels wait
With stars for tapers tall;
And the dark rock pines, like tossing plumes,
Over his bier to wave;
And God’s own hand, in that lonely land,
To lay him in the grave.
“In that deep grave, without a name,
Whence uncoffined clay
Shall break again—most wondrous thought—
Before the Judgment-day,
And stand with glory wrapped around
On the hills he never trod,
And speak of the strife that won our life
With the Incarnate Son of God.
“Oh, lonely tomb in Moab’s land,
Oh, dark Beth-peor’s hill,
Speak to these curious hearts of ours,
And teach them to be still.
God hath his mysteries of grace—
Ways we can not tell;
He hides them deep, like the secret sleep
Of him he loved so well.”
If we would learn a lesson from the life and character of this
great man, let it be this: In all things we are to obey God, both
in the spirit and the letter of the law, remembering that for _one
disobedience Moses was not allowed to enter the promised land_.