Madaba, Mt Nebo & Dead Sea

Crying holy unto my Lord, Crying holy unto my Lord
Oh, if I could I surely would stand on the rock where Moses stood. Bill Monroe

Madaba/Mt Nebo/Dead Sea Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Everyone seemed to be fairing a bit better in the morning as we ate breakfast. My throat was still sore but I did not think a whole lot about it. At breakfast we still avoided uncooked foods which seemed to be working well for all of us. Munthir our driver showed up on time and after exchanging some money into Jordanian Dollars (an American dollar only gets you .70 JD) we were off to nearby Madaba on a beautiful morning. Larry would comment several times how the weather, at least in May, in Amman reminded him of San Francisco, cool and dry.

Madaba is the site of a Greek Orthodox Church where they have on display many mosaics dating back to the Byzantine Empire in the 3^rd and 4^th centuries. Back then many home’s had floors that were elaborate mosaics of Biblical accounts and personalities, but after the fall of the empire, the floors were plastered over and it was not until the 1800’s that an earthquake revealed what was under those floors and French Christians came in mass to the city to restore the mosaics, many of which are now on display in the church. A good illustration of how God sometimes has to use disasters in our own lives to uncover treasures we have covered with our own dull plaster, but I digress. I was amazed at the patience and love displayed in the intricacies of the mosaics, and a whole industry has grown up around that town and mosaics. We visited two artisan shops where craftsman today work on contemporary mosaics; one is the Jordan Foundation, started by the Queen of Jordan, with the proceeds used to give handicapped Jordanians meaningful employment. We all did a fair amount of browsing and buying; I myself picked up gifts for my wife and daughter-in-law. As I waited in one shop I struck up a conversation with the young nineteen year old that had helped me with my purchase of Dead Sea salt and mud. He was preparing to started college in the fall; his father, uncle, and cousin were all engineers but he wants to study languages so he could work in the tourist industry and make better money. Apparently a glut of engineers has resulted in depressed wages for his cousin, a mechanical engineer, who only makes 200 JD a month with living expenses are every bit as high if not higher than in the states

Some tensions began to show again among us as we had to wait on each other as we shopped, but when a bit later when we were atop Mount Nebo, and strain was again showing, Larry led us all in a prayer where we laid our feelings before the Lord and asked for His love to bind us together. Immediately that prayer was answered; all our attitudes were markedly better and from then on there was no more aggravation. I thank the Lord for Larry’s wisdom and maturity.

Mount Nebo had its tourist aspects and the Greek monastery was closed for renovation, yet it was powerful to stand on the summit and look out toward the Jordan River Valley and realize that Moses had seen a very similar vista. The evaporation from the nearby Dead Sea made visibility sketchy in areas but you could make out the hills surrounding Jerusalem some 50 km away. Leaving the summit we descended down in the valley past numerous Bedouin camps and once in the valley we quickly passed through a security checkpoint and were soon at a public beach, Amman Beach, on the Dead Sea.

First on our agenda was lunch. Jordanians seems to have a sweet tooth for the dessert table was incredibly varied and everyone especially enjoyed the bread pudding we found there. After eating we prepared to experience the 33% salinity of the Dead Sea. I had secret hopes that salt would help my sore throat; kind of like gargling with salt water. The sensation of being so buoyant is truly unworldly; if you lay on your stomach, the buoyancy of your legs felt like they were going to flip you over. Larry, Angela and I spent the extra 3 JD to slather our bodies with Dead Sea mud to rejuvenate ourselves. Rinsing off without getting salt in my eyes was a bit of challenge but made easier with my goggles. However, the salt on my face burned where I had shaved that morning; laughingly later some Jordanian friends said oops, we should have told you not to shave. After rinsing off in the shower some of us swam in a swimming pool adjacent to the Sea and we just relaxed and enjoyed the last of the day. Several times we were serenaded by the sound of artillery fire, but when asked who was firing and why, Munthir just shrugged and said, no one ever knows who or why. Apparently the sound is just a part of the sound track of life in the Jordan River valley.

Leaving the Dead Sea, which is 1237 feet below sea level, we took the main direct highway to Amman, about an hour away but also about 2500 ft above sea level. At times our ears would pop from the pressure change. Arriving back at the Hotel Commodore we were greeted by Wahid and some of his associates. We cleaned up, napped, caught up on Facebook and email; about sunset the sound of the evening prayers or Isha came through our windows. I remembered to pray for the Coptic believers, and for believers in neighboring Syria where an ongoing crackdown prevented any from coming to Amman. At dinner we met several of the conferees from Palestine which was made the more interesting since that was the part of Brother’s Andrew book I was currently reading. Having enjoyed a much needed day of rest we were anxious to open the conference in the morning.