THE MOUNT
I had twenty minutes all to myself to sit perched on a hillside, with a stunning lake beneath me. The air was cool and damp on a February morning. A pleasant Israeli-February. Occasionally, the overcast sky would permit the rising sun to break through the clouds, casting down its broken beams, speckling the water below, if only for a moment.
But this was no ordinary hillside. Just like that was no ordinary water. For thousands of years, tradition has held that THIS plot of land, sloping up from the Sea of Galilee, is the most likely location where Jesus gave His famous “Sermon on the Mount”.
Stand in the right place, and the remarkable topography enables the human voice to travel effortlessly. Imagine being there 2,000 years ago. The time of year dictated where the crowd would need to sit in order to hear Jesus speak his luminous words. When the winds blew northward from the Sea, the crowd would need to sit uphill (the classic amphitheater arrangement), taking in the view you see above. However, at other times of the year, the winds blew southward from the Golan Heights. Then Jesus might have been taking in this view, the wind carrying His voice downhill to the people!
Reading Matthew 5-7
(…moments before my 20 minutes of peace…)
It was my first trip to Israel and only our second day in the country. Everything was new and breathtaking! Overwhelmed, I welcomed the invitation to sit for twenty minutes so I could try to soak it all in while the camera-crew flew a drone over my head to and from the Sea. They wanted to capture me in an attitude of reflection and mediation. But I’m no actor. I determined to authenticate the moment. Once they took their positions far up the hill, I turned to Matthew chapter 5 and began to read aloud…
Seeing the crowds, [Jesus] went up on the mountain, and when he sat down, His disciples came to Him. And He opened His mouth and taught them, saying, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven…”
Twenty glorious minutes later, I’d finished all three chapters, closed my Bible, exhaled, and returned to civilization. Renewed. Challenged. Grateful for the kindness of God, that He would send His Son into the world to proclaim the Kingdom of Heaven!
I’ve always been drawn more to the “essence of a place” as opposed to any shrine or memorial commemorating an event. That said, I’d prefer to sit on that hill any day rather than visit the nearby church building. However, I’m always willing to pay a visit…
The Church of the Beatitudes
The Church of the Beatitudes was completed in 1938 and to be fair, it is beautiful. As a steady flow of tourists trickles endlessly in and out, I’ve been known to linger elsewhere. But, when I brought my son Nicky in 2019, I wanted him to see everything. So we entered.
Small, simple, but with a magnificent golden rotunda adorning the ceiling in the center, the acoustics are magnificent for singing! That day, a tour-group from China was already inside, filling up almost every available space. They were singing. The air was charged. This felt sacred. As if the only thing that ever took place in this building was holy. It served no other purpose.
I didn’t need to understand Chinese. I knew this melody. I knew these lyrics: “Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah…”
Eight times we sang the word meaning “Praise the LORD” in Hebrew! Again and again…
Four-part harmony!
Two different ethnicities!
One heart! One song! One God!
One incredible experience we’ll never forget.
Sarah and I on The Mount in 2016
Back in the parking lot. Three years earlier. I can’t think of visiting the Mount of Beatitudes without thinking of a deep conversation Sarah and I had with our beloved tour guide. Let’s call him Moshe.
Moshe (not his real name) was brilliant, funny, and kind. In his mid-60s, his wife of many years had recently passed. Moshe was Jewish, but wouldn’t describe himself as Messianic: those who believe Yeshua (Jesus) was the promised Messiah. The three of us lingered by the buses, waiting for the rest of the tour to return. While the diesel engines rumbled, Sarah, with her gentle, disarming way of asking deep questions, ventured out, “Moshe, what’s the story with Jesus?”
Yikes. I didn’t know what to expect. Certainly not what came next.
“I love Jesus.” Moshe smiled. “He’s my Rabbi.”
That was unexpected. So were his next words…
“But, I’m Jewish. I don’t need Jesus. I have the covenant of Abraham. Jesus is for the Gentiles.”
We had never heard anything like that before, and while our hearts broke for our friend, we gained valuable perspective on how to pray for these dearly loved Children of Israel. How to pray for our new friend.
The Apostle Paul wrote to the Believers in Rome…
Lest you be wise in your own sight, I do not want you to be unaware of this mystery, brothers. a partial hardening has come upon Israel, until the fullness of the Gentiles has come in. And in this way all Israel will be saved. - Rom 11:25-26
Every day at 12:26pm, I’m reminded to pray for the PEACE of Jerusalem (Psalm 122:6). I pray for blinded eyes to SEE. For deaf ears to HEAR. For hearts of stone to be replaced with hearts of FLESH.
This is a good prayer. I pray it for Israel. For Moshe. For you. I pray it for myself.
Will you join me?
My son Nick overlooking the Sea of Galilee from the Mount of Beatitudes in 2019
