The Israel Experience, Part 4: A baptist and a scholar?

After two nights on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, which sits at nearly 600 feet below Sea-Level, our tour turned southward. We would follow the flow of the Jordan River, which travels from north to south, out of the very low Sea of Galilee and into the lowest land on the planet: the Dead Sea. The day’s journey is slated to end in another Israeli resort on that southern sea’s shores.


It is the Jordan River that the Israelites crossed to enter the Promised Land I now tour. It was in the Jordan River that John the Baptist stood as he called Israelites to repent and turn back to God’s ways of justice, love, mercy, and peace. It was John to whom Jesus came to officially start his ministry.


Baptism, I learned, is a Jewish ritual at heart. To purify themselves, the Jews would walk into a pool of water (they constructed these regularly, if you see one you can act smart: it’s called a mikvah), fully submerge themselves in it, and arise with the sin symbolically washed from their bodies. John (and others like him) took this ritual into the slow moving waters of the Jordan. Because Jesus did it to start his ministry, many Christians now count baptism in the Jordan as a key part of the pilgrimage back to this holy land.


I, on the other hand, was baptized in the exotic Cherry Knolls swimming pool in 2002. That water had the exact same effect as the water flowing through the Jordan, and God made that clear to me before I arrived. The work of Christ had been accomplished in me. With that in one hand and my "profession" as a Pastor in the other, I found myself in a very honored position at the Jordan: I baptized three people! For me, this felt a key part of my own pilgrimage. In some of the holiest moments of my life, God has called me to serve as a mediator, a priest, so others can enter his presence. The role is a priceless gift.



So there I stood with two other pastors and a willing traveler, and we took turns submerging people in the authority of the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. It was a holy moment indeed. All the while, little fish swam around my feet, periodically nibbling on my skin. It didn’t hurt, and no one there knew it. But I am now aware of a new capability I have to submerge (hmmm, that’s what the word "baptism" means) my own panic… I think I prefer swimming pools, for next time.




We journeyed on. The land outside the bus went from green to brown to the yellow-brown of desert sand. The rolling hills of Galilee became sharp mountains. The air grew hotter. Our bus took a turn up a steep hill, and we pulled into a parking lot at the base of a site called Qumran. From the edge of the hills, we could see the bright blue, green, and white of the Dead Sea. With our backs to it, the well preserved ruins of the Essenes, a Jewish sect full of devoted scribes who—out of devotion to God—separated from society to await the messiah. When their caves were discovered in 1947, scholars came upon what we now can recognize as the miraculous provision of God: the manuscripts of the Old Testament match those found all over the Middle East and North Africa to the 99th percentile. In other words, they presented the best proof we have that the scriptures are genuine, not made up for political gain.


Mickey lamented that most people dislike the visit to Qumran. It is hot. It isn’t in the Bible. But it shows the devotion of the Jewish people and the hand of God to preserve his scriptures: it must not be poo-pooed! If I was ever glad to be something of a "scholar" on this trip, it was here. I found myself thanking God for the many excellent OT professors I’ve had: Drs. Nelson, Longman, and Hess especially. In the picture, I'm standing across a canyon from "Cave 4," where hundreds of fragments were found, especially a huge scroll with most of Isaiah written on it.




Late that night, hot and sticky from the many desert sites we walked around, we pulled into a luxury resort that overlooked the Dead Sea. This body of water has in it 10 times the salt concentration of the major oceans. Therefore, nothing can live in it. Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Revelation (to name a few) speak of the days of culmination, when the Messiah will return (that is when Jesus will return) and a spring will burst forth from the Temple in Jerusalem and flow into the Dead Sea, turning it to fresh water. What is now dead will begin to teem with life.

Until then, swimming in the Dead Sea is one of the strangest physical experiences imaginable: the salt is so concentrated that the water is more condensed than human flesh. In other words, when I leaned back in the hot water (at 11pm), I floated. So did everyone else. For the first time since 4am on the first day, I felt like I really was on another planet.


Fantasy becomes reality: while I floated, a tiny drop lept happily from the calm surface of the water into my eye, and I was back to earth. Just try it: pour an entire salt-shaker into a glass of warm water, mix it up, and drop a tiny bit in your eye. OR, don’t, and just take my word for it: O MY DEAR MERCY, DOES THAT EVER HURT. So much for submerging my panic. And thank God for people with foresight, who installed fresh-water showers right there on the beach, so visitors don’t go blind. Cue another realization that I’m traveling alone: no one to laugh at me, no one to help. Just a wet, salty American stumbling quickly with one eye tightly shut across a rocky beach in the dark. How nice.