Yea, Though I Walk Through the Valley
Today was our last morning in Bethlehem, and we began our journey North toward Jesus’ childhood home of Nazareth.
I must first say how glorious the weather has been! Even in mid-winter, the temperature is a very comfortable 20°C, with the sun shining and not a cloud to be seen. It has been perfect touring weather, and it seems that this will continue for the rest of the week.
Our first stop was the Judean Desert, on the road to Jericho, where the story of the Good Samaritan takes place. This is also where Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness, resisting the temptations of the Devil, the story which provides the basis for our present-day “giving something up for Lent”. On reflection, I think that this was the first desert I’ve ever seen in real life, and this goes beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. The uniform, stark cream undulation extends to the horizon in every direction; the terrain lunar and lifeless. It is not difficult to imagine travellers falling victim to the desert, without anybody nearby to render aid: the brief description of “wilderness” does not do the landscape justice.
For convenience sake, we strayed from strict chronology to visit the bank of the Jordan River, which flows from the Sea of Galilee and marks the border between Israel and Jordan (along with more than a couple of minefields). It was here that Jesus was baptised by John, and the tour group sat on the bank to have a service for the renewal of baptismal vows. Sans tourists, the location would be quite tranquil, with palms and reeds lining the water, reminiscent of a baby Moses scene. What surprised many of us, though, was the presence of eucalypts, here and elsewhere on the journey. Apparently, they were brought over during the mid-20th century and planted near swamps to drink up the water and create more fertile land. Here, they had done the job very well, with the distance between the banks short enough to have an international conversation.
Once arriving in Nazareth, we had ‘sandwiches’ at an insalubrious restaurant on the main street, carved into a cave on the side of a hill. In Jesus’ time, Nazareth would have been an unexceptional backwater farming village with only a dozen or so families, but today is a large commercial Arab town, congested with traffic. It is here that we visited the Church of the Annunciation, celebrating where the Angel Gabriel told Mary that she would bear a child. The outer courtyard of the Church contained various depictions of Mary from different countries, all in their respective unique styles. One of the more interesting ones was from pre-reunification Germany, which showed Mary with two children, separated by a wall, but holding hands.
Like most churches and cathedrals standing on holy sites today, the Basilica of the Annunciation was built on remains of a Crusader church, and is still in active use today (juxtaposed against the ancient stone remains of Mary’s house, the microphones and sound system were all set-up and ready for the worship band). This place was much more peaceful than the previous day’s chaos in the Church of the Nativity.
After a very full day of bussing half the length of the country, we arrived at Kibbutz Nof Ginosar, where we will be staying for the next few nights while we visit sites around the Sea of Galilee. The kibbutz operates the hotel at which we are staying, along with a few other businesses that I will examine more closely on future walks around the compound.
The kibbutz backs onto the Sea of Galilee, so our group decided to get in early and take an evening stroll out to the pier. A small group of young American girls decided to brave the water below and were splashing about and singing a few worship songs. We struck up a conversation and, one of them obviously taking a fancy to me, yelled her email address across the water to me. This really happened. In front of the rest of the tour group. And I will never hear the end of it.
Today’s obligatory sign photo is the witty moniker of a tow truck yard:
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