Chapter XIII · (continued 2)

As the rivals of the Latins, the Greeks have identified the site of the angelic salutation on the eastern side of the town, and over the “Fountain of the Virgin” have erected their “Church of the Annunciation.” Without exterior elegance, it is a low structure, with arched ceiling supported by small square piers. In the east end is an altar-screen of wood, elaborately carved, on the panels of which are painted Bible scenes. In the opposite end is a large latticed screen, separating that portion of the church which is allotted to women from the main part of the edifice. In the north end is a recess occupied by the nuns, and over the entrance is a splendid picture of the Annunciation. Mary is represented as standing by a fountain, modest and attentive, and of a lovely form; near her is the Angel Gabriel, in the act of salutation; while above them is the august form of the Divine Father, with outspread hands, bestowing his gracious benediction.

Near this church, and at the base of a hill, is the outlet of the sacred fountain, which the Greeks claim to be the veritable spring to which Mary was accustomed to come for water, and where she was saluted by the angel. Having its source beneath the church, the water is conducted to this spot through a stone aqueduct, where, from under a rude arch, it flows into a marble trough. Though not perennial, yet, as this is the chief fountain of the city, and as it probably existed during the residence of the holy family, it was, no doubt, often visited by the mother of our Lord. The legend that the salutation was given at a spring is derived from the apocryphal Gospels, especially the one bearing the name of St. James. Following the example of Mary, the beautiful maidens of Nazareth resort to this famous fountain not only for water, but for the more agreeable objects of conversation and courtship.

Coming from the “Church of the Annunciation” at the hour of vespers, I witnessed a scene here as novel as it was interesting. From twenty to thirty maidens were waiting to fill their long earthen pitchers from the crystal spring. Attired in a style as neat as it was elegant, they wore close-fitting jackets of different colors, long pointed veils of perfect whiteness, and head-dresses of silver coins. Their forms were straight and symmetrical, their features regular and handsome, their hair full and black, their eyes dark and lustrous, and their complexion of a soft brunette. Waiting their turn to the fountain, they laughed and chatted merrily together, and, gracefully poising the pitcher on head or shoulder, they seemed to regard the labor a delight rather than a task. Celebrated for their beauty, an old writer ascribes it to the special favor of Mary.

The only other great event connected with our Lord’s life in Nazareth, and which could have had “a local habitation and a name,” is his sermon in the synagogue, and the subsequent attempt of his townsmen to thrust him from the brow of the hill. Unwilling that any site should perish, the Latins pretend to have identified the one and the other. That which is shown as the site of the former may possibly be correct, but the “inventors of sacred places” have displayed less discrimination in the selection of the latter than in their choice of other localities. Selecting it for its precipitous appearance, as it overhangs the Plain of Esdraelon, the monks have designated a rugged mountain two miles to the southeast from Nazareth as the “Mount of Precipitation.” But while the height and steepness of this mountain might have answered the murderous purpose of the Nazarenes, yet it is too distant to be in keeping with the letter of the text. With his accustomed minuteness, St. Luke gives a simple narration of the facts of that premeditated tragedy: “And all they in the synagogue, when they heard these things, were filled with wrath, and rose up and thrust him out of the city, and led him unto the brow of the hill whereupon their city was built, that they might cast him down headlong.”626 The lofty hill to the west of the town corresponds, in its relative location, to that of the city, and is more in harmony with the inspired narrative. With Nazareth at its base, covering its lower spurs and creeping up its ravines, it rises to the height of 500 feet. Its sides are steep and covered with white limestone rocks, and, though not smooth, it is not sufficiently uneven to arrest one’s fall. Once started downward by a violent push, no human power could resist the force or avert the catastrophe. Desiring to test the difficulty of the descent, I found it impossible to descend with safety except by placing my feet in the fissures of the rocks. With a meekness which was the more remarkable because of its exalted purpose, the Master suffered the infuriated mob to hurry him through the crowded streets, and up through one of the ravines, to the brow of the hill, where, by a display of his wondrous power, he released himself from their grasp, and, “passing through the midst of them, went his way.”

From the summit of this hill not only is one of the noblest views in Palestine obtained, but it is the best place for pious reflection. Reaching the highest point in half an hour, we found thereon the ruined wely of Neby Isma’il, and around it were growing the beautiful amaranth and other kinds of Syrian flowers. The wind blew strongly from the sea, which, together with a hazy sky, lessened the enjoyment of the hour; but the wide and glorious prospect was before us. There was Tabor, with its oaken groves; the “Mountains of Gilead,” with the brown plateau of Pella; the Plain of Esdraelon, with its graceful undulations and memorable cities; the Hills of Samaria, green and rolling; the long range of Carmel, crowned with its wealthy convent, and casting its deep shadow into the Bay of Haifa, where the navies of Europe were riding at anchor; the Plain of ’Akka, where “Asher dipped his foot in oil, and yielded royal dainties;” the wide sea, “dotted with many a sail;” the intervening hills, all wooded and sinking down in gentle slopes into winding valleys of the richest verdure; the Plain of El-Buttauf, and the Crusaders’ Castle of Seffurieh; the long ridges of the Galilean Hills running up toward Safed, “the city set upon a hill;” and rising above them all in grandeur was Hermon, with its mighty dome of snowy whiteness sparkling in the sun like a crown of glory.

Contracting the scope of the vision, the wandering eye returned and rested on the immortal village, quietly nestling at the mountain’s base. It is Nazareth! How the sacred associations throng the mind! How the imagination is tempted to picture scenes which must have occurred, but which are not recorded! The theme is too divine for fancy. The same infinite wisdom is displayed in what is not written as is manifested in what is recorded. Lift not the veil that the Father has drawn over the thirty years of seclusion of his Son, nor attempt to be wise above that which is written. It is enough that in this mountain village lived Mary and Joseph; that here they loved and were betrothed; that by its spring, or in its fields, or in her quiet home, ere came the marriage-day, “Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary. And the angel came in unto her and said Hail! thou art highly favored; the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women;” that twice after the annunciation Mary ascended from her native vale, and, crossing these same hills, she journeyed southward into Judea—once to visit her cousin Elizabeth, and again to give a Savior to the world; and that, after the presentation in the Temple, hither the holy family returned to the duties and enjoyments of private life.627 With one solitary allusion, the silence of thirty years remains unbroken as to the life of Jesus prior to his public ministry. Subject to his parents, here he resided, treading these streets, wandering over these hills, and from this commanding summit beholding the same panorama which now is before us. The imagination pictures his childhood as lovely, his youth retiring and meditative, his manhood studious, youthful, and devout. Here were spent the years of preparation, and from a city without a history he went forth on the most benevolent mission that ever fell to the lot of man—to teach the sublimest truths, to illustrate the purest character, to die as no other man could die, and to establish a kingdom of righteousness, truth, and peace. Only twice is he known to have returned to the “city where he had been brought up;” once when rejected by his townsmen,628 and again when he was met with the taunt, “Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary, the brother of James, and Joses, and of Simon, and Judas? and are not his sisters with us?”629 Unable to do many “mighty works there because of their unbelief,” he abandoned Nazareth forever, and, choosing Capernaum as his “adopted city,” he was received with joy by the delighted people.630