The Sea of Galilee by W. W. Patton

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 14, 1872

The Sea of Galilee.

By W. W. Patton

It was with no common thrill of feeling that I first saw the blue waters of the Sea of Galilee (or of Tiberias, as now called), having a short time before had Mt. Tabor pointed out on the southern horizon. We had followed the Jordan from Lake Huleh a few miles, down to the bridge Jisr Benat Yakub, and had then struck into the hills on its west, to an old khan called Jubb Yusef, in approaching which we had our first view of that beautiful sheet of water around which the ministry of our Lord was principally exercised. It lay at a distance of six miles, in a deep basin, surrounded on all sides by mountains, which rise from 1,500 to 2,000 feet above it. It is about 600 feet below the level of the Mediterranean, and the same below Lake Huleh, being in that vast gorge extending from Hermon to a point south of the Dead Sea, which has been rent in the earth by volcanic forces, by the reason of which the Jordan alone of all earth's rivers has its course below the sea-level. From the clearness of the atmosphere it appeared quite small and is actually only thirteen miles long and six wide. But the interest of the Saviour's life centers here. Upon its waters and along its shores were his wondrous discourses spoken and his mighty deeds wrought.

In order to strike the Sea at Tell Hum, we quit the road at Khan Jubb Yusef, and rode across the pathless hills in a southeasterly direction, over the rocks and through thistles, for nearly two hours, picking our way with much difficulty, until we reached a rise of ground upon the border of the lake. A warm dispute has existed for some years among geographers of the Holy Land whether Tell Hum is the site of Chorazin or of Capernaum. I shall not enter into it; but the fact of the dispute adds to the evidence of the complete ruin to which Christ doomed these unbelieving cities. There was at Capernaum a splendid marble synagogue, and it is certain that the ruins of precisely such an edifice have been found at Tell Hum. Fragments lay here and there, and were occasionally seen by travelers, who, by the aid of two or three Arabs with clubs, could work through a thicket of thorns and thistles six or eight feet high, in the spring of the year. But last winter, Capt. Wilson, of the English Exploring Committee, excavated quite a place amid the ruins, though by no means as largely or completely as I had supposed from previous report. The building was of white limestone and marble, and the lower portions or foundations have been partly uncovered, while among them lie fragments of columns, the bases being often still in place, and very beautiful Corinthian capitals, with other elaborate sculptures, exceeding in richness and delicacy any other remains in Palestine. On a large cornerstone I observed a carved representation of the front of a temple or synagogue (perhaps a model of that very building) about fifteen inches long by eight high. There were also curious double or twin columns, with capitals and bases all cut from one rock. Explorations are soon to be resumed at this place, and will no doubt bring out interesting results.

Here we took to the shore, and followed it for three hours, till we reached Tiberias, enjoying a most charming and exciting ride through the obscure ruins and now ignoble sites of Bathsaida, Capernaum, at Ain et-Tin (if Tell Hum be not the place), and Magdala, and across the small but fertile plains, three miles in width, near the northwest corner of the lake, which was the ancient “land of Gennesareth,” and gave one of its three names to the body of water.

Here we rode over a smooth, hard beach abounding in shells, and free from the stones elsewhere prevailing; just the place for fishermen to draw their nets to shore, and probably the very spot where the disciples carried on their business, and where the miraculous draught of fishes occurred. And could it be that along this deserted coast there were once numerous cities, that this lonely sheet of water was once alive with vessels, and that here Jesus called his apostles and taught the thronging thousands? Surely, no contrast could be more striking than of the past and the present. Our tents were on the shore, a few rods outside of the petty and dirty modern city of Tiberias, on the south, where the ruins of the ancient city begin and stretch along a narrow plain, a third of a mile in width, between the mountain and the sea, for the space of a mile or more, to the natural warm baths.

These baths, the water of which issues in springs from the earth as hot as the hand can bear, and with a brackish and sulphurous taste, taken with the black basaltic rock of the coast, like the slag of a furnace, bear testimony to the volcanic character of the locality, as do also the fearful earthquakes which from time to time convulse the region. The ancient ruins betoken a city of size and splendor, as sixteen large columns lie prostrate by the foundations of one edifice.

The Jews' cemetery is contiguous, and the stones with the memorial inscriptions in Hebrew, were almost without exception fragments of marble plucked from the ruins and then inscribed. The steep mountainside above the ruins exhibited several caves, with traces of ancient paths, which were perhaps used as tombs. The quietness and solitude of the place may be judged of by the fact that the wild ducks swam unconcernedly to and fro in front of our tents, and hardly thought it worth while to dive when I threw stones at them.

We enjoyed a luxurious bath in the cool waters of the lake, complaining only of the stony bottom. The lake abounds in crabs, that differ from their salt-water brethren in being amphibious, for they issue from the lake, wander over the land, and hide under the stones. They even march boldly into my tent. At first I took them to be a land species; but, on catching one and putting him into the water, he proved to my astonishment to be perfectly at home there.

On Monday, we crowned our visit by a boat excursion. What could be more interesting than to follow the course of our Lord and his disciples, and to cross the Sea of Galilee in a fisher's boat? For such was the little vessel in which we embarked, with our Arab fishermen to navigate. There are now six or eight similar boats on the lake, rude affairs, with the merest apology for a sail; a few years since, and not a boat moved upon the water. Fish are abundant, yet are not taken in long nets, but with a small hand-net, with which on his arm the fisher walks stealthily along the shore, or in the water, till he spies a fish, and then suddenly throws the net over it.

The coast opposite Tiberias appeared nigh, owing to its height and the clearness of the air; but, as there was no wind, it required two hours to row our vessel across to it. I had a special object in crossing, beyond the boat-ride and the fine view obtained of the entire sea. The whole eastern side is dangerous to be visited on horseback without an armed escort, as the Bedouin plunderers are in all that region. But a boat may cross, and touch here and there on the shore, with less risk. Directly opposite Tiberias, the coast widens into a plain nearly a mile wide, upon which opens the Wady (or valley) Fik. In the middle of the opening rises a high, steep hill, access to which is at its east end by a low, narrow neck, which joins it to the mountain on the south. On the summit are the ruins of the city of Gamala, famous in the days of Josephus, who himself commanded there at one time, and which cost the Romans under Vespasian great effort to take. After the capture, they massacred 4,000 of the brave defenders, while 5,000 others cast themselves from the walls upon the rocks below and thus miserably perished.

Notwithstanding the fears of our dragoman, I was determined to push inland and visit these ruins. So, taking him and one of the Arab fishermen, I crossed the plain and ascended the steep side of the hill in front of us, without much difficulty beyond a little weariness of muscle and expenditure of breath. On the top were extensive ruins, showing the existence of a large plan, with traces of walls and fortifications that must have made it almost impregnable, raised as they were on the precipitous hillsides. I went down into a reservoir, still in tolerable condition, arched over, and about 60 feet long by 30 broad and 30 deep. There was a noble view from the summit, of the sea and the opposite coast. No Bedouins made their appearance, though we took the trip leisurely and descended by the isthmus and the valley on the south to the plain and the boat.

During my absence, a scowling, surly-looking party of Arabs came down to the shore by the boat (from which we had landed by being carried a few yards through the water), and my companion and his wife thought it wise to retreat on board again, where I rejoined them. One of our boatmen, meanwhile, had been off with his net, and returned with several good-sized fishes. The wind rose a little, the waves roughened, the lady became ill, and we knew not but we should have experience of a scriptural storm on this memorable lake. But we reached Tiberias again in safety after another tedious row.

As it was but half past three o'clock, and we were to leave for Nazareth in the morning, I mounted a horse and rode to the south end of the sea, to examine the Jordan at its issue. The road was all the way by the waterside, and, but for the utter silence and desolation, most charming. In a mile and a half were the hot springs before mentioned, over two of which are buildings, to which the people resort for a bath. A mile beyond were nameless ruins, not anywhere described, so far as I am aware; and a mile or more still beyond were the ruins of ancient Tarichaea, now called Kerak, just at the southwest corner of the sea. Ten minutes' further ride brought me to the point where the Jordan issues from the Sea of Galilee, and hurries on its tortuous, downward course to the Dead Sea, in the great chasm 1,300 feet below the Mediterranean; in reaching which it descends 700 feet, and cuts out a winding channel of 150 miles, full of rapids, though the direct distance is not more than sixty miles. The banks at the opening are rather high and rounded, with the remains apparently of an old bridge, or of the approaches to one. The stream, to my surprise, was narrower than where it flows from Lake Huleh, and less deep also, being only forty feet wide and four and a half deep just below the remains of the bridge. To make sure of my calculation, I undressed and took a bath, and, wading across, found the water to rise only to my shoulders. A fine valley seemed to accompany it southward, which under any rule but the Turkish would be a garden, but is now given over to be a wilderness.

A smart trot of an hour brought me back to the tents, by the light of the moon silvering the waves of the “Lake of Gennesareth.” A fisher's boat passed me, bound down the lake, for a night's fishing, and brought to mind similar expeditions of the apostles, when sometimes “they toiled all night and caught nothing.” And thus, with many sad and impressive reflections, as I looked in that still hour over the water and upon the deserted shores, I concluded the last day of my visit to the Sea of Galilee. The next morning, with many a fond and regretful look backward, I ascended the mountain, crossed the summit, and, except a glimpse of the northeast corner from Tabor, lost sight of the precious lake forever.—W. W. Patton, D. D.

Nazareth, Nov. 13, 1866.