I just could not fall asleep last night. I can't understand it, because I was certainly tired enough, and I was grateful for a few friends back in the States who were awake with me. It's always fun to chat with Amy. And Nathan: I've been collecting some fine "souvenirs" for you.
Due to our schedule, my posts have been a full day behind our adventures. This afternoon, I have bowed out of some of the touring (because I am d-r-a-g-g-i-n-g) and have high hopes of catching up with myself. I know: a more reasonable person would be trying to catch up on sleep, but that's not how I roll.
So, let's talk about Thursday, shall we?
Immediately following our always delicious breakfast, we loaded into the bus for the short drive to Shepherd's Field. Rami explained that there are three traditional sites marking the "very" spot where the shepherds were terrified by the Heavenly Host telling them of the birth of the Christ Child. I don't know how accurate the location of this site is (nor do I much care), but it sure was lovely. The chapel/shrine is tucked into a well tended park/garden sort of place, and I have to say that I enjoyed being there so much more than the crowded and trash-strewn streets of the city. It was a quiet and reflective spot, despite being just a stone's throw away from where we parked the bus.
The chapel was built in the 1920s or 30s, and, like the shrine at Gethsemane, it was designed to mimic the event it commemorates. The dome of the chapel is made up of numerous small round windows, so the incoming sunlight evokes the brilliance of the
the angel choir. We didn't so much notice that because it was fairly overcast. The absence of blinding light did not hinder us from singing. Marty invited us all to sing "Angels We Have
Heard On High" (as is the tradition of pilgrims, I understand). He was great leader for the first two verses, but we must have been making such a glorious sound that he forgot the third verse. But, do not be afraid! Wherever 50+ churchy types are gathered, someone has all the verses memorized. We were able to sing "Come to Bethlehem and see..." while we were IN Bethlehem. It was pretty glorious (and it's on Facebook).
The altar amused me, with these angels "hiding" underneath. I think it
would have been more appropriate for the shepherds to be hiding under there.
The simple chapel has three paintings on the the walls depicting the role of the shepherds in the nativity story. Of interest to me was the dog accompanying the shepherds in each scene. Along with the shepherds, the dog is frightened at the announcement, in awe at the sight of the child, and joyful in returning to his work. Rami told us that this was an attempt by the artist to show that Christ came for all of creation - including the doggies! I have no photos of these paintings because, frankly, I liked the idea, but I didn't really care for the paintings themselves.
There was a cave/grotto were we gathered while Rami explained about the many, many caves formed in the limestone of this region, and how many people used these caves as dwellings for themselves and their animals. The neat wooden stables that we use to house our nativity scenes are, I've come to believe, not authentic. The are, however, traditional, and if tradition is good enough for the Ministry of Tourism, it's good enough for me!
Everyone loaded back into the bus and we began our journey to Jericho. We did not travel the traditional route - not for fear of bandits, but on a fancy new "flyover" highway. I will sheepishly admit (see what I did there?) that I am woefully ignorant of the political situation in this part of the world. While preparing for this pilgrimage, I found this short video very helpful: https://youtu.be/E0uLbeQlwjw
Our route took us through a Muslim neighborhood/colony where we saw evidence of the continuous destruction and rebuilding that is the way of life for those who live here.
Despite the constant threat of destruction and the realities of being occupied by Israelis, the people of the Palestinian Territories continue to rebuild and live hopefully. Olive groves are planted right next to pits filled with shells of burned out cars and other rubble.
Below is a shot of the flyover road. Palestinians are not permitted to use these roads which link Jerusalem to the settlements. You can see the Israeli settlement in the distance on the ridge. It's all neat and fancy and modern, and a great place to live. Israelis who choose to live there may do so for many reasons, but a big one is that the government offers incentives in the way of tax breaks and that sort of thing. It's a great deal for the people who choose to live in these well-planned, spacious, suburban neighborhoods...except that the State of Israel does not have permission to build here on the West Bank. Yet, they have, and they continue to do so. It's an occupation of regular people, just moving in, raising families, going about their lives...and it complicates the whole situation here. They're squatters, and there are thousands of them...in really nice houses, raising (in all likelihood) really nice families.
We continued our journey toward Jericho, passing, but not stopping, at the traditional site of the Good Samaritan Inn. We did, however, stop at an overlook above the Valley of the Shadow of Death. (Yes, that V. of the S. of D.) Rami told us of the ancient route between Jerusalem and Jericho and how it followed this route. The Valley was named because of several probable reasons. First, it was a great place for bandits to lie in wait for travelers (like the poor fellow in the story of the Good Samaritan). Also, the valley here is so steep and narrow that very little sunlight makes it to the bottom of the valley. Sounds like a great place for a monastery, doesn't it? Well, someone thought so, because there's one built right into the side of the mountain. Zoom in, if you can. It's quite lovely.
We saw many bedouin camps along our route. Their "tents" are made of mostly sheet metal, and Rami pointed out that a number of them have satellite dishes on the rooftops. Shepherds and sheep and goats (and dogs) dotted the hillsides, but it was at this overlook that we saw some of them close-up:
Vendors are everywhere, and it has been a source of amusement to our group. The same scarves, sold by the same guy, can be purchased in several different locations for 2 for $20, 4 for $20, 5 for $20, or (if your name is Cindy Brommer) 6 for $20. So, there we were, out in the Wilderness, along the road between Jerusalem and Jericho, and there were no fewer than 5 people selling scarves, jewelry, trinkets, and freshly squeezed pomegranate or orange juice. I did not buy a scarf (even though the 7 year-old boy selling them was just lovely) or a trinket, but I was thirsty...and how often do I get freshly squeezed pomegranate juice at home? (Never.) I have not been too worried about the food or water here - I prefer to live boldly - and the fellow was cutting and squeezing the fruit right there, so I figured it was probably safe. Not until I poured the first bit into my mouth did it occur to me that I had no idea when or how he last cleaned his juicer. Oh, well... I gave the rest to John. The chemo should take care of any bacteria, right?
We traveled on to Jericho, stopping at a large tourist shop (my favorite) (not really). They were selling Hebron glass there, which was beautiful, if you like to dust. I don't, so I didn't buy anything. We then traveled on to a vista across from the Mount of Temptation (write your own joke). This is the site where, according to tradition, Jesus was taken by Satan to tempt him with power, etc. (That was one of the pages I had to skip in my children's bible; Satan was just too frightening.) We did not so much see Satan, but we did see vendors...and we were tempted! Coffee, produce, leather goods, camel rides... so much temptation! I bought a coffee and a pastry filled with date and chocolate. Both were delicious.
The same vista overlooked a valley filled with date palms, a huge part of the agricultural economy of Jericho. Jericho, we were told, is famous for producing the highest quality dates in the world - and the vendors will give you a "very good price." It was interesting to learn from Marty that nearly all of these wonderful dates are exported to places that are eager to buy dates from the Holy Land, and the people who grow them have to IMPORT dates for themselves from Saudi Arabia! Strange. Also, date production is very water dependent, and this is the desert. Water is a political commodity, and the mass production of dates has huge implications for the economy and the environment.
Date Plantation
Driving through Jericho, we passed, but did not stop at, the sycamore tree that the Palestinian Ministry of Tourism tells us is the one climbed by Zacchaeus. (Okay...)
Rami pointed out that this tree is only about 400 years old, so it's probably NOT the actual tree climbed by Zacchaeus.
Zacchaeus drove a wee little car,
A wee little car drove he.
He parked it by a sycamore tree
For the parking there was free.
And as our bus drove by his car
We photographed that tree.
And we said:
"Zacchaeus!
We traveled halfway around the world to see this tree that isn't even legitimately historic, and there you go ruining our once in a lifetime opportunity by parking your car right in our money shot!
Little jerk!
(Not my best work; I'll admit it.)
Down the road a bit, we came to the Jordan River and the spot where, according to tradition, Jesus was baptized by John. It was lovely; it was moving, it was narrow, and it was muddy. I did not put my feet or any other part of me in the water, but I did look up and down the river and tried to imagine what it must have been like... The thing that made the biggest impression on me was the presence of several pure white rock doves. Every now and then they would swoop down over the river and over our heads and off to Someplace Else. It put me to mind of the Spirit of the Lord descending like a dove as Jesus rose up out of the Jordan. Swooping is what doves do, I guess, but I was not expecting them, and seeing them gave me chills.
Nothing like having 75 tourists witness your baptism in the Jordan River, huh?
Those doves, though...
Naomi stuck her hand in the water. Unlike me, she is not dead inside.
We traveled toward the Dead Sea and Qumran, just a short way from Jericho. At Qumran, we had lunch at the Palestinian equivalent of the Amish buffets back home. The food was passable, but not great, and there was So. Much. And a gift shop, filled with such treasures as I [heart] Dead Sea refrigerator magnets and ball caps. I really wanted a pair of cheap plastic binoculars printed with "Have you seen the Essenes?" but I guess they were sold out. (Once again, I bought nothing.)
We spent a good bit of time at the Qumran archaeological site, which I really enjoyed. The exhibits focused on the Essene community and its culture more than the Dead Sea Scrolls. I really appreciated that as I had taken a course from a visiting professor at Juniata (about 100 years ago) on the DSScrolls. The prof had done a bunch of work at the dig site and had a lot to tell us about the scrolls, but I don't remember learning much about the Essenes. Of course, I might not have been paying attention. (Again.)
Qumran Photos:
That cave right there. That's where the shepherd boy found the first scroll.
Google it.
(I'm getting sleepy.)
Looking across the Qumran dig site toward the Dead Sea.
Our final stop of the day was at a private beach on the Dead Sea. I did not go in. (I know, I know... it's the "swim of a lifetime") It wasn't exactly warm, and I really don't make a habit of swimming in puddles... I put my feet in, okay? That's more than I did at the Jordan River, and it's all the same water. So, here's a fun shot of Naomi and me in the Dead Sea,
and another of John watching EVERYBODY'S bags,
because he certainly wasn't going to go into the water, what with being the owner of high blood pressure and all...
Tomorrow, we're going to see the Actual Place Where Jesus Was Born.
They probably call it something holier than that.
FYI: I'm still waiting for the food poisoning from the juice to set in. Stay tuned.
The beginning of this made me remember a sermon that Pr. John did one Easter, I'll call it a soliloquy? He was speaking in the voice of a Shepard who, when he was a child, had followed the star to the birth of Jesus. And now was a witness to the death of Jesus. Very interesting!
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