Wednesday, January 19, 2011

A Study in Contrasts; A Lesson in Priorities

Well, when I started this blog I had every intention of adding a new post every day, but between a very full schedule and a bout with illness I just haven't gotten it done.  So here's a quick summary of the last three days, before I head out for another adventure.

On Sunday (as you know if you've read my previous entry) we went south to En Gedi, then the Dead Sea and the Qumran site (where the Dead Sea scrolls were discovered), then to Jericho.  At the Dead Sea I was one of only two in our whole tour group to take a dip -- or maybe I should say "a float" in the water.  You've probably read that humans can't sink in the Dead Sea; there's just too much salt and other minerals to make it possible.  An upside of this is that the mud at the shore of the Dead Sea is so laden with minerals that it's harvested and marketed as a beauty treatment known as (this is creative!) "Dead Sea Mud".  Of course, you don't have to buy it if you can just smear yourself in it right at the seaside, as several enthusiastic tourists were doing when we were there.  (see below)

Dead Sea mud bath

The downside to all this is that nothing can live in the Dead Sea because, being 1,200 feet below sea level, it has no outlet.  What a contrast to the next day when we traveled north to the Sea of Galilee, now known as Lake Kinnereth. 


The Sea of Galilee as seen from the Mount of the Beatitudes

Unlike the Dead Sea it's teeming with life, which makes me think of a poem I first read many years ago entitled, "Two Seas in Palestine".  The version I found today is attributed to Gayle Erwin.  In case you haven't read it before, here it is.

There are two seas in Palestine. One is fresh, and fish are in it. Splashes of green adorn its banks. Trees spread their branches over it and stretch out their thirsty roots to sip of its healing waters. Along its shores the children play, as children played when He was there. He loved it. He could look across its silver surface when He spoke His parables. And on a rolling plain not far away He fed five thousand people.  The River Jordan makes this sea with sparkling water from the hills. So it laughs in the sunshine. And men build their houses near to it, and birds their nests; and every kind of life is happier because it is there.

The River Jordan flows on south into another sea. Here is no splash of fish, no fluttering leaf, no song of birds, no children's laughter. Travelers choose another route, unless on urgent business. The air hangs heavy above its water, and neither man nor beast nor fowl will drink.

What makes this mighty difference in these neighbor seas? Not the river Jordan. It empties the same good water into both. Not the soil in which they lie not the country about.

This is the difference. The Sea of Galilee receives but does not keep the Jordan. For every drop that flows into it another drop flows out. The giving and receiving go on in equal measure.  The other sea is shrewder, hoarding its income jealously. It will not be tempted into any generous impulse. Every drop it gets, it keeps.  The Sea of Galilee gives and lives. This other sea gives nothing. It is named The Dead.  

There are two seas in Palestine.  There are two kinds of people in the world.

* * * * * * * * * *

Yesterday (Tuesday) we went to the Temple Mount, where I was overwhelmed with the convergence of Jewish, Muslim and Christian influence.  Again, there's a fragile co-existence there that's hard to describe, so right now I won't attempt it.  Nor will I try to put in words what I experienced as I prayed at the Western Wall, which is the only part of the original Jewish Temple wall still in existence (actually, it's called "The Second Temple"), at least above ground.  The rest of it was all destroyed by the Romans when they moved in to crush the Jewish revolt in 70 A.D. 


As I joined with people of many faiths in praying at the wall, then moved to the other part of the Temple excavations, where a massive pile of stones that were thrown down by the Romans are still lying in silent witness, I couldn't help but hear Jesus' response to the disciples when they were walking on the Temple grounds one day and one of them blurted out, "Look, Teacher, what marvelous buildings and stones!"

Jesus responded, "You see these stones?  I tell you not one of them will be left upon another."

Perhaps every building committee meeting ought to start with those words, lest we get our priorities tragically out of place.

Praying at the Western Wall of the Temple


"Not one stone will be left upon another."

1 comment:

  1. your pictures are gorgeous, Dad.
    as are your reflections, but as usual, you know me: i would like to hear/know so much more! am looking forward to catching up with you in person : ) keep up the blog!

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