Day 05 - Ein Harod, Lower Jordan, Kibbutz Almog, Good Samaritan Inn

Today we left the Galilee and headed south towards Jerusalem! But we had a handful of stops along the way, starting with Ein Harod.

“Ein,” in Hebrew, means “spring.” “Harod” means “to tremble” or “to be afraid.”

It’s an appropriate name given the biblical story that happened here.

The Midianites are marching against Israel. Gideon is serving as judge over Israel (think political and military leader - not that of a courtroom) and, if you go back a chapter, we already know that Gideon doesn’t have a lot of confidence in his leadership abilities.

Gideon has 32,000 soldiers to work with and God comes and says, “That’s too many. Tell anyone that is afraid to meet the Midianites that they can go home.” So, 22,000 take Gideon up on the offer, leaving him with only 10,000. God says, “That’s still too many.” He tells Gideon to instruct the men to drink from the spring. Those who lap the water up like dogs can stay. Those who kneel down and drink directly from the spring can go home. I know, it’s an odd test. But, in the end, Gideon is left with only 300 soldiers.

No wonder the spring became known as Ein Harod. Those are not great odds against an entire army.

Now, the story of just how God enabled Gideon to defeat the Midianites with just 300 men is fascination. You can read it for yourself in Judges 7:9-25.

The point is that had Gideon retained all 32,000 soldiers, they may have defeated the Midianites. But then the glory would have gone to Gideon. But defeating the Midianites with 300 men? Only God could do that.

You see this pattern all throughout the Bible. A shepherd named David defeating the Philistine’s mightiest warrior. A widow whose oil and flour never ran out. A boy with two small fish and five loaves of bread feeding 5,000 people. 

If God can do all of that, imagine what He could do with whatever you have to offer - no matter how seemingly small, insignificant, or unimportant.

We then made our way to the Jordan River and looked at three different but related stories.

The first is when Israel crosses the Jordan and enters the Promised Land. It’s, essentially, a passing of the baton from Moses to Joshua.

The second is when Elijah is taken up into heaven and, essentially, passes the baton to Elisha.

The third is when Jesus comes to be baptized by John and is also, in a sense, a passing of the baton. John, after all, was to serve as a forerunner to the Messiah but, now that the Messiah has come (and is about to begin His public ministry), the baton, if you will, is being passed.

Based on the geographical details we have in the Bible, there’s good reason to believe that all three of these stories happened at the same place.

That’s one of the incredible things about paying attention to where the events of the Bible happened. You begin to see the layers of depth and the connections between the stories.

The punchline here is that, in this third story, Jesus is going to do what Israel had failed to do. They were supposed to keep their covenant with God but didn’t. Jesus would keep it perfectly. They were supposed to obey God but didn’t. Jesus obeyed perfectly. They were supposed to represent and reflect God to the whole world but didn’t. Jesus did so perfectly.

Thank God He did what we never could.

Our next stop was at The Balm of Gilead Farm - a beautiful array of biblical plants situated in the desert near the Dead Sea.

Guy Erlich, the founder of the farm, makes essential oils, perfumes, and soaps entirely out of what he grows. He walked us through a handful of plants, talked about their healing properties, and let us sample a couple of his signature oils.

In his words, “This is what it looks like to make the desert bloom.”

Isn’t that exactly what we’re called to do as messengers of Christ? To bring beauty and life into barren places? To bring hope into desolation? To bring healing to the hurting?

I want to be that. I want to be a person that makes the desert bloom.

Our last stop was at the Good Samaritan Inn. It’s just about midway between Jericho and Jerusalem (which, you might remember, is where the man overtaken by robbers is traveling to and from).

Jesus told that parable in response to a question He was asked by an expert in religious law. The initial question was, “What is the greatest commandment?” Jesus said, “Well, what does the law of Moses say?”

The man answered, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your strength, and all your mind.’ And, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Luke 10:27, NLT)

Jesus affirmed the man’s answer, but man, the text tells us, wanted to justify himself so asked, “Who is my neighbor?” That’s when Jesus gave the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Basically, the “hero” of the story, if you will, is the least likely candidate - a Samaritan. The Samaritans were, let’s say, partial Jews. They had intermarried with pagans during the exile, and so those Jews who had remained “pure” regarded them with distain and disgust.

It’s the self-righteous priest and Levite who refuse to help the hurting man. It’s the Samaritan who does even though this man is an “enemy” – a Jew.

Jesus’s point is that we don’t get to pick and choose who we consider to be a “neighbor.” Certainly, loving your enemies, as Jesus also commanded, can get complicated.

But Jesus’s story insists that we lead with neighborliness – even towards those we find the least neighborly towards us (or worse).

Who do you need to love as Jesus has loved you? Remember, it was while we were His enemies that He died on the cross for us – the greatest act of love in all of history. So, who is it for you?

It was a good (very hot) day, and we’ve made it to Jerusalem. We’re excited for what lies ahead!