Bethany-beyond-the Jordan, where it all began!

Bethany-beyond-Jordan sits at the south end of the Jordan River, where the river is joined by Wadi Kharrar, and just as it empties into the Dead Sea. I cycled through the Baptism Site front gate right on 6 am, and with no one in the ticket booth at this early time of the morning, I kept going, as you do (on a bike).

A couple of kilometres further along the small winding road that leads off in the direction of the Jordan River, I came to the site itself.

At first I was a little disappointed. It looked like just another grouping of rubble and embankments, and you may need to be a trained archaeologist (Indiana Jones?) to be able to conjure up an image of the original early Christian, Roman and/or Byzantine structures in all their glory.

Still, lack of imagination or not, archaeological digs tell us that this is most probably the actual spot where, according to the Bible, John the Baptist baptised Jesus some 2,000 years ago. Thus began the ministry of Jesus Christ in the world, with its baffling inside-out message, and subsequent confusing complexity.

See: Sacred Sites - Bethany-beyond-the Jordan
http://www.sacred-destinations.com/jordan/bethany-baptism-site
See: Bible Places.com - Bethany-beyond-the Jordan
http://www.bibleplaces.com/bethanybeyondjordan.htm

'.. Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. As Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased." At once the Spirit sent him out into the desert...' (Mark 1:4-5, 9-12)

I wheeled the bike along the dirt path, down past the palm trees and dry wells and on into the ruins of the early Christian monastery that overlooks Wadi Kharrar. From here I could look out across the thick reed bed that springs from the wadi, which runs all the way down to the Jordan River, a couple of kilometres to the south.

It was a beautiful sight.

I sat down and remembered how my own cry for Christ, some years back now, had torn me open, and what was inside came rushing out. Not that I knew what I was doing, or even where I was going - all I knew was that I didn't believe in the world anymore, and so I let go.

The cry surprised me. I didn't expect it, and didn't even know it was there until it pushed its way out, a little bit like Sigourney Weaver's experience in Aliens. I can certainly relate to that film.

And then the waters flow, and you are no longer alone. Then it gets really interesting...

Though I ride through the Valley of the Shadow of Speeding Buses,
I will not be afraid...

I pushed on down into the wadi itself, and wheeled the bike along the track that weaves through the tall bank of reeds. Every now and then the thick, impenetrable clusters of growth opened up and gave me short glimpses of the surrounding yellow cliffs and rough, cave strewn escarpments that mark the boundary of the Jordan River Valley plateau.

This sure was a good spot. John the B. knew what he was on about.

The hours slipped by, and it was approaching 10 am when I rolled back out through the front gates of the site. I cut out onto the highway and rode the few kilometres up to Dawood's coffee stall, stopping to get a well earned pick-me-up. My less than restful sleep was taking its toll, and I was beginning to flag in the heat.

A half a click up the road was the turn off to the King Abdullah Bridge, the crossing into Israel-Palestine at the West Bank.

"Bridge Abdullah fifteen kilometre from highway, Fee-liks," said Dawood. "Turn to right!" he added, gesturing left.
"You mean turn left," I said.
"Yes," he said, and smiled.
"You're a good man, Dawood," I said, and smiled also. Dawood smiled back. We had a good thing happening.

I was reasonably sure the bridge was 'to the left' off the highway, down towards the Jordan River, but I'd work it out when I got to the turn off. Cycling is a stage by stage operation.

With luck I'd be in Jerusalem by nightfall.