A subtheme of this course of the Way in the Wilderness is how early monastics, who left the world to live in desolate and isolated places, experienced and shared, yes shared, the love of God despite living cloistered from the world.

It’s been a good place to ponder when my legs got tired from too much climbing, or the heat became too intense, or my stomach responded unhappily to strange food.

Today was one of those days, so I offer a prayer written by one of the 4th century holy ones.

Glory to the Holy Trinity:
One true God.

Grant us God to see with your eyes.
Grant us God to love with your heart.
Grant us God to work hand in hand with you.
Grant us God to walk in your ways.
Beginning and end,
and the end of earthly life.
AMEN

One of the best days yet.

We arrived at Mt. Nebo before opening, and were let in early because our guide had connections. It was still cool and lovely to be there before the crowds.

Mt. Nebo was where God took Moses to see the Promised Land before he died. You’ll recall that Moses was not allowed to enter because of an act of disobedience (Numbers 20).

Though it was hazy, we could still see a panorama of places in Jordan and Israel–places we’d already been and places still to. I was struck that most of us are like Moses–and not only in the disobeying God part. We each have a purpose in life, and none of us arrives to the place we’d hoped to go–this side of heaven. And life is still very good.

We then went to the site on the Jordan River where many think Jesus was baptised. Our walk started at the ruins of an early church built on the spot where it is thought that Elijah was taken into heaven (2 Kings 2).

The most moving part of the day was reading the passage from Luke 3 telling of the baptism of Jesus as we sat in silence near the site honoured as that very place. We ended our time at the Jordan by renewing our baptismal vows, and then being ausperged with water from the Jordan as a blessing was given to each of us by the Dean. We remembered our baptisms and were very thankful.

Traveling from Jordan back to Israel was a complicated process. I am deeply thoughtful about the guns and soldiers and checks and balances to move between these two land neighbours.

It’s good to be back in my room at the college where I can brush my teeth and drink from the tap, have convenient plumbing, and a place to properly do laundry.

As I type this one letter at a time on my iPhone, windows open for the night breeze, the Muslim call to prayer from the Old City fills my room.

I ask God’s blessing on you as you remember your baptism and are thankful. If you’re not baptised–you have a world of joy ahead for you.

We were up very early and drove about five hours through desolate wilderness to arrive at Machaerus, and the ruins of one of Herod Antipas’s twelve palaces.
It is significant because it was where John the Baptist was executed.

The challenge, at least for me, was that it was a very steep climb and, of course, it was 1 pm and at the very heat of the day. I did it in homage to John, and I am delighted to say that I made it!!!

We then did a short drive to Madaba where we had the best meal we’ve had since arriving in Jordan at Haret Jdoudna.

Later we went across the street to St George’s Church to see the extraordinary mosaic map of the known world created in the 6th century. The light was too dim for photos, so of your interest is piqued, google St.George’s, Madaba, and you can see it all!

Tomorrow we’re on the road again to Mt. Nebo and the Dead Sea before returning to Jerusalem and the College.

God’s peace.

My mother’s last surviving sister of four, Frances, died yesterday. She was over 90 years old and had lived a good life. I remember her as a fabulous cook. Hers were the first hushpuppies I remember eating and set the bar for every other one I ate. I don’t think any ever topped hers.

It’s strange to be so far away that there is no way I can get back to Texas in time for her service for any amount of money. I wish I could be there to sit beside my mom. Prayers from somewhere in Madaba tomorrow night when the service is in Melissa at 11 will have to do.

May the souls of all the faithful departed, of whom Aunt Frances was surely one, rest in God’s peace.