Bethany.—Bethlehem.—Rachel's Tomb.—The Shepherd Boy.—Ruth and Naomi.—Garden of Gethsemane.—Departure from Jerusalem.—Yosef.—Jericho R—Ain-es-Sultan.—Morning Call.—Donkey Boy.—Dead Sea.—Along the Banks of the Jordan.—John the Baptist.—Bad R.
ethany is perhaps two miles from Jerusalem. At one time it was the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus, a family whom Jesus dearly loved to visit when tired of the noise and confusion of the city. Sickness and death came to that family, and the brother was taken from them and placed in the tomb. When Jesus heard of their distress he said to his disciples, "I go that I may awake him out of sleep." And when the home was reached and the burial place of Lazarus pointed out "Jesus wept;" and at his command the stone was taken from the cave and Lazarus was brought to life, even though he had been in the grave four days. The unbelieving crowd saw Jesus had power to make alive, and the result was many "believed on him."
There was not much to be seen in the little village,—a church, a few houses, and very many beggars,—and as the day was well spent we all decided not to tarry very long, but to return to the hotel in the city of Jerusalem and rest, for every one of us was tired. Our tramps were always long ones, and at the close of a day rest was sweet.
I presume there are but few of you who have not heard of "Bethlehem of Judea." It is spoken of as "Ephrath," and is known to be the birthplace of David and Christ.
We left Jerusalem by the Jaffa Gate, a party of eighteen, and every one mounted upon the back of a horse. Our company consisted of two Australians, seven Englishmen, two Germans, one Scotchman, and six Americans. Eight of the number were women. Not one of the party was under the age of thirty-five years. You will see that none of us were children.
My experience in horseback riding was quite limited, therefore I did poorly. The rest were good riders because they had experience. We got along pretty well, and the practice of that day prepared us all for the many days of hard riding which followed. The desire to be upon my feet, rather than upon the back of a horse, was never quite overcome.
Our horses seldom got out of a walk, because of the poor condition of the r. Fast riding in Palestine is very seldom engaged in, and as a rule horses have their own way, regulating their gait to suit themselves. A number of people were on the r walking and riding donkeys. The animals were so small that when the riders' feet hung down they touched the ground, which sight amused us greatly. Our English sidesaddles were quite a y to them, and they scarcely raised their eyes higher than where the saddles were located. In their minds the Arabs were probably comparing the neatness of our saddles to the clumsy looking things used by them.
Bethlehem is about six miles from Jerusalem, and those six miles seemed very long ones to us, for the rwas hard to travel. The country was extremely stony, and we wondered how grain could find soil in which to sprout. Fields were passed from which enough stones had been picked to make a fence which was, perhaps, one mile in length and wide enough for several horsemen to ride abreast upon it.
Before reaching Bethlehem a shower of rain came up and the guide took us into the tomb of Rachel for shelter. The tomb was well filled with Arab men and women who had gone there before us, and when we all appeared before them they scattered at a lively rate. Getting close to a party of Christians would no doubt have made them very uncomfortable, so they preferred to vacate.
Many, many years ago Jacob and Rachel were making a journey to Bethlehem, and when but a short distance from the city "Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, which is Bethlehem. And Jacob set a pillar upon her grave: that is the pillar of Rachel's grave unto this day."
Long, long ago the pillar which had been set up by Jacob disappeared; but in its place stands a small white building with a dome. It is by the ride, and everybody looks upon it as marking the last resting place of Jacob's beloved wife. It is known all around as "Rachel's Tomb," and it was into this tomb that we were taken to escape the falling rain.
During the reign of king Saul there was a man who was known as Jesse the Bethlehemite, and he had a large family of very fine looking boys. The Lord desired to make a new king to reign in the place of Saul, and one of Jesse's sons was to be the fortunate one. Samuel—and you know who he was?—was appointed by the Lord to go and anoint the new king. But poor Samuel was dreadfully afraid of king Saul, and said, "How can I go? If Saul hear it, he will kill me." But the Lord doeth all things well in every instance, and in that matter he was not slack. "And Samuel did that which the Lord spake, and came to Bethlehem."
One by one the sons of Jesse were looked upon, but the Lord was not satisfied with any excepting the very youngest, and he was a shepherd boy "ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look upon." Well, Samuel anointed him king to reign in the place of Saul, and David was the boy's name. I have often wondered whether he ever thought such a high position would be given him. When the Lord desires workmen these days he is just as liable to call them from the humble walks of life as he did David, and remember he is watching you, and knows whether you will be fit for his work; and no matter whether you are a farmer's boy or a homeless bootblack, when the Lord is ready he will call you.
This is, in a few words, the story of David the shepherd boy who was made king in the place of Saul. Well, David came to be a great man and everybody looked on him as such. He fought many battles, and in the "war between the house of Saul and the house of David he grew stronger and stronger."
David had several sons and among the number was one whose name was Absalom, and there was no one who received more praise for his beauty than this third son of David, for we read that "from the sole of his foot even to the crown of his head there was no blemish in him." Absalom had a fine head of hair and each year it was cut and weighed, and the weight of it was astonishingly great. Now with all of his good looks—like many another young man—Absalom was wicked, for he conspired against David and stole the hearts of the people. The poor father was not aware of the deceitfulness of his son until "there came a message to David, saying, The hearts of the men of Israel are after Absalom," and then to escape the violence of the wicked son he "went forth, and all his household after him, and tarried in a place that was far off." Don't you believe that was a sorrowful sight when "David went up by the ascent of mount Olivet, and wept as he went up"? Just think of him hurriedly walking over the stones in his bare feet, and then think "all the people that was with him covered every man his head, and they went up, weeping as they went up." Just think of the distress and heartache brought about by the action of one wayward boy. Even though the father is made to suffer yet he loves the son, and when David sent forth men to battle he gave this command, "Deal gently for my sake with the young man, even with Absalom." The sword did not cut him asunder, but we read that "Absalom rode upon a mule, and the mule went under a bough of a great oak, and he was taken up between the heaven and the earth: and the mule that was under him went away. And a certain man saw it, and told Joab, and said, Behold, I saw Absalom hanging in an oak," and that was the fate of a boy who loved self more than any one else. But how do you imagine David felt when tidings of the son's death were brought him? When the runner who brought the news was near enough to hear David's voice, he called out, "Is the young man Absalom safe?" And again we read that he wept; "and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom! my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!" When it was told how the king was weeping "the victory that day was turned into mourning unto all the people."
Young people are prone to be ambitious, and that is all right; but, dear young people, don't let your ambitious desires cause you to disobey father and mother and bring sadness and sorrow upon those who love you. Think of sorrowing David, and then think of the beautiful son's final end, and may you learn from it what is becoming a child.
The tomb of Absalom is before you. We do not know by whom it was built, but it is thought that it marks the site of the pillar which "Absalom in his lifetime had taken and reared up for himself, which is in the king's dale," and this tomb is in the valley east of Jerusalem.
The touching story of Ruth and Naomi comes to my mind while I write, and my heart goes out in sympathy toward those lonely widows who perhaps walked along the very rwhich we traveled over. The fields of Boaz were no doubt quite near to Bethlehem, and I think of his kindness to Ruth when he said, "Go not to glean in another field, neither go from hence, but abide here fast by my maidens;" and then later on he said, "Let her glean even among the sheaves, and reproach her not." Truly a good man was Boaz, and a deserving woman was Ruth.
There lived in Nazareth a man by the name of Joseph, and a woman whose name was Mary. A law had been passed that all the world should be taxed, so "all went to be taxed, every one in his own city." Mary and Joseph traveled a long, long distance, and upon their arrival in the city found, to their sorrow, that there was no room for them in the inn. They were tired, weary and almost sick, and had no place to rest. Oh, what a trying time for them. While waiting to be taxed a child was born, a little baby boy; and his mother "wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn." That seemed like a poor place for the tender infant, but the angels kept good watch over him. The name of the child was Jesus, and his birthplace was Bethlehem; and he proved to be the Savior of the world, for when he reached manhood he suffered and died that you and I might live. "The Church of the Nativity" is said to cover the spot where Jesus was born; but we shall never know for certain how much truth there is in the saying.
At the close of the day spent in Bethlehem the guide informed us we had ridden almost twenty miles, and with astonishment we said, "No wonder we were tired and weary." Arrangements had been made for us to start the following day on a long journey, which would take twenty-one days to complete. Our home was to be in tents, and every mile of the rwas to be traveled over on horseback. Horses and mules were to carry baggage, beds and bedding, dishes, cook stove and food. Trunks were left behind, because much baggage was not allowed.
From now on we shall call our guide "the dragoman," which means interpreter. Mr. Heilpin spoke seven or eight languages with ease. He was a tall, well-built man with commanding appearance. We were impressed with the thought that he was quite able to take care of a large party of dependent tourists.
We were to have left Jerusalem at an early hour in the morning, but a heavy rain storm hindered us from starting at the appointed time. After the rain slackened a little all started to the place where the horses stood saddled and bridled. Just as we were about to mount, the rain came down wonderfully fast, and there was somewhat of a desire to turn back and take shelter in the hotel. Mr. Heilpin, the dragoman, would not hear to it, and when he gave the order to go, we murmured not, but went. The outlook was not very pleasant: to turn back was out of the question, and a ride of twenty miles was to be made before reaching our camping place in the evening. We moved on, bearing very sad looking faces and trying hard to make the best of it.
Our journey took us by the Garden of Gethsemane and over the Mount of Olives, the same rover which Christ rode on the back of a colt, on his way to Jerusalem. We never expected to see the Holy City again, and at this point we turned, looking back, and in our hearts we said, Farewell, City of David, farewell.
The rain had ceased by that time, and the sun came forth bright and hot; only for a little while, however, for in a very short time the rain came down as fast as ever. My rain cloak seemed to protect me but poorly, for by this time a good deal of water had gone through my clothing and it was pretty well soaked.
Noontime came. We stopped in a dirty, dreary looking cave to eat our luncheon. The servant who attended to our wants spread a cloth upon the ground, and upon the cloth was placed the food which had been prepared in Jerusalem. All of the party but myself sat around the cloth. I stood up and ate what little was needed. As soon as possible I went out and stood in the sun, which was again shining. Between the sun and wind I was made more comfortable, and by the time we were ready to start my clothing was quite dry. After luncheon we mounted our horses and were again on our way to Jericho.
Somewhere on that rperhaps the good Samaritan came across the poor man who had fallen among thieves, who had been stripped of his clothing, wounded and left half dead. The ris considered unsafe yet, for thieves still act unkindly toward those who travel over it.
Yosef was the name of the servant who helped with luncheon. He was quite thoughtful of those in the party who called upon him, and always willing to do their bidding. Much of the time he was found at my side, for I seemed to be the one who needed him. He was a great fellow to talk, and he chattered away leaving me to guess at what he was saying. His English was limited, and I knew no Arabic at all, so it kept both busy trying to think out what the other had said.
One time Yosef looked up in my face and called very cheerily in Arabic, "Ain-es-Sultan, Ain-es-Sultan," and while calling pointed with his finger off in the distance. Repeatedly I said, "I don't understand you, Yosef." And again the same "Ain-es-Sultan" was called out, and he motioned with his head, as much as to say, Yes, there it is, away over there. But what was it? That was the question. "What does Yosef want to tell us?" we asked the dragoman. "He is trying to tell you we shall soon be at the Prophet's Fountain,"—the very one which Elisha threw salt into. It is said that all the water around there is poor; but we know the water in the Prophet's Fountain is splendid.
Our camping place was on a high knoll near the flowing fountain, and when the camping place was reached a beautiful sight met our gaze. Before us were eleven white tents, and floating above one of them was the American flag,—the Stars and Stripes. As my eyes fell upon it I called out to the American portion of the party, "Look at the old flag; how I wish it might fly above our tent."
It took but a short time to dismount, but a much longer time to stand straight after being upon our feet. Men know nothing of the torture women must endure sitting sidewise on a saddle. But we got all right after a while. When a tent was assigned us we forthwith went to it; and there, sure enough, the old flag was flying above it. The sight of it made me homesick. Yes, I thought of America, so far away, and my eyes filled brimful of tears. There was no time for tears, so I brushed them away and in a very short time after we were all called to dinner.
After dinner was over the dragoman informed us that he had a chest which he slept upon every night, and that our watches, money and valuables should be handed to him for safe keeping. Furthermore he said: "In each tent will be found a long piece of rope; use it in tying your loose baggage to your bedstead. Your clothing, boots and shoes you will put in as safe a place as possible." When he finished his remarks we seemed spellbound; but we were at Jericho, and we knew the reputation of the country was not any better than it used to be. The servants kept watch all night, and yet, notwithstanding that, the natives could have crawled into the tents and taken everything within their reach if any of them had chanced to be around.
There were nine sleeping tents, and each person had an iron bedstead with mattress, two linen sheets, one blanket, a white spread and one pillow with a case upon it; and every one of the tents was numbered. The number of ours was nine. All of the party seemed to have enjoyed the good, warm meal, and a little time was spent in talking of what had been seen during the day. But bedtime came and each one retired to his tent. After tying the baggage to our bedsteads, placing boots, shoes and clothing under our head and feet, we crawled into the little beds. Sleep overcame us, and in a little while we were in dreamland. My sleep was broken, for every movement outside of the tent caused my eyes to open wide, and much time was wasted in looking for the thieving Arab who never put in an appearance.
Hyenas and jackals are numerous in that country, and during the nights they bark long and loud. Sometimes they seemed not very far from the camp. Very likely they would have ventured into camp; but a bright fire was kept burning, and seated around it were the watching servants.
Early the next morning all hands were aroused by the rattling of tin pans which were in the hands of the servants. The banging noise was distressing to listen to, and we wished the pans were far enough away. Some were slow to rise, even with such deafening noise. But they soon learned that it was useless to even think of taking a second nap after the first banging of pans. Every morning from that on the deafening music was heard. Breakfast was always ready for us, and no time was wasted in waiting.
Our meals were usually very good. There was tea, coffee, bread, butter, eggs and omelette,—composed of eggs, milk and salt. Condensed milk was used for coffee; the butter was canned too; it was never fresh, but always very soft. A little of it went a great ways. Indeed, many times it was left untouched by us. We did not tarry very long after breakfast on the camp ground, for our horses were saddled and the dragoman waiting to take the party to the Dead Sea and the Jordan.
The modern village of Jericho was passed through, and not a house was to be seen; nothing but Bedouin Arab tents. You know Jesus passed through Jericho on his way to Jerusalem. There Zaccheus lived, and you remember he was small of stature. He wanted to see Jesus when he passed by, but the crowd was so great that there was no chance for him; so he ran ahead of the crowd and climbed up a tree, and there he could see all who passed.
Our riding was usually done single file, for all through that country the r are bad. The sun was extremely hot, and a nice shade would have been agreeable to all; but we could not choose the path, so we journeyed on and on.
The people in that part of the country are not very thrifty,—more inclined to be lazy. They never plant trees, and I presume never think of gardening.
Many thorn trees were to be seen as we journeyed on, and the dragoman told us that the crown of thorns which was placed upon the head of our Savior is supposed to have been made with thorns taken from the trees which grow there. Such long, pointed thorns! Oh, how sad to think of the tender flesh being pierced by them! Jesus was scourged,—severely whipped. That ought to have been enough suffering; but here came the soldiers with a platted crown of thorns, and placed it upon the tender head. Still not enough; he was nailed to a cross and then his side was pierced with a spear. Oh, what agony! The cup of sorrow was full. Christ drank it, and the will of the Lord was done. Children, do you know he died for you? Yes, for all of us. He has left us many good instructions and among them is this, "Pray that ye enter not into temptation."
As we neared the Dead Sea the country grew more barren looking. The ground in places was covered with salt and sulphur. No flowers were growing there, and not a bird could be seen flying around, so we pronounced it a desolate place because no living thing was in sight. If you look at the picture closely you may see a few small pieces of wood upon the ground, but not a blade of grass. I imagine those large sticks which stand together are intended to have canvas thrown over them to be used by bathers, for travelers often bathe in the Dead Sea just for the y of it. Owing to the rain which fell fast the day we were there, not any of our party ventured in. We did not tarry very long, for there was but little pleasure in being at such a desolate place.
The Arab who kept close to my side, so that assistance might be given when needed, did not ride a horse or donkey, but walked every step of the way. Arabs are the greatest fellows to walk I ever heard of, and they never seemed one bit tired when night came. The boy usually kept up with the horse, but occasionally he would hurry back, and at such times I heard him pounding something. My curiosity was at last aroused, and on looking back I beheld him hammering a piece of hard bread and breaking it in tiny little pieces. Now you may think we were sorry for the poor fellow, and that day instead of eating luscious oranges for luncheon we gave them to him. It was surprising to know how quickly they disappeared. After eating them he said, "Me very good donkey boy; backsheesh." We had orders not to give money, or anything else, to the servants, because they would give us trouble with their continual begging. We found there was some truth in the matter, so from that time on nothing more was given them.
The wind was blowing hard the day we saw the Dead Sea and the heavy water was in commotion. The waves rolled on the shore making quite a roaring sound. The water is intensely bitter and salty, and after having tasted some of it I felt sorry enough, for the bitter taste was in my mouth the rest of the day, and even now I almost shudder when thinking of it.
You know this body of water is spoken of in Scripture as the "salt sea," "the sea of the plain" and the "east sea." Not a fish is found in its waters and the name Dead Sea seems fitting, for it is death to animal life.
A ride of perhaps four miles brought us to the banks of the river Jordan, and there we dismounted and ate our luncheon. Oh what a relief to be upon our feet again and then to be under the shade of trees. The contrast between this resting place and the last one was great, for there everything was dead; here were green grass and beautiful trees.
Do you remember the Bible story of John the Baptist who preached in the wilderness of Judea? You know great crowds of people went from all parts of the country to hear him, for he told them something they had never heard before. This man was very poor and wore the coarsest kind of clothing, which was camel's hair, "and a leathern girdle about his loins." He ate the simplest kind of food, consisting of locusts and wild honey. Though poor his ministry was successful, and many people confessed their sins and went down into the water and were "baptized of him in Jordan," the very river on whose banks we ate our noonday lunch. The people wondered "whether he was the Christ or not," and John, not desiring to receive any more reverence than belonged to him, said to the people, "He that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear." In time Jesus appeared and desired baptism, but John felt too unworthy to baptize such a personage as Jesus, so refused to administer it, saying, "I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me?" Well, they talked the matter over and the Savior said, "Suffer it to be so now," and the good preacher complied with the wish; after which John and Jesus came "up straightway out of the water: and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him."
The Jordan is mentioned many times in the Scriptures, and we feel that every part of it is sacred. We cannot tell where John baptized the blessed Master, or where Elisha told Naaman to wash seven times that he might be healed of the leprosy, but we do know that the river Jordan which we saw is the same river in which John baptized Jesus and a great multitude of people.
The name of no other river is known so far away as that of the Jordan. And why should not Christians of all ages love to read and talk about it? Thousands of Christians all over the world, and of every nation, have made pilgrimages to Palestine expressly to stand on the banks of the river, or, better yet, to bathe in its waters. It was enough for us to stand on its banks, to see the trees in full leaf, and to sit upon the beautiful green grass and partake of the good things of earth.
The picture which you see is a good representation of the river, and unless you view the stream itself you will never see a more perfect picture.
We left the banks of the sacred stream after luncheon and rode back to our camp at Jericho. While riding along the Arab guards entertained us by showing how wonderfully well they managed their horses. A motion of the hand gave the horse to understand that a circle was to be made, and with surprise we watched them make it. The horse and rider understood each other well.
Our dragoman joined in the ride, and it seemed an easy matter for him to outride his Arab friends. He had a swift-footed Arabian horse, and at times it seemed that its feet scarcely touched the grass as it moved along. A gentleman of our party joined the ride, and it was plain to see that he was not used to managing a horse as well as the rest.
When near a small village women were seen carrying upon their heads great stacks of wood and brush. What drudges! we thought; and while watching them walk along we wondered whether the poor creatures ever became discouraged with their lot, whether they would be willing to exchange the life of drudgery for one of comfort and ease if a way were opened to them. Down deep in my heart I felt wonderfully blessed in being allowed to live in a land where women are on an equality with men and not beneath them, as is the case in Palestine.
On reaching camp in the evening the dragoman informed us that we had ridden twenty-four miles during that day. You may well imagine we were surprised to hear it, and you may know we were exceedingly tired and anxious for rest. Two nights were spent at the same camping place, but the dragoman said we should take a long ride the next day; consequently all must arise early in the morning. Sweet sleep did not come to me that night and there was no chance to nap in the morning, for the tin can pounding and bell ringing aroused us at four o'clock. Oh, what a noise! Wedding serenaders in the country are the only ones who are able to make music to compare with it. Quickly we arose and hastily dressed, then made our way to the dining tent; and while we partook of the morning meal our tents were taken down and packed upon the back of mules and donkeys. There they stood, ld with camp fixtures, and before the camp ground was vacated cook stove, bed and bedding and large boxes of dishes, and victuals were all packed for the journey. The order to mount our horses was given, and as soon as possible we were upon their backs.
Camp had been at the foot of the mountain, so up, up, up we went, right from the start. The r were in a terrible condition, and sometimes it seemed almost impossible to cross the deep gullies which the water had washed in them.
Three servants accompanied us now instead of one, as heretofore,—Yosef, Mustaff, and an Abyssinian who was extremely black. These three kept very close to us while riding along, so that assistance might be rendered when desired. I have a distinct recollection of seeing some very large holes in the r which the servants were compelled to fill with stones while we were waiting, so that we might pass over. I also call to mind times when one of the men led the ladies' horses while the second one held them on, and very carefully did the trusty animals step until over those dangerous places. The gentlemen of the party received help too; but one servant was all that was needed, for there was no chance for them to slip off of the back of their horses.
We were in the saddle long before sunrise, and after riding an hour or more the top of the first hill was reached and a short stop made. In looking back we saw the sun coming from behind Mount Nebo; and oh what a beautiful picture of the Dead Sea and the winding Jordan! Time was too precious to be spent in looking long at one picture, so we rode on, and that day proved to be the most trying day's ride of the whole twenty-one.
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