Wadi walk in the desert

Forty days and forty nights Thou wast fasting in the wild,

Forty days and forty nights tempted and yet undefiled.

Let us thine endurance share and awhile from joys abstain,

With thee watching unto prayer, strong with thee to suffer pain.

And if Satan, vexing sore, flesh or spirit should assail,

Thou, his vanquisher before, grant we may not faint nor fail.

Keep, O keep us, Saviour dear, ever constant by thy side,

That with thee we may appear at the eternal Eastertide.

 G.H. Smyttan, 1822-70 (sung in church this 1st Sunday of Lent)

River in the rocky desert

It's Lent. What better way to enter the season than to walk in the desert? On a gloriously sunny day, hot enough to feel it, breezy enough to enjoy it, we walked in the Judean desert near Jericho: the same desert where Jesus spent 40 days and was tempted by the devil. Our path wound down into a gorge, the Wadi Qelt, deep and dry; at the bottom of which ran a rushing river. Most of the year the river is a mere trickle; now after the rainy season it leaps and dances to its own music!

People like ants among rocks & caves

The desert is so dry. Palestine's desert is not a Lawrence of Arabia kind of dry, with sand dunes and mirages. It is like the Rocky Mountains would be without any trees, with barren brown landscapes, with soft soil that produces no shrubbery, with scorching sun and nowhere to hide. Well, almost nowhere. Throughout this desert are caves, carved out in the cliffs by monks following their Lord's desert path, desiring hermitages, solitudes, undistracting destinations to pray. It's hard to find those in common life, though they seem essential to it.

Young ones lead the way

We walked single file along the desert path. That's the only way to go. Sometimes we clustered in our line, most of the time we were alone. The younger ones strode ahead, finding it easy, enjoying the challenges, sights set on the destination and how fast arrival could be. The middle-aged meandered a bit, taking in the hollows of the rock, imagining the practicalities of living out here - who would bring them food or water, how long would it take to get to Jericho, did they make beds in the caves, and where were those youngsters anyway? Those still older took it slower, pacing themselves, knowing that their future experiences in this land depended on their wisdom now. Some limped, some rested as needed, many offered a helping hand of support to each other. It was an interesting day of pilgrimage.

Jericho in the distance

Our final destination, Jericho, where the walls tumbled so the people could enter the promised land, could only be reached by fording the river. To top off the desert, no-one escaped getting wet! One man cut his foot - there was blood on the rocks. Some waded across in their shoes, sparing the pain of sharp stones but enduring sogginess for the rest of the day. We all made it, washed the mud off, and continued.

If we had charged headlong into the desert and been confronted with only bleak holes in the rocks and the winding path, we may have been discouraged. But our courage was raised at the start with a view and experience of refuge in the wilderness that carried us through. 

Monastery in the Rock

When we crested the first hill before descending into the wadi gorge, we saw a lovely sight below us: a monastery, carved into the dry mountainside, with trees and lush greenery below it.

Monastery Garden Oasis

It was a wonder to see how much could grow there in the dust, through care and love. Monks living here had spent years planting, watering, tending and growing their souls and their surroundings.

I gazed down at the patch of green and said to my boys, "That's a little picture of our lives. We can't change the whole desert around us - we'll be discouraged if we expect the world to be transformed - but we can make a big difference to our little patch of life!"

Bones & portrait of the Martyr

So we entered the monastery before entering the desert. It was cool, inviting, home-like. (Well, apart from the actual skulls and crossbones of ancient holy men, kept under glass!) Tiny cups of coffee awaited us. There were places to play, or to pray, or just to sit and reflect. There were views and colours marvelous to behold in this cleft of the rock. Experiencing courage in this way, our spirits were invigorated for the unknown path before us.
People much stronger than any one of us had gone before and created a world of healing and hope, a place as blessed as a happy childhood of grace and truth is to a lifetime of toil and journey. And so we went forth, cushioned and beloved.

The waters of Jordan

After Jericho, our day ended with a visit to the Jordan river, and we walked into its water, high and muddy in this season of rain. Father Tim (Tantur's Director) reminded us that this was a place of beginnings: it's where Joshua and the priests stepped in and the water parted so the people could cross and enter the promised land. Where Jesus stepped in to be baptized, like others, as heaven opened to begin His ministry with words of love, acceptance and identity.

Standing in the Jordan

Oliver collected a bottle of the murky water to take to a friend who would treasure it. It looked like an unappealing gift, but there was care in the thought. Now, as I write, the mud has settled and the water is clear and beautiful, with just a fine skimming of sandy soil at the bottom. Another good lesson, for when life is messed up: with time and stillness, most of it turns out to be pure and perfect!

Just before we left that sacred spot, off into the blue sky over our heads flew a white dove. Truly, a day of beginnings, of hope in the desert, as we walk this loving Lenten path.