Dead Sea mud and Jesus stuff

Forgive my feigned nonchalance in the title of this post. It was our joke of the morning, but we were humbled by afternoon. Read on to find out what I mean. Forgive me also for the extraordinary length of this post, and I hope you can find the time to read the whole thing because this was an exceptional day and I could talk about it for thousands more words, but I saved you from that fate.

After a good night’s sleep, we asked for a late morning pickup so we could go down to the Dead Sea and play in the water. Though the temperature was in the 50s when we left Dana the day before, it was back in the 80s. A swim would feel great. In fact, we could hardly wait, and were down there in the water before breakfast.

Being in the water reminded me immediately of the sensory deprivation tank, only this water was more than one foot deep and in bright daylight outside. Margaret and I bobbed to the top, and had to spend several minutes getting used to the feeling and learning how to manage our bodies in the water. It was impossible to swim like I usually do, but easy to swim once you figured out how to do it. Dog paddling was most effective for me. The saltwater concentration is so intense that you can float without any effort whatsoever. The water always wanted to bob me to the top and roll me over so my face was down, and it was tricky getting myself to stay butt down. I laid with my head back and relaxed into the water. Margaret found that using one of the styrofoam floats as a neck rest was handy for keeping her ears and face out of the water. I spent a huge amount of effort figuring out how to keep myself treading water with feet below my shoulders. I had to be perfectly balanced or I would tip over and my butt would bob up into the air! Not very graceful, I have to say.

We got out, showered most of the salt off, and went to breakfast. Margaret used the blow-drier and I wore a headscarf. Wet hair on women is apparently inappropriately sexually suggestive in Jordan. It’s like arguing that a wet cat is cuter. Religious rules often don’t make any sense to me. Over breakfast we talked about the touring plans for the day. Ezat, also a Mormon like his brother Nashat, would again be collecting us and taking us to tourist sites. He sometimes has a hard time explaining in English things that he’s not used to talking about. He had tried a couple of times to ask if we knew the story about Moses and a stick and a snake, and asked if we knew that Jesus was baptized. I was raised fully immersed in Christianity, but only barely recalled the details of these stories. I am atheist and am not in Jordan for any religious reason. Margaret is Christian, but not particularly devout. Between the three of us, we couldn’t tell any part of the relevant Biblical stories. So we had just been referring to our touring today as “Going to see Jesus stuff.” As in, “After we’re done with the Jesus stuff, do you want to stop by a market?”

After breakfast we went right back down to the water and tried on the supposedly therapeutic Dead Sea Mud. Staff manually digs it out of the water at the shore, then hauls it up the beach to fill sinks on the beach, so that it’s very easy to apply your own mud. We walked around feeling slightly ridiculous and conscious of how much it looked like black face. Then we awkwardly bobbed in the water again. Though we tourists were from different places around the world, we were all experiencing the same thing, and shared many laughs at each others’ expense.

Ezat picked us up at noon and unlike the day before, we were very soon at our first tour stop of the day, the site of Jesus’s baptism by John {Luke 3:21-23}. The area is fiercely protected as a spiritual and natural resource. This area in which Moses wandered is referred to as a “wilderness” in the Bible, and Jordanians want it to remain a wilderness. (Muslims believe that Jesus was a prophet, and honor him) Visitors park on the edge, and take official tour busses into the park. This time we paid for a guided tour and suddenly had to deal with things we hadn’t had to deal with on this trip: keeping together in a large group, and forced shopping stops.  Our first stop was a gift shop and I was thoroughly amused by it. But seriously, we were both impatient to go see the thing, whatever the thing was.

At long last we began walking. It was quite a walk despite having ridden a tour bus to get this far. It is clear that this is a highly protected site. We had passed high, imposing fences on the way in, topped with razor wire and every so often, a guard tower. We weren’t sure if the military presence was related to the tourist attraction.

On the way I spotted crepuscular rays shooting down to light up the golden dome of a church ahead of us. It was like I was being sent a message: “Ok, time to drop the jocularity. You are now approaching an important site.”

At the first stop I understood the importance of our visit. This is the location of Jesus of Nazareth’s baptism by John the Baptist {Matthew 3:13}. In anticipation of Margaret’s caution, there was a pamphlet available that listed all the written references in the past 2000 years that specifically describe landmarks to help identify the precise location of the baptism of Jesus Christ. I am convinced, but then, I’m eager to believe in a legend. That’s my personality.

I’m an atheist, but I believe Jesus was a man who lived and taught and completely disrupted the corrupt political and social and religious status quo, and for that I love him. Also, he seems like an overall good dude, putting humility and love above all else. Teaching clearly over and over and over not to judge others who are different: Something that Christians (hell, all religions) are famous for ignoring. He fought for authenticity at all levels, and he was brave enough to speak the truth to authority.

So anyhooo… you bet I was excited to see an actual place where the actual man had been in real life; to see the location of the beginning of his mission and the beginning of Christianity as I know it today.

I couldn’t help but think: he stood right there. He looked around and saw the same ridgetops that I see, the same kinds of trees, these very stones. History in the US can barely be called history, compared to other places in the world.

You’ll notice there is no water between the four pillars today. The course of the River Jordan has shifted in the last 2000 years. It’s an earthquake-prone region, which may have affected this. The river is much smaller than it was then. And we all know that over time, rivers frequently shift their course.

We walked the path you see there on the right, all the way to the back of the remains of the Basilica, and were able to see the foundations of the other churches that had been here, and were able to walk up the steps on the other side, and enter the Basilica that is today protected by a wooden roof. Some of the original stone walls and columns can still be seen. There are also the remains of mosaic tile floors. The Basilica was built on top of the Church of St. John the Baptist, which was built in approximately 500 CE.

When we were done looking at the ruins, it was time to walk to the river. This ended up being one of the most dramatic scenes of our entire trip. I stood on the river bank and was struck by multiple profound discoveries.

First of all, the river is about 30 feet wide and tourists from the West Bank were approaching as we were. Only their approach was three times grander, with marble and stainless steel railings and paved steps into the water. There was landscaping with flowers and palm trees, and a visitor’s center. By contrast, we had approached on a dirt trail that entered a wooden platform with wooden plank steps into the river water, covered by a wooden awning. It was about half the size of my back deck. Those on the other side were not protecting the wilderness aspect of the sacred site, and the wealth discrepancy was glaring. There were three times as many people on the other side. What really startled me was to look into the faces of those people – so close I could see their expressions – and to know it was another country. No wall, no fence, just a river. I could swim to Palestine in 5 minutes. THAT explained the military presence we had noticed earlier. And yes, here in our wooden shelter sat at least two armed military men with no sense of humor. Another simple, quiet thought to myself was that I recognized the look of the river from picture books of Bible stories from when I was a child. 50 years ago, publishers paid much less attention to authenticity, and yet, the rushes drawn at the water’s edge in Bible stories of this region were so accurately portrayed that when I visited the place for the first time, I recognized it.

After we left the water, I got some good shots of the new church built at the site. Imagine how long it has been since there was a church here. Today’s church will have a difference in attendance since it is within a protected area.

We met up with Ezat again and he said he would be taking us to Mt. Nebo next. The name didn’t mean anything to us but Margaret and I have great spirit of adventure and a willingness to see what happens. We cheerfully said, “Lead on!”

This site is not a boundary nor controlled by the military, and access was easier and cheaper. We came across a guide who was speaking English, and we lingered around him. We had missed the main point somewhere, and Margaret expressed out loud, “What was Moses doing on Mt. Nebo anyway?!” A woman nearby overheard her and said in a somewhat incredulous voice, “This is where he saw the Promised Land!” {Deuteronomy 34:1} The story of Moses and his people wandering in the wilderness is also described in the Qur’an. {5:20-26} We walked to the top of the hill and could see for miles around, though still the hazy skies shrouded what is nothing less than a spectacular view on clearer days.

The church on Mt. Nebo is a brilliant design to incorporate a museum of ruins, while maintaining it’s integrity and function as an indoor church. It’s spectacularly done. No guides are allowed to speak inside, and indeed a service was in session as we arrived. All visitors maintained quiet respect while we were there. What you see is the remains of a 4th century Byzantine Church built in honor of the place of Moses’ death. You see, though he spotted the destination for his people from here, Moses was not allowed to go, and died there. {Deuteronomy 34:4-6} In order to protect the ruins, platforms are built to keep our feet above the surface, and railings are built to keep our fingers off the walls and columns. I have been especially admiring mosaics during this entire trip, and this day I was dumbfounded. Speechless in awe. I know I will probably never see mosaics like this again in my lifetime.

Outside again, we took advantage of our perspective and took sunset photos across the Dead Sea. It had been a fulfilling and awe-inspiring day and we were ready to go back to Amman. Ezat took us to our final hotel of the trip, and we were delighted to meet Nashat there again! A reunion! While Margaret got online to check the latest news of the Kincade Fire, I had Nashat explain to me in detail how to find a restaurant he recommended for very good authentic Jordanian food. We said goodbye to the brothers and walked through the night to the restaurant, which was indeed very good.