by H. V. Morton
This book is on the list of optional additional reading for geography in Level 5 (ninth and tenth grades) on the Mater Amabilis™beta plans (available in the facebook group for high school). When I saw it, I immediately searched online for a used copy because I loved Morton's A Traveller in Rome which I read in 2016 before (mostly) going to Rome. I chose this book because there is a chance First Son will have the opportunity to visit Israel during his high school years and I thought this book would be an excellent preparation for that experience. I haven't quite decided whether he can handle any additional reading, but it's still a possibility. Either way, I had the pleasure of reading this book myself.
Morton travels through Israel with a Bible, his imagination, and immense curiosity. His writing allows the reader to see the world through his eyes beautifully.
As the sun goes down, a stillness falls over Egypt. Water channels that cross the fields turn to the colour of blood, then to bright yellow that fades into silver. The palm trees might be cut from black paper and pasted against the incandescence of the sky. The brown hawks that hang all day above the sugar-cane and the growing wheat are seen no more and, one by one, the stars burn over the sandhills and lie caught in the stiff fronds of the date palms.The book was originally written in 1934 when Israel was under British rule. It reveals clearly the condescension of the British even while the author is trying to be sympathetic or complimentary to many of the people who make Israel or Palestine home. Once, a Belgian tells of how they have been traveling and visiting with the protection of the Arab Legion (a kind of police force of the time apparently organized by the British) and says:
"Things like the Arab Legion...justify your colonization."If, however, you can recognize and overlook that attitude as a remnant of a time long past (attempting to avoid as much stereotyping as possible yourself), this book glows with the spirit of wonder and awe at being so near the home of Jesus.
I do not know for certain whether the Via Dolorosa is really the road on which Jesus carried the Cross, and neither, I think, does anyone else. Its route depends on the situation of Pilate's judgment hall and the unknown position of the Gate Genath. But it does not seem to me to matter very much whether it is the actual road or a memorial to the actual road. What is important is that men and women who have walked upon it have met there the vision of Christ.
In some ways, Morton's sense of adventure and desire to explore deeply the geography and history of the land reminds me of Richard Halliburton's Book of Marvels. Amazingly, he manages to find a guide to take him through Hezekiah's Tunnel even though:
It is wet, messy and dangerous, and you have to explore it at night in order not to stir up the water of the Virgin's Fountain in which the women of Siloam wash their clothes during the daytime.Later, he writes of the journey through the tunnel.
The first three hundred feet were simple, but then the tunnel became low and we had to walk bent double. There were also pot holes in which we suddenly sank well over the knees. The total length of the tunnel is over a quarter of a mile, so that I had plenty of time to regret my decision to explore it and to admire the common sense of all those people who refused to go with me.And yet, he describes the tunnel clearly, wondering about the men who created it, the fear through which they worked, and some of the mysteries that still surround it. Then he describes the beauty of the world into which he emerges.
As we went on through the lonely valley with its crowded tombs, we came to the foot of the Mount of Olives and saw the little walled Garden of Gethsemane, with the light of the moon falling between its cypress trees and lying across its quiet paths.As he travels, he often sits with his Bible and reads the passages in the very places they happened. He describes them in detail, exquisitely filling them out with his imagination. At the end of his description of Salome's dance and the execution of John the Baptism, he writes:
The executioner goes with his sword down to the dungeon. He returns with the head of the Baptist, still warm. And the night wind moves the hair.The book ends as Morton comtemplates Easter in Jerusalem.
The moon hung above the Mount, touching the ridge with a gold haze, washing every white track in light, painting each olive tree in shadow against the rocks. How hushed it was in the light of the moon. Not a footstep rang in the streets below me; no one moved in the silence beyond the wall. Above the black shadow of the Kedron Valley I could see the moonlight silvering the trees in the Garden of Gethsemane...I don't know if anyone today is writing such lyrical travel books, but at least someone is reprinting the Morton ones. If I ever make it to Israel, I'm taking this book with me.
I received nothing for writing this post. I bought a used copy of In the Steps of the Master and borrowed a copy of A Traveller in Rome. The links above to Amazon are affiliate links.
