Note: The past week has been packed with excursions into the wild, to archeological sites of past civilizations, and to religious sites commemorating stories about Jesus’ ministry in the Galilee. In this post, I’ll mostly share my thoughts about the natural landscapes we visited. In a future post I hope to share in more detail my travels to the archeological and religious sites of Galilee….but for now there’s just too much to say in one post.
My last post talked about the people who share the story of Jerusalem. The ruins at the City of David and the Temple Mount both currently exist within a modern, bustling city that is still inhabited by the descendants of those who settled here long ago. In the city, the senses are overwhelmed…the sound of crowds speaking many languages; the smell of incense wafting from the marketplace; the sights of dress and décor displaying the piety of religious practitioners; the feel of uneven, stone walkways underfoot; the taste of foods unfamiliar to my tongue. I suppose the traders and pilgrims who traveled here two millennia ago from far off lands had similar sensory overload.
After my first week in the Old City and the hyper-stimulation of my senses, our group retreated into the Wild just east of Jerusalem. The mountain ridge that runs through Jerusalem stretches north-south, becoming a barrier for the rains traveling from the west. Just a few miles from the city we found ourselves in the wilderness of the desert. These aren’t the deserts I recall from schoolbooks or movies. These are towering, seemingly-barren hills that stretch as far as the eye can see. It was into this wilderness that the Gospel writers say Jesus was driven after his Baptism.
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff comfort me." (Ps. 23:4)
"At once the Spirit drove him out into the desert and he remained in the desert for forty days, tempted by Satan. He was among wild beasts, and the angels ministered to him." (Mk. 1:12-13)
What is it about the human need to get away, to flee into the wild in order to contemplate reality? After witnessing the “four sights,” the Gautama Buddha escaped his palace of privilege and entered the wilderness where he contemplated the nature of suffering, its cause and the path to liberation from it. After the revelation that he is “God’s beloved son, with whom God is well pleased,” Jesus also sought clarity of mission in the wilderness. He wandered among the wild beasts for forty days while contemplating his mission and rebuking the temptation to reject God’s Will for him. And just a few decades after Theodore Ratisbonne wrote about the “three books;” naturalists like John Muir came home to the Wild, where Nature became his great teacher and revealed the Mind of God.
Listening to the silence of the desert that day brought to life the Psalms for me as I imagined shepherds like young David watching over his sheep in solitude for days on end. While our group gazed across the endless wilderness, our tour guide read from the prophet Isaiah whose words would later be echoed by John the Baptist proclaiming "metanoia."
“A voice proclaims: In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God! Every valley shall be lifted up, every mountain and hill made low; The rugged land shall be a plain, the rough country, a broad valley.” (Is. 40:3-4)
From a distance the vastness of the desert appears barren. But when I entered into the desert I found life. Even today the desert outside Jerusalem is home to goats, wild and domesticated, and the the Bedouin shepherds who care for them. A father and his children carefully displayed their wares, hoping to trade with us. Many in our group were concerned for the young Bedouin children. Their poverty saddened us and we wondered if they had enough to eat or whether they should be in school? The paradox of being drawn to “civilization” on the one hand, and the desperate desire to escape it on the other became apparent as I watched the loving father with his children. As a person who is regularly itching for the outdoors, who loves camping and laying in my hammock under the redbud tree in my backyard, I wasn’t so certain that these Bedouin children were in need of our pity. The wilderness to which we escape in hopes of experiencing the Divine – they call “home.”
An Oasis in the Desert
We then traveled further below sea level (1,388 feet to be exact), far from the heights of Jerusalem to the national park in the En Gedi. Wild goats welcomed us. Our path was flanked by lush greenery in an oasis that is fed by an unexpected waterfall descending onto the valley floor. After a morning in the hot desert sun and a turbulent bus ride, I was nauseous and felt faint. When we reached the waterfall I instinctually blessed my head and neck with its cool water. Then I stood back and took in the majesty that rose above me. While others in our group took out their cameras to capture the miracle, I struggled to restrain myself and let the mystery be for a few moments longer. The images I eventually captured with my camera cannot do justice to the waterfall’s beauty and the grace it brought; but my mind’s eye can still recall it as I sit here and sip my water in the dry, Jerusalem air.
"David's Waterfall" in the En Gedi Nature Reserve.
We moved on to the excavated site at Qumran where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found in 1946 by a young Bedouin boy playing in the caves. Much is still being debated among scholars, but most agree that the early, first century Qumran community were Jews who fled the profane city of Jerusalem and escaped into the wild to encounter God. Some scholars believe they were one of several Jewish sectarians who protested the political and material corruption that had grown up around Temple worship.
In the desert they feasted on the Word of God and bathed in the ritual waters they captured from the winter rains that slowly make their way down the mountain to the desert valley below. Only a few meters away from the salty Dead Sea, these ancient people spent their days copying down Scripture onto scrolls and purifying themselves in the mikvah waters that were central to their religious piety. Under the hot sun, and with no trace of the natural oasis on my now dry clothes, I envied the Qumran people and their ritual baths that today are only ruins of a man-made oasis in the desert. Our day in the wilderness ended with a trip to the Dead Sea, a constant neighbor to our trek across the desert floor. Although a sight to see and feel, the Dead Sea’s soupy, warm, hypersaline water could not quench my thirst. The Wilderness had drained me and I was eager to return to society. A relaxing weekend waited for me at Ecce Homo before hitting the road again the following week on pilgrimage to the Galilee.
A cave where the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered.
A view of the Dead Sea from the ruins of Qumran.
On the road again
Like the Wilderness, the Road is another setting that stimulates transformation of the soul. "On the road" is where so many have gained new perspective…and found themselves. Stepping onto the bus outside the gates of the Old City I called to mind images of the “road” described in literature and song. I thought about the road trips that have marked the many beginnings and endings in my life. I thought about the road trips with my husband and how the road easily became "home" simply because we were traveling it together.
Perhaps the Road offers the “change of scenery” necessary to continue growing in our humanity. The Road changes our perspective, allows for the kind of metanoia that is proclaimed by the voice in the Wilderness. It is on the road that the Samaritan man became “neighbor” to his enemy. It is on the road to Emmaus where two disciples, trying to make sense of the injustice they had just witnessed, turned to God's Word, broke it and shared it. It is on the road to Damascus where Paul was blinded by Love and was transformed. It is on the road to Caesarea Philippi where Jesus asks his disciples “who do you say that I am?”
On Tuesday we hit the road for the Galilee. It was the second day of Rosh Hashanah, the New Year and the beginning of the Jewish High Holy days. How appropriate also that this year, the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi also fell on this day. The New Year festival celebrates God’s creation of the universe and God’s “kingship” over all things. With Creation on my mind, it was a wonderful time to begin our week of travel and reflection in the beautiful Galilean countryside.
The Galilee isn’t a city, but rather a region where flora and fauna thrive, and underground waters miraculously spring up from a rocky terrain. The Gospel tradition tells that Jesus’ ministry began here as he traveled the roads to and from the villages inhabiting this pastoral setting. It is easy to see how Jesus came to know God along these roads. I was amazed at the landscape where the Jesus Movement took root and captured the imagination of the first disciples! We drove just a few hours from Jerusalem to arrive at the clear waters of the Sea of Galilee. Not technically a sea, it is a body of fresh water teeming with fish and surrounded by lush prairie, fruitful orchards, and thriving towns. The large lake and its congregation are hugged by the rolling hills that surround them.
Kibbutz farms dot the plains, watered by the Israeli-invented "drip irrigation" system.
Sea of Galilee in the early morning.
View from the holy site commemorating the Sermon on the Mount.
The central role that the Lake of Gennesaret (a.k.a. Sea of Galilee) plays in this paradise setting cannot be overstated. Although our four-day pilgrimage took place in the dry season, when the ground still awaited the winter rains, the Galilean countryside brimmed with life. A few weeks from now, during the festival of Sukkot, Jews will pray for the rains to come. And when they arrive in mid to late October, the hills of Galilee will bloom.
The Sea of Galilee is approximately 13 miles long and 8 miles wide, with a circumference of 33 miles. It was along its shores that a man named Jesus encountered ordinary people in their every-day lives. It was on the roads of Galilee that he traveled from town to town, offering words of healing. It was among these hills and valleys where crowds gathered to hear this itinerant preacher speak. It was in its houses and synagogues – the ruins of which our group saw with our own eyes – that he taught as one with authority.
Galilean fishermen coming into harbor after a night of fishing.
This place, the Galilean countryside, is a sharp contrast to the desert outside of Jerusalem that we visited the week prior. I used to think that Jesus came from a secluded, small town – that he was a “country bumpkin” so to speak. And perhaps compared to the big city of Jerusalem, Jericho or Bethsaida, he was. But much of our time in the Galilee was actually spent visiting the many archeological sites of first century towns. We stopped in Nazareth, Magdala, Caesarea Philippi, ancient Dan, Capernaum, Tabgha and Zippori. The close proximity of these ancient cities and their diverse populations told a much different story of Jesus’ upbringing and his ministry on the road. I imagined Jesus walking along the shores of the lake and chatting with the fishermen as they brought their boats in at sunrise. I imagined him befriending some of them and being invited to join them on their trip out to sea. I imagined Jesus telling sea stories that offered comfort through the long, dark, laborious night of fishing. I imagined him inviting the fishermen to become fishers of men. I imagined them walking along together from town to town with moments of silence between them, stopping to rest under the shade of the olive and pomegranate trees that still grow along the side of the road.
The only first century boat from the Sea of Galilee known to exist and discovered in 1986.
Biblical Formation group (English) from Ecce Homo.
Leave no trace
One of many aspects to my Galilean pilgrimage that I don't discuss here are our visits to the holy sites commemorating the traditional locations attributed to important biblical events. These sites no longer resemble the moments that they commemorate, but have long since become destinations in themselves. Churches have been built upon churches built upon churches built upon churches. I had mixed feelings about these sacred spaces that throbbed with pilgrims and tourists. For the most part, the tourists were respectful of the meaning attributed to these places of worship. However, with people come concrete, trash, and signs that say “stay off the grass.” I longed for the Wild. I wondered...why are we pilgrims not as offended by the desecration of nature as we are by the desecration of our houses of worship?
Photo credit: Joe Payne
1st century ruins of Capernaum. This is where the Gospels say Jesus made his home and healed the paralytic man that was lowered from the roof of a house. (Mk. 2:1-12).
Pilgrims
Church of the Beatitudes near Tabgha and Capernaum, Israel.
My trek into the Wild these past weeks were opportunities for me to more readily remain in the present moment and contemplate God. But at the pilgrim sites where civilization holds a tight grip on memory, I found my mind wandering and it was difficult to focus on the Scripture passages our group leader asked us to reflect upon. Recalling the ruins of the ancient Galilean villages we visited, I wondered…what will we modern humans leave behind in these spaces? What scars will the Wilderness carry?
The first century historian, Josephus describes the Galilee this way. “Skirting the lake of Gennesar [Sea of Galilee], and also bearing that name, lies a region whose natural properties and beauty are very remarkable. There is not a plant which its fertile soil refuses to produce, and its cultivators in fact grow every species; the air is so well-tempered that it suits the most opposite varieties.” Other ancient sources speak of the “sweet water” of the Sea of Galilee, now made undrinkable by pollution.
Photo credit: Joe Payne
The human-caused pollution of the earth, the unrestrained use of natural resources, the belief that we have dominion “over” other creatures…these are all counter to the Gospel of Creation Pope Francis proclaims in his encyclical Laudato Si. He calls for a reconciliation between human beings and nature.
"When we speak of the environment, what we really mean is a relationship existing between nature and the society which lives in it. Nature cannot be regarded as something separate from ourselves or as a mere setting in which we live. We are part of nature, included in it and thus in constant interaction with it. Recognizing the reasons why a given area is polluted requires a study of the workings of society, its economy, its behaviour patterns, and the ways it grasps reality." (No. 139)
Next week Jews will celebrate Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. On this day people will seek forgiveness from God and from the people they have sinned against throughout the year. For my part, I will ask forgiveness from the Wild Things and seek reconciliation.
Mount Hermon waterfall.