While studying at JUC we did a hike down the Ascent of Adumim, the road Jesus talks about in his parable of the good Samaritan. That hike was enormously insightful into how the robber could have been lying in wait for the man, as well as what it would mean for the others to pass by on “the other side of the road.” The other day, I hiked the road again, but this time from right near the top of the hike (as opposed to the last sixth we did through the school). The hike begins at a beautiful spring, randomly bubbling out in the middle of the desert, and goes 15 miles to the city of Jericho. The first few miles are spent walking through the stream created by the spring. The land is such an amazing contrast along the way: barren, rough mountains running high on either side of the valley, and a cool, green stream running along the bottom. There are waterfalls, pools, fish, enormous reeds – everything you might expect from a small river. The pools feel great to swim in when there is a blazing sun beating down on you at 100 plus degrees.
After about seven miles, however, the water disappears and desert takes full control of the valley. Then there is 100 degrees of sun, only without any water for relief. I took 2 liters of water with me for the hike, thinking it would last me through the ride back to Jerusalem as well. Instead, it lasted me through about half the trip before I had to begin seriously rationing my water so I wouldn't run out and become dehydrated. The desert hike was comfortable at first, even without the pools of water along the way. But the comfortableness of the hike soon wore off as I my feet began to ache from the rocky path and my eyes grew tired of constant sun (cataracts from the intensity of the sun is a widespread problem among the Bedouin and Arab peoples here in Israel). As I walked, I slowly began to realize just how idealized my initial impression of the difficulty of the wilderness was. My mind grew tired before my legs did and my mouth was dry long before I would have expected from my hikes through the North Carolina mountains.
I have seen this roughness often these past two weeks of being here. The world here is harsh. The geography is hard: it is full of dust and rock filled roads, it is hot and dry, and there are remarkably few consistent sources of water for those who live outside the comforts of modern society. And the society is hard: so many people here are vehement about their beliefs, religiously and politically, leading to constant dispute and dissention. Having grown up in the peaceful serenity of North Carolina, I find this world abrasive to my calm way of doing life. I think I am coming to appreciate why the concepts of peace and rest were so essential within the promises that God made to the people of Israel.
Still, the roughness of life here adds a strength and richness to life. The diversity here strengthens the society, even while it undermines it.
the hike:
 | ||
|
the Judean wilderness.
in the bottom of the picture you can see the trail I hiked down into the wadi (valley)
|
1 comment:
it seems that visibility of meaning is increased with contrast.
Post a Comment