The Old Fishing Boat

It was an amazing find.  Just an old nail.  Yet, it caught the attention of two brothers because it was so old. They had been born and raised in the Ginosaur Kibutz located on the northwest side of the Sea of Galilee.  The two brothers were amateur archaeologists and had always hoped for some kind of discovery.  On a hot, dry day of a summer drought when the waters of the Sea of Galilee had receded, they found an old nail cemented in the sun-dried mud of this ancient shore.  Curious, they  dug down and uncovered the top of what looked like a very old fishing boat.  They turned the find over to a credible archaeology group who carefully unearthed the mud-logged boat.  It was a twelve day project requiring skilled and volunteer help. Tests confirmed that it was indeed a 1^st century AD fishing boat. 



The fishing boat, discovered in 1986, shown with its unique

protective structure, is on display in the Yigal Allon Museum.
 

The boat had been preserved because of the mud.  However, bringing it to the surface made it vulnerable to drying and deterioration.  To protect the boat, it had to be submerged in a special acid for seven years.                                                                         

 

While no one knows whether Jesus ever was in this boat, it is unmistakably like one of the boats Jesus used any of the times he crossed the lake.  Certainly it was like the fishing boats that Andrew and Peter, James and John left to follow Jesus.

One thing I learned about Israel  is that it will always be a land of buried treasure.  We walked on top of layers of hidden civilizations.  Walking the historical paths of Israel, I learned some things about buried treasure:

·        Some treasures may never be found.

·        Buried does not mean absent.

·        Uncovering buried treasure is hard work.

·        To unbury too quickly can be destructive.

How many of us live with buried treasure.  Stories we don’t talk about.  Lessons we don’t share.  Compliments we only think. They are buried by our own negligence, silence, or fear. Just like the brothers who took an observant walk beside the mud-cracked, drought-dried shore, we need to live each day looking for evidence of treasure waiting to be found.  

Time to do some digging of our own.

The Synagogue in Capernaum

 

 

When I came upon this ancient ruin, I didn’t know for sure what I was seeing.  It looked like a bomb site strewn with rubble. Leveled buildings only a couple of rock layers high tell us where something stood but not what, at least not to untrained eyes. They were black basalt stones arranged like dominoes ready to fall.

White limestone, some rose-stained, gave clear form to a synagogue planted on a stone slab.  This structure, squared and pillared, isn’t the synagogue, the one that Jesus came to with Peter and Andrew. 


However, it is built upon the one Jesus visited and shares supporting foundation that can be identified by the black basalt stone, the most accessible building material in the area. 

 (The picture to the left shows the black stone line in contrast to the more recent limestone on top.)


What surprised me the most, what I had never known about synagogue buildings, was the way you entered the synagogue.  There are steps into the synagogue:  three very high, narrow steps.  They are so narrow that the only way to use them is to plant your feet carefully sideways.  Also, the opening into the synagogue is low so that even at 5’2” I have to bend to step in.

I found out this was not accidental construction.  For people who had lost their temple in Jerusalem, who could no longer bring their sacrifices for sin and thanks, no longer hear a priestly prayer; it seemed the synagogue was built as a prayer to God.  To enter, you had to lower your head, watch where you placed your feet, enter one at a time, and bow in prayerful reverence.  You could not run into this holy place; you could not hurry.  By design, you changed your pace and posture  to spend time with God.

I can just imagine what would happen if we re-designed our entrances this way.  Our desire for efficiency and comfort would make us revolt.  No building committee would ever sign off on such.  But what if we did it in other ways?  What if we considered coming 5 minutes earlier to take a slower walk into the building?  What if we made our drive to church the beginning of our praise, thanking God the beauty we see, the family we share, the people we love?  What if worship smiles showed on our faces as we entered our places of worship?  What if we taught our children how special this place is so that we enter with expectancy wondering what God will say to us today?

What if . . .

Dan-A Place of Disobedience and Discovery

Water.  We take it for granted.  The people of Israel never have.  Promised Land may have flowed with milk and honey, but it never flowed with easy water.  So when water gushes somewhere, it is a place of luxury in Israel.  Such is the gift from the 120 acres now reserved as Tel Dan National Park.  This rambling piece of land has the only gushing stream in Israel.  Sourced by an underground spring, it shares its precious wealth with the Jordan River.  As it does, the waters transform this area into a green and wooded land beside clear water, an oasis in the desert.

 

This is the gate that Abram may have passed through when he chased the enemies that kidnapped Lot.  The idea that Abram passed by here was an incredulous realization.  This area pre-dates Abram's story of raising up a people of God.  The stone entrance features the oldest stone arch ever unearthed.  Such history abounds here. The cover gave protection for these fragile findings, but we appreciated the little shade it gave us, as well.

But this land also tells a story that is not just filled with beauty and relics.  It reminds us why God is a jealous God and requires whole-hearted faithfulness.

 

Fast forward to the time of Judges, the time when everyone did what was right in their own eyes.  Here is where the tribe of Dan settled after they met Micah, the man with his own collection of gods.  Not only did Danites steal his idols, they stole the family-appointed priest.  Their rationalization twisted God’s plan with careless self-centeredness.  “Wouldn’t it be better to serve our clan than just your family?” And idols were there to stay.

We came to the four horns of the altar.  It looked like an iron canopy for a very large bed.  I have heard of grabbing the horns of the altar.  I always thought it was a old-time metaphor.  Not so.  The four posts were places that offered shelter.  Grab a horn of the altar and no one could touch you. The good news is that we don't have to go to Israel to find such safety!

Then, I turned to the rough stone stairs.  These led to the high place where Jereboam erected the Golden Calf.  My stomach turned at the thought.  They just couldn't get away from idols.  They wanted God’s blessings their way.  It was a different kind of worship war where personal preference brought them down. 

Perhaps, we should take note.

 

 

The Mount of Blessing

We’ve see places where the biblical story might have happened, but probably not this time.  For at least 1600 years, this is the hill where Jesus preached the sermon we love to call The Beatitudes.  This palm-studded bulge in the land is also called  the Mount of Blessing where Jesus invited people to share the blessings of the Kingdom by living the life of unexpected contrast.

Today it is a garden spot.  Green lawn.  Flowering bushes.  Regal palms.  Pathways marked by signs review the blessings one by one.  Of course there is a church here with pristine arches and a dome.  
Jesus invited the crowd to live the blessed life, but at the price of sacrifice and surrender.  It was an invitation and a calling.  It was a hearing and a seeing.

The day we walked the paths of the Mount of Blessing it was hot.  I couldn’t help but believe it was hot the day the crowd gathered to hear Jesus deliver these blessings for the first time.  And if they didn’t bring water or food, I am amazed that they listened in spite of discomfort, hunger,  and heat.

I cannot escape comparisons here.  Have we heard too much so that we listen more to our distraction that to message?  Are our standards so high, so specific that the message must be shaped and marketed to fit our needs.

But what if God has already shaped the message for us and we miss it?

The View from Mount of the Beatitudes

 
O God, take me to the Mount of Blessing every Sunday.  Clear my head of expectations preferences, and any other distraction that makes me blind and deaf as any Pharisee.  May I hear your Kingdom call, surrender to the uncomfortable contrasts, and live the life you call blessed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sea of Galilee

We took a boat ride on the Sea of Galilee. The Sea is a bowl of  fresh water set among the hills of the Jordan valley.  It is thirty-three miles around and is the largest lake in Israel.   686 feet below sea level, it is also the lowest body of freshwater on earth. The Jordan River is its source.  Underwater springs also keep it flowing.  

I shouldn't be surprised about the hotel-lined shore and sailboats on the water.  What else do people  do with a beautiful lake?  But still, this is sacred space for everyone whoever heard the life-changing words, "Follow me."  So I must push mind beyond matter to consider the meaning of this place.

 

Water shimmered like draping for a display.
Mottled land slid into the Sea.
This is where Jesus lived after cousin John was imprisoned;
Where he fed thousands on the hillside with loaves and fish--twice.
It’s where he gave a deaf man his hearing and a voice,
      where Jesus slept during a storm,
      where he walked on water,
      where he had fish on a fire waiting for unsuccessful fishermen,
      where Peter was restored,
This body of water set the scene for so much,
And sitting in a wooden boat
While a Karaoke-style ensemble
Belts out crowd-pleasing worship songs--
It is another disconnect
Where present reaches for the past
Unsuccessfully.
Still,
I sit on my white plastic chair in a boat in the middle of the Sea
And try not to see the hotels lining the shore.
Instead, I want to remember that
Here by the Sea of Galilee
Jesus called some ordinary men,
    Called them from monotony,
    Called them from what they expected to do
         for the rest of their lives.
He pulled their world apart;
Then, put it back together in a way they could not imagine.
They, who knew about nets and bait and pitch of boat
        and rhythm of waves
Would learn that the One who called them
Knew more about fishing than they did.
But Jesus called them to do their fishing on land--
    To cast a different net,
         To pull a different catch,
              And ride a different wave.

Nothing has changed.
The call of Jesus still turns our world upside down,
Still sends us fishing.
And what I want to know as I feel the gentle chop of Sea
                                                 Have I learned how to fish? 

The Synagogue at Nazareth

The Synagogue had several purposes.  It was the place where the village stored their scrolls in jars. It was a gathering place for celebrations, a community center of sorts.  During the week it provided a school for boys.  It was also a court house to settle village disputes.  Central to its purpose was its use to gather to read from the scrolls, the Torah.  We walked into the simple and starkly empty space.

I know it wasn’t right here in this very space.  I understand this is a reproduction.  But in a place like this, Jesus announced his mission for the first time. I can hear it . . .

Nazareth

Nazareth Village is a recreation of the life and times of Jesus. It was made for pilgrims like us.  We will walk through with a guide, a young girl with a practiced script and the poise of an international host.  She looks very much like the Mary’s in our Bible story pictures only with contemporary clothes.
Of course the main idea here is that Jesus lived in a place like this.  As I take this walk, I can’t help but look for a young Jewish boy with a smile that embraces the world.

Nazareth is a farm village. The white chalky paths remind us that these are limestone hills.   A donkey poses under the shade of a tree.  Reliable donkeys shared their backs to transport people and any number of things.  Donkeys aren’t workaholics.  They plod.  They look for easy ways.  Depend on them to cut the best path. 

Did Joseph depend on the GPS of a donkey to get his young family to Egypt?  Perhaps.  What we do know is that Jesus rode a donkey into Jerusalem.  It was a  sign of peace not war. 

The houses in the village are white mudded limestone structures.  Windows were high to increase air flow and give privacy.  An interesting wooden double door construction of a door within a door allowed the home keeper to close the larger door and leave a smaller one open.  This kept wandering horses outside but added a welcome to the village. I wish I could have spent time examining the simple tools and imagined how they were used.

 

A cooking pot over a raised fire is an interesting “burner” construction.  I can only imagine how the best cooks learned to  control their heat.

Olive trees anchor Israel because they can live 400-500 years.  Their twisted branches reach toward the sun with handfuls of silver green leaves and share shade from their spreading circumference.   Shade is just about as important here as water

Our walk takes us past a burial cave.  It looks just like the pictures we’ve seen of Jesus’ open tomb.  We learn a little about burial.  Bodies must be buried within 24 hours.  Each family has a burial cave.  When there is a death, the body is quickly prepared, wrapped, and placed in the front part of the cave.   One year later, they go back to “collect” the bones and place them in a receptacle to store farther back in the cave.  Then, the cave is ready for the next death. 

So this is like the village where Jesus grew up.  Where he found friends, learned Hebrew,  worked in the carpentry shop, grew in favor with God and man.  Still, we don't know much about these years, except what we can imagine . . .

So Jesus grew up in a village like this.   Found friends here.  Learned Hebrew here.  Worked in the carpenter’s shop here.  Grew in favor with God and man.  And still, we don’t know what it must have been like . . .

              Little boy Jesus
                      Walking chalky paths
                      Listening for his mother’s call.
            Little boy Jesus
                       With impish grin
                       And a spirit for bugs and discovery.
            Little boy  Jesus
                       Lived here with the curtains drawn
                       So that he could grow up
                       Just like every other little boy.
                                                For a while.
                                                                    --dg