Travel Biography - Week 7.

My visit to the fortress sitting over the Cave of Machpelah has set my faith in the historicity of the Bible in stone. I could add that I now personally refer to this edifice as The Stone Bible, as its floor covers the Biblical cave that contains the bones of three men and their wives, the Hebrew patriarchs who were the founders of the nation of Israel, and whose ground it now stands as a sentinel, witnessing to the rest of the world of the Covenant God made with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that He would give this land on which it stands to their descendants.

Dead Sea Bathing.

But our journey didn't end there. Before setting off in the first place, Abed my host and a self-made guide, asked if I would like to have a dip in the Dead Sea. Indeed, I was keen. A Sherut escorted us from Hebron to drop us off at a beach on the northern tip of the Dead Sea, or the Hebrew, Yam HaMelakh (Sea of Salt) or the Arabic, Bahr Lut (Sea of Lot) is actually an elongated lake some 295 metres below sea level, nestling within the Great Rift Valley, approximately a 4,000-mile, 6,500 km long crack in the Earth between Syria and Mozambique, caused by the movement of two continental plates.

Floating in the Dead Sea, stock photo.

Abed and I arrived at a beach resort in Kalia, on the northern end of the lake and near the international border with Jordan. As with Bethlehem and Hebron, the lake's western side is in the West Bank territory, which continues southwards until just north of Masada and the start of the Negev Desert. Here, the Israel/West Bank boundary swings eastwards to end at the international boundary with Jordan, cutting the lake into two territorial halves and extending to the northern tip of the Red Sea, just east of the resort of Eilat.

I stripped to my swimming trunks and waded into the saline water. At Kalia, the beach sloped very gently into the lake and had to wade up between fifty and a hundred metres to reach chest depth. But once at that spot, I felt as if I was pushed up by the density of the oily water and I was able to lie on my back as if lying on a soft mattress.

A little of the water managed to get into my eyes, and they burned severely for a short while. Likewise, any drop entering my mouth burned my tongue. This was due to the high 25% salination of the water that has made the lake uninhabitable to any aquatic life, whether it'll be fish or crustaceans. It's this which gives the sea its uniqueness. Somewhat unlike the aptly-named Salt Lake in Utah, I visited a year later in 1977. This American lake with the world's second highest saline content was the home of countless tiny shrimps.

The heavy air that hung over the Dead Sea was also totally silent and calm. There was no usual sound of human activity that characterises the beach of a typical holiday resort. Instead, this beach was all but deserted, the silence of death hung over the calm, saline water, and the hot sun beat down.

Jericho.

After the swim, I donned my shirt after a cool, freshwater shower. Then the two of us began to make our way by sherut to our final stop, Jericho, or at least the ancient ruins.

The site covers a small area, itself on a high mound known as Tell. Characteristic of many sites of ancient cities in the Middle East, as a new city was built directly over an older one without any demolishing in between, some of the buildings slowly crumbled to form a solid mound, basically a man-made hill or tell rising from either a natural rise or otherwise a flat plain.

Jericho lies nearly 15 miles or 24 km northeast of Jerusalem and holds the longstanding Biblical story of how Joshua ordered his army to march once around the city for six days. On the seventh day, the army then marched around the outside of the city seven times before the walls of the city fell on themselves, allowing the Israelites to run into it and set the city on fire. Whether marching around the perimeter of the settlement 13 times in a week had any geologic effect or not, the fact that how a brisk walk around the outside of its walls could have been possible was confirmed by the overall size of the entire site. It was no larger than Trafalgar Square in London, typical of any Canaanite city-state in this part of the world, each settlement having had its own "king" or chief, and a formidable army. Unfortunately, I didn't see any remains of such a fallen wall. Neither had the archaeologist ever seen it, thus to them, throwing doubt on the historicity of the Bible.

Abed and I stood on a raised walkway and I was able to look down into the site. The most outstanding ruin was that of a tower, believed to be Neolithic. According to the secular archaeologist, that is around 7,000-8,000 BC. Back in 1976, as I stood on the walkway, I could see a small doorway leading into the tower, hinting that the structure was hollow and could accommodate people. However, according to more recent photography, this cavity has now been walled up. As for the fallen walls of Joshua's day, unbelievers use its absence to justify their fictionalising of the Bible. Yet I ponder. Why should the rubble last so long without crumbling into dust or the building blocks ransacked by pillagers? Or even recycled when the city was rebuilt under King Ahab around 850 BC? The very fact that I saw the tower so perfectly intact, even now I wonder whether this structure was rebuilt around 850 BC. If so, it would fit well within Biblical chronology and also explain the rubble's disappearance.

The Tower at ancient Jericho as I saw it.

Preparing for the Journey North.

At the Spihu's home, there were times when all I wanted to do was to sit in their front yard and even watch the Arab children play in the nearby school playground. The bay outside the house was also the terminus of the local bus route, a short journey to the Arab Bus Station at Nablus Road. One afternoon, I watched Ghanem do some home plumbing work as thoroughly as any trained professional. Quite an achievement in my opinion, as the schoolboy teenager will study to become a medic in the years to come. I also had an opportunity of an experience to sleep under the stars. This was possible as all houses in Silwan were flat-roofed and surrounded by a parapet. However, in a desert environment, the night grew chilly, and I didn't sleep that well.

On another afternoon, a wedding took place among Abed's friends across the street. I was invited as a guest of honour to their reception that was held downstairs in the front yard. Here in the UK, when thinking of weddings and the reception that follows, one envisages all the men dressed in a suit and tie, coupled with the best of traditional respectability. When I was in Silwan, I saw that everyone was dressed in their normal casuals, and with me wearing just an open-collar summer shirt for a top, I fitted in well. But the reality of Biblical life drew into sharp focus when dinner had to be prepared.

A live sheep was brought into the yard, and struggling somewhat as if it knew its fate. One of the hosts then slit its throat, and the animal lay thrashing its legs as the blood flowed into a central drain, as if the opening was located specifically for the purpose. Before waiting for the sheep to take its last breath, the host then skinned it alive, the meat was then cut appropriately and roasted before serving. If the reader feels ill at ease with the way I have gone into detail, then consider how people lived daily, especially during Bible times. When pouring into the Bible, I can glibly read:

He took a sheep (or a bull) and prepared it before his guests.

But this experience has brought everything into proper focus, and as I see it, a better way to experience Biblical life rather than just read about it and then attend a theological college.

The time arrived when I wanted a bit of time on my own and to explore the Galilee region. The Spihu family was happy with me making the journey and asked if I return to them before flying back home to the UK. I agreed.

The Egged Bus departed from the Israeli bus station at Jaffa Road to make its 2.5-hour journey north, along the Jordan River, to finish at Tiberias on the west coast of the Sea of Galilee, itself about 100 miles, 164 km north of Jerusalem.  It was evening when I arrived at the main town of Galilee, with the lake so impressive as I looked east towards Syria which, in 1976, still borders much of the eastern shore before the annexation of the Golan Heights by Israel on December 14, 1981.

But I still have to look for accommodation, as I was planning to spend a week here. During my search, I came across a hospice with young Christian men milling around. Very much westernised, these believers were about my age, and I approached them to ask about where I can stay. They weren't able to accommodate me themselves but instead recommended a hotel further down the road. Soon, I found the place, Aviv Hotel, south of the town and within easy reach of all the local attractions.

I was relieved when a room was offered. Thus began my lone stay in the Galilean region. As I made my way to the gently-lapping beach of the lake, made so famous as the site of Jesus' early ministry, I just sat down and meditated in the night.

Lake Tiberias, the Sea of Galilee, the Lake Kinneret, or the Lake of Gennesaret, whatever name you choose, refers to the harp-shaped freshwater lake which is 200 metres below sea level. Its location is right at the northern tip of the Great Rift Valley, and on the far side, the mountains of Syria are clearly seen, and this view is maintained right the way through along the Jordan River, across the Dead Sea, along the edge of the Negev Desert to the Red Sea, and along the Gulf of Aqaba.  

The Sea of Galilee is fed by the northern tributary of the Jordan River which has its source in the Mt Herman area of the Golan Heights. From it flows the main Jordan River south to the Dead Sea, where the latter, without an outlet, maintains its depth through evaporation. Also, unlike the Dead Sea, Lake Kinneret is abundant with fish, of which a fishing industry thrived at the time of Jesus, and from this flotilla of boats, Jesus called at least four of his disciples - Peter, Andrew, James and John.

The Sea of Galilee.

Much of the week, I spent at Tiberias itself, just taking in the calmness of the lake. Just north of the town was the aptly named Lido Beach, and for a small fee, I was able to swim in the lake. A little distance out from the beach was a dividing wall. The area within this wall was for families with small children. Beyond the wall, a much larger area was for stronger swimmers in deeper water. And it was in this deeper water where I thoroughly enjoyed the coolness from the hot Mediterranean sunshine.

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Next Week: Capaunum and Nazareth.