We woke up in the kabbutz wondering what we were going to see. At least, I did. Our journey through Israel the night before had begun at the border, where there had been a mix up and we'd waited for our bus to arrive to pick us up, and through the last hour of sunlight into dusk. By the time we'd checked into our rooms, it was late at night.
Sunshine greeted us, and as the bus picked us up, we had good views of the Sea of Galilee. All I could think of was that we'd arrived at another lake in the Okanagan. The lake is about 21 km long, so there is a lot of shore line. We could see lights of the town of Tiberias across the shore line, a town Jesus was familiar with in his day.
During this day we traveled first, up into the Golan Heights, to visit the place Herod had his holiday home in the hills. Cesearia Philippi, or Banias, a place where a rushing waterfall made a great spot for Herod to build a palace. This is one of the sources for the Jordan River, surrounded by trees, and the chirping of birds. This is the place where we hear Jesus saying to Peter "You are Petros (means, Rocky) and on this rock I will build my church." We listened to the words from scripture, and had our first encounter with the wisdom of our very own Peter, our Palestinian Christian guide. The Golan Heights is considered occupied territory by Syria, who claim this small patch of land as part of their own. We could see towns in Lebanon in the heights as well. This small troubled part of the world, with a strategic importance to three countries, has a significant message to tell about nations and power, with questions about where true security comes from. It is interesting to realize that all three nations share one mountain for recreation in the winter. Skiing occurs on three slopes, each claimed by one nation. How ironic, that a mountain may be shared for recreation, shared in peace, and yet surrounded by yellow signs announcing the presence of land mines outside the boundaries. Here is one ski hill where patrons will not be risking any back country skiing.
Our next stop was the Mount of the Beatitudes, a lovely place overlooking the Galilee. Again, we sat and listened to the history of the place, and the reading from the text we know well from the New Testament.
From here, we journeyed down to the lake, for an hour long cruise. The water sparkled, on what began as a very calm day. During the cruise, the crew shut down the motor, and we drifted on the lake, in silence. The story of the disciples in a boat on the sea in a storm, where Jesus came walking across the water was told. We listened to the story as a metaphor for the church. When Jesus isn't in the little boat that the church is, things can be pretty turbulent. As our cruise continued, the wind picked up as some clouds formed overhead. We got a small taste of the power of the wind and waves of this place.
Following a lunch of 'St. Peters fish' (tilapia) we continued to Capernaum. This small town was the home of Peter, with his mother. His house was made into a house church, and over years, the walls were changed into a small circular worship space. Over this site a new church has been built.
Our guide had a rating scale he uses to describe whether it is possible, probable or certain that Jesus was present at a place. 1 is a certainty. 2 is possible, but not certain. 3 is not possible, even if people have said this was the place, archeology doesn't back it up.
Capernaum is a 1. This town is a place archeology backs up as the actual site of the town. This is a place scripture backs up as a place Jesus was. And the site of Peters house has been marked and used from very early on in Christian history.
We gathered in the small park, and listened to the story of Jesus teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum. We were sitting in a grove of trees, with the remains of the town synagogue less than 15 feet behind us. A new synagogue, using white marble, was built on the black, rock foundation of the old synagogue Jesus would have stood in. I walked through the synagogue, and stood on the front step, looking out at the shoreline of the lake, the view which hasn't changed much in 2000 years. Then I walked past the other ruins, to stand and look at what remains of Peters house. My response was to be interested, but there wasn't much of an emotional connection. Then I walked down to the shore line.
That is where I connected. Looking at the lake, thinking about being a fisherman, sitting here, with this view, mending nets, repairing the boat, sorting fish. Across the lake I could see Tiberias, and the line of hills. The shore line was the same black rock used to build the ancient homes, the synagogue. If this was my lake, I'd be happy to call it home. A lovely place, peaceful, beautiful. The lake sparkled in the sunlight, reeds dotted the shoreline. 40 feet away was Peter's house. Not bad, Big Fisherman. Not bad at all.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Getting our feet wet, following in the footsteps of Jesus
The movement from the nation of Jordan through the river Jordan stands out as another significant 'shift' in our journey.
The desert had kind of grown on me. It is such a stark landscape, broken by mountains and sand sculptures, a few scattered Bedouin camps and, every so often, green patches of oasis.
Traveling down from Amman into the Jordan river valley one is struck by the line of green on either side of this water source. At the same time, I couldn't help but wish that there was more of the precious liquid, on both sides of the river, to wash away the persistent dust and the haze which hangs over the valley from the dead sea, and sand, and the heat.
We got out of the bus at Bethany beyond the Jordan - it is across the river from Israel. Following a long pathway through scrub, we saw ancient church sites and current construction underway on new places of worship and pilgrimage. We passed the church of John the Baptist, where many were baptized over centuries of use. At this site, during the winter floods of old, worship needed to be moved to higher ground when the river floods. Now, the Jordan has changed course, and there is no water close to the site. We had further to walk.
It was a hot day. We arrived at the Jordan, hot and sweaty. Entering the site, we dipped our hands in the filtered river water of the font, to splash on some refreshment. Standing on the viewing platform allowed a front row seat to the baptism services going on across the narrow expanse of water, across the border on the Israeli side. Soldiers with machine guns watched over all, ensuring no one traveled from one country to the other, probably no more than 10 feet, at best.
The river water is green, and cool. Walking down the wooden steps, we got our feet wet, choosing to keep our hands and faces well away from the water. We gathered as a group for a short service, reading the story of Jesus' baptism, reputed to be at this very site, or at least, nearby. At the end, each persons head was marked with water from the font. "Remember your baptism, and be thankful."
Joshua lead the people of the exodus through this water, to a new life. John the baptizer brought people back to this place to allow them to travel back across the river, in a baptism of repentance, for forgetting who they were, and being open to living in God's new creation, set in our midst. Jesus, too, traveled from one reality to another, as he came to this place, as he re-enacted the immersion in this water, a symbol of what separates us in one reality from God's reality. With wet feet, we walked back to the bus, and prepared for our journey through Israeli customs, to enter the next chapter of our story.
The desert had kind of grown on me. It is such a stark landscape, broken by mountains and sand sculptures, a few scattered Bedouin camps and, every so often, green patches of oasis.
Traveling down from Amman into the Jordan river valley one is struck by the line of green on either side of this water source. At the same time, I couldn't help but wish that there was more of the precious liquid, on both sides of the river, to wash away the persistent dust and the haze which hangs over the valley from the dead sea, and sand, and the heat.
We got out of the bus at Bethany beyond the Jordan - it is across the river from Israel. Following a long pathway through scrub, we saw ancient church sites and current construction underway on new places of worship and pilgrimage. We passed the church of John the Baptist, where many were baptized over centuries of use. At this site, during the winter floods of old, worship needed to be moved to higher ground when the river floods. Now, the Jordan has changed course, and there is no water close to the site. We had further to walk.
It was a hot day. We arrived at the Jordan, hot and sweaty. Entering the site, we dipped our hands in the filtered river water of the font, to splash on some refreshment. Standing on the viewing platform allowed a front row seat to the baptism services going on across the narrow expanse of water, across the border on the Israeli side. Soldiers with machine guns watched over all, ensuring no one traveled from one country to the other, probably no more than 10 feet, at best.
The river water is green, and cool. Walking down the wooden steps, we got our feet wet, choosing to keep our hands and faces well away from the water. We gathered as a group for a short service, reading the story of Jesus' baptism, reputed to be at this very site, or at least, nearby. At the end, each persons head was marked with water from the font. "Remember your baptism, and be thankful."
Joshua lead the people of the exodus through this water, to a new life. John the baptizer brought people back to this place to allow them to travel back across the river, in a baptism of repentance, for forgetting who they were, and being open to living in God's new creation, set in our midst. Jesus, too, traveled from one reality to another, as he came to this place, as he re-enacted the immersion in this water, a symbol of what separates us in one reality from God's reality. With wet feet, we walked back to the bus, and prepared for our journey through Israeli customs, to enter the next chapter of our story.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Thoughts about visiting Jordan.
It has been a whirlwind of days. Most of the group has been exhausted by the pace and the length of days. With the onslaught of information, experiences, emotional connection and learning curve, we fall into bed at night exhasted (many around 8:30 or 9:00pm) only to be jolted awake by a wake up phone call. This morning that came at 6:15 am.
Jordan was an eyeopener. The scenery, the welcoming of the people (they all greet you with 'welcome, welcome!) and the sites we visited were tantalizing introductions to a place many of us would want to revisit.
In Petra, our accomodation was a hotel built in a renovated stone village. Initially it was a bit tricky for some to find their rooms, but all settled into comfort and the beauty of the place. We visited Petra, a world heritage site, Little Petra, and a Crusader castle, Madaba and Mt. Nebo, before heading into Amman. As we drove from the Gulf of Aqaba north, we followed an ancient route for caravans, through the hills, known as the Kings Highway. The views were spectacular, over the stark barrenness of desert and hills, and we passed Bedouin camps, small farms (very dry, rocky sites the Bedouin raise crops on, marked by stones) and drove through smaller towns.
Why is it significant to have visited these sites, on what is particulary a 'pilgrimage' to 'holy lands?' We ask this question, and as I think about the sites seen in Jordan what I am struck by is the panoramic nature of it all: scenery, landscape, history, human story, and the layers of meaning which merge between landscape, politics, religion, peoples. The story of Petra begins with the Nabateans, but continues with Romans, Byzantine and even modern Bedouin history, and places of worship have been used by all types of religions and styles of worship. Our story as human beings is linked by our common nature, of flesh and blood, as well as spirit. Our story as people of faith is tied together in our shared reverence for our creator, respect for creation, and an awareness that we are not the centre of the universe, but God is. As I entered Petra, in hot sun and through the long Siq, surrounded by cliff face and carvings which have existed for millennia, I found myself transported in time, into another time, culture, and surrounded by the challenges which faced those living in the desert, facing challenges simply for survival most of us can only imagine. Yet imagine, I did, and what came through was the connection we have as humans, in these fragile bodies, life hanging on each heartbeat, each intake and exhale of breath, no matter the time we live in or the challenges we face. The glory of Petra is found in what remains of carved rock face, evidence of a people who cherished life, respected death, reverenced their creator, and found joy, beauty and meaning in living.
Standing in Petra I imagined watching camel trains, loaded with spices and silks arriving. I could hear the boots of the Roman army marching on the roman roadway, and I could see small children running around the marketplace, while grown ups went about their commerce, and daily chores as the centuries passed by. I imagined Moses arriving, with the people of the Exodus, seeking shelter and receiving what was necessary for survival in their journey. Centuries later I saw Magi, enroute from their homes while following a star, seeking sustenance and counsel for the road ahead. And I saw a young family fleeing their homeland, enroute to Egypt, and safety from a King.
It is one thing to read about history, another to breath in the hot, dry, dusty air, to see and smell the camels and donkeys, to hear many languages and accents spoken in a marketplace, to taste food and feel the dust between my toes. This is an immersion which results in my own being taking in the very nature of the place, something which changes my makeup, right down to a cellular level. Some of the shifts taking place (we keep saying "Shift happens") are obvious. Some are more hidden, deeper, and will take time to emerge.
In the midst of it all is a deep gratitude for being able to experience these places, this history, this moment in time that is my life, and to share it with these fellow travellers.
Jordan was an eyeopener. The scenery, the welcoming of the people (they all greet you with 'welcome, welcome!) and the sites we visited were tantalizing introductions to a place many of us would want to revisit.
In Petra, our accomodation was a hotel built in a renovated stone village. Initially it was a bit tricky for some to find their rooms, but all settled into comfort and the beauty of the place. We visited Petra, a world heritage site, Little Petra, and a Crusader castle, Madaba and Mt. Nebo, before heading into Amman. As we drove from the Gulf of Aqaba north, we followed an ancient route for caravans, through the hills, known as the Kings Highway. The views were spectacular, over the stark barrenness of desert and hills, and we passed Bedouin camps, small farms (very dry, rocky sites the Bedouin raise crops on, marked by stones) and drove through smaller towns.
Why is it significant to have visited these sites, on what is particulary a 'pilgrimage' to 'holy lands?' We ask this question, and as I think about the sites seen in Jordan what I am struck by is the panoramic nature of it all: scenery, landscape, history, human story, and the layers of meaning which merge between landscape, politics, religion, peoples. The story of Petra begins with the Nabateans, but continues with Romans, Byzantine and even modern Bedouin history, and places of worship have been used by all types of religions and styles of worship. Our story as human beings is linked by our common nature, of flesh and blood, as well as spirit. Our story as people of faith is tied together in our shared reverence for our creator, respect for creation, and an awareness that we are not the centre of the universe, but God is. As I entered Petra, in hot sun and through the long Siq, surrounded by cliff face and carvings which have existed for millennia, I found myself transported in time, into another time, culture, and surrounded by the challenges which faced those living in the desert, facing challenges simply for survival most of us can only imagine. Yet imagine, I did, and what came through was the connection we have as humans, in these fragile bodies, life hanging on each heartbeat, each intake and exhale of breath, no matter the time we live in or the challenges we face. The glory of Petra is found in what remains of carved rock face, evidence of a people who cherished life, respected death, reverenced their creator, and found joy, beauty and meaning in living.
Standing in Petra I imagined watching camel trains, loaded with spices and silks arriving. I could hear the boots of the Roman army marching on the roman roadway, and I could see small children running around the marketplace, while grown ups went about their commerce, and daily chores as the centuries passed by. I imagined Moses arriving, with the people of the Exodus, seeking shelter and receiving what was necessary for survival in their journey. Centuries later I saw Magi, enroute from their homes while following a star, seeking sustenance and counsel for the road ahead. And I saw a young family fleeing their homeland, enroute to Egypt, and safety from a King.
It is one thing to read about history, another to breath in the hot, dry, dusty air, to see and smell the camels and donkeys, to hear many languages and accents spoken in a marketplace, to taste food and feel the dust between my toes. This is an immersion which results in my own being taking in the very nature of the place, something which changes my makeup, right down to a cellular level. Some of the shifts taking place (we keep saying "Shift happens") are obvious. Some are more hidden, deeper, and will take time to emerge.
In the midst of it all is a deep gratitude for being able to experience these places, this history, this moment in time that is my life, and to share it with these fellow travellers.
Fellow Travellers Blog
Rob Black and Joanne Pritchard have been keeping their own travel blog as we go. You may take a look here: Http://sites.google.com/site/rjholylands/
Friday, October 29, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)