December 1932
504
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
A W A L K to C^^eilileLetn Escorted by a Student of the Land and of the Boo\
B y HERBERT H. TAY San Dimas, Calif.
Keystone View Co.
THE BAZAAR OF BETHLEHEM
The plain which our road traverses gradually rises to ward the south, and at length, after a walk o f about two and a half miles* we come to its highest point, from which we have a most inspiring view of the surrounding country. Toward the north, the narrow ribbon of rbad over which we have come wends its way between low, loose-rock walls until it slips through the “ Needle’s Eye” of the Jaffa Gate and disappears. Above the turreted walls of the Holy City, the sky is pierced by the spike-like minarets of the mosques. Between them may be seen the shining dome of the so-called “ Mosque of Omar.” It stands upon the site of the ancient temple, and we can well imagine that Joseph and Mary looked back upon it with reverence as they stood upon this spot almost two thousand years ago. Immediately to the east of the city rises the rounded dome of the Mount of. Olives, while far to the north upon the horizon, the buildings o f the village that once was Mizpeh of old can faintly be discerned. As we turn toward the east, we gasp in amazement at the spectacle before us. The hills upon which we are stand ing seem to break away in serrated waves of wild and pre cipitous declivities which end in an awful gorge that seems to penetrate to the very bowels of the earth. At the bottom o f this trench, almost thirteen hundred feet below the level of the Mediterranean, can be seen the gleaming blue waters of the Dead Sea, shimmering in the morning sunlight. Beyond the sea, softened by the purple haze of distance, the mountains of Moab rise in a blank and forbid ding wall. Between us and the sea is a scene of wild deso lation. Not a tree can be seen. The hills are barren and desolate and are cut by innumerable dry, rocky water courses. In the daytime, the sun glares down mercilessly upon the weary traveler, while at night, the air is rent by the shrill cries of wild beasts. There is no more depressing sight in all Palestine than this barren stretch of God-for saken country. It is the Wilderness of Judaea. Before we continue our walk to Bethlehem, let us look toward the south and west. How different this region is from that upon which we have just been looking! The summits of the rocky hills are softened by the silvery sheen of the leaves of olive trees. Here and there can be seen little patches of cultivated ground among the trees. The principal crop is grain, but occasionally one sees a vine yard. The hillsides are dotted here and there with little villages, the walls and dome-shaped roofs of the houses
e t h l e h e m ! What a host of memories and emotions that name stirs within our breasts! The watching shep herds, the angelic message, the guiding star, the virgin mother, the Son of God—all these memories flood our minds and swell our hearts until the^Christmas season is, to us, the most blessed season of all the year. How we wish we could have been there on that first Christmas E ve! How thrilling it would have been to be a part of the mill ing throngs which surged back and forth in the streets of the City of David that memorable night! I f only we could h&ve been in the .field with the shepherds and gone with them to the manger cradle, what spiritual rapture would have been ours! But the first Christmas has passed, and it can live for us only in memory. Yet it is possible to visit the site of the Saviour’s birth, and to look upon many of the same scenes which the holy family witnessed over nineteen hundred years ago. Through the providence of God, the Holy Land has changed very little since that day. It has been inhabited by a people who have cared little for modern mechanical progress, and who have been content to live in the same way as have their ancestors for countless generations. They look like the people who lived in the days of our Lord. They think the same, they act the same, and they have left many of the sacred spots just the same as they were then. Let us then walk to the Bethlehem of today, which so much resembles the Bethlehem of yesterday, and let the message of God in the roads and the hills and the houses and the trees speak to us of that happy event of long ago. We begin our walk at Jerusalem, and traverse the path along which the Galilean carpenter and his virgin wife walked in the days of old. The Jaffa Gate, through which we make our way, pierces the gray city walls on the west ward side. We follow the road down across the Valley of Hinnom, and out upon the slightly rolling plain that stretches away to the south toward Bethlehem. The fields on each side, barren and rocky during the summer and fall, are now becoming softened by the tender springing grass. Here and there a scattered olive tree breaks the monotony of the landscape, and along the roadside, the early winter flowers are beginning to lend their color to the scene. The pungent odor of the earth dampened by the recent rains, and the welcome warmth of the winter sun shining from a cloud-fleckled, azure sky quicken our spirits and fill us with the joy of living.
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