On the way to Mt. Nebo...

Above: Before I set off for the ride down into the Jordan Valley, I went to early morning Mass at the Church of John the Baptist in Madaba.

This Roman Catholic church sits up on the hill, square in the Christian quarter, surrounded by Roman ruins and overlooking the mosques and numerous other churches of various denominations that inhabit the Madaba landscape. Madaba has been a Christian religious centre since the 1st Century AD.

The Mass was in Arabic, and so I can confirm for my pinheaded Malay Muslim friends who like to set fire to churches in Kuala Lumpur, that yes, most definitely, the word 'Allah' is used for 'God' in the Christian Arabic liturgy, and as such, one may assume, likewise in the rest of the human occupied world, 'Allah' is not exclusively a 'Muslim word' denoting the 'Muslim God'.

In fact, some days previously in Amman, I was chatting to a nun at St. Joseph's Church near Jabal Amman (the Amman Hill), and she turned to talk in Arabic to a young student who had come across from the school opposite. After a flow of Arabic words, I heard the distinctive 'Insha'allah' as the parting phrase.

Being a teacher myself, I guess the student was saying something like; 'Excuse me, Sister, my assignment is late today but I promise to hand it in first thing in the morning.'
"Insha'allah! God willing!" says Sister, with a toss of the head, and goes back to talking to the Australian chap with the bike and the distinctive electrical box sticking out of the top of his head

Well, I guess I can forget about this Malay idiocy for now.

"How are Christians treated here in Jordan?" I asked one of the parishioners after the Mass, as we stood chatting, dwarfed by the many 2nd Century Roman columns and statues in the front courtyard of the church. Christians make up about 7% of the population in Jordan, and being non-Muslim in a predominantly Muslim country can be problematic in some countries. Islamic acceptance of things non-Muslim is a rubbery phenomenon.

"On the whole, very good," she said. Teresa was about 45 and lived a short walk from the church. She was modestly dressed in black skirt and coat, as is, it seems, the favoured 'church attire' worn by the more traditional Catholic women in Jordan. "Some (Muslim) hardliners make a bit of trouble sometimes, but Jordan is a tolerant country, and Christianity is part of the society here. We have a long history." She joined both hands together through the fingers to indicate 'knitted'.
I smiled. "Well, that's good to hear, Teresa," I said.
"Yes, we are happy enough," she added, before thanking me for coming, and wishing me well on my journey. "Please come and see us again if you come back this way."
I will," I said. I was genuinely touched by the welcome I'd received in Madaba, across the religious board.

From what I have observed, Jordanians work hard to keep things basically fair and equal, no matter the race or religion. It was often a topic of conversation, and in some ways, a point of national pride. It was, I might add (hopefully for the last time...), a welcome change to Malaysia, where I'd been living in 2009, and Israel, as I was slowly beginning to learn.

On the way to Mt. Nebo...
Above 1: At a scenic rest stop, with Ahmed the builder's labourer.
Above 2: John the Baptist may well have stocked up on thistles at this very locale while he was wandering in the Jordanian wilderness. Today they sell Cokes, ice creams and Snickers bars. I had a Coke.

Mt. Nebo, the place where Moses (Moosa) looked out over the Jordan Valley and God said something to him like, 'Behold, Moosa, before ye is the Promised Land! Go forth and occupy, neither letting Palestinians nor Australians on bicycles stand in your way!'. Mt. Nebo lies 10 km downhill from Madaba town.

Being a cyclist, favoured by God or not, it was good to be actually sitting on the bike and going somewhere. The wheels go around...

Today's plan was to get to Mt. Nebo and then push further on down to the Dead Sea, where I would visit the spot on the Jordan River where John the Baptist baptised Jesus, sometime around 30 AD, as the story goes.

This being Easter, tomorrow I planned to cross into Palestine and visit Jerusalem.