FROM Jerusalem northward as far as Bethel, a distance of ten or twelve miles, we pass through the territory of Benjamin. The topography of the district illustrates the prophecies of Jacob and Moses as to the destinies of this small but warlike tribe, and explains the peculiar position which it held in the Jewish commonwealth. From the central plateau, which runs north and south, a succession of rugged and difficult passes lead east and west, debouching on the fertile Philistine plain on the one side, and on the yet more fertile valley of Jericho on the other. Its barren rocky soil, ill-adapted for agriculture, gave birth to a race of hardy warriors, whose military prowess was often called into exercise in protecting Jerusalem against invaders from the north, in guarding their own mountain fastnesses, or in making forays upon the territories of their eastern or western neighbours. Almost every hill-side has been the scene of a battle; almost every mound of ruins marks the site of some ancient village memorable for the heroic deeds there enacted. “Benjamin shall ravin like a wolf: in the morning he shall devour the prey, and at night he shall divide the spoil.”^[169] “And of Benjamin he said, The beloved of the Lord (Jerusalem) shall dwell in safety by him; and the Lord shall cover him all the day long, and he shall dwell between his shoulders:”^[170] a prophecy fulfilled when centuries afterwards the Lord took up His earthly abode among the mountains of Benjamin. With its barren soil and numerical inferiority it yet won for itself the proud title of “little Benjamin their ruler;”^[171] it gave the first king to Israel, and the great Apostle of the Gentiles boasted, with a lawful pride, that he was “of the tribe of Benjamin.”^[172]

For some miles along the road, or from the eminences which skirt it, Jerusalem is visible. Age after age, invading armies, or bands of pilgrims, approaching from the north, as they have turned the crest of Scopus, have gained their first view of the city—a view in some respects even finer than that from Olivet. Here the first crusaders halted at break of day, and as Jerusalem burst upon their view, they knelt, and with tears of gladness, kissed the sacred soil. Richard Coeur de Lion, leaving his camp at Ajalon, pressed forward alone, and as he ascended one of these hills, buried his face in his mailed hands, and exclaimed, “Oh! Lord God, I pray Thee that I may never look upon Thy holy city, if so be that I rescue it not from Thine enemies.”

A complete itinerary of the villages along this route is given us by the prophet Isaiah, describing the march of the Assyrian army. Beginning at Ai, near Bethel, about twelve miles north of Jerusalem, “he is passed to Migron, at Michmash he hath laid up his baggage; they are gone over the passage; they have taken up their lodging (i.e. halted for the night), at Geba; Ramah is afraid; Gibeah of Saul is fled. Lift up thy voice, O daughter of Gallim: cause it to be heard unto Laish, O poor Anathoth. Madmenah is removed; the inhabitants of Gebim gather themselves to flee. As yet shall he remain at Nob that day.” Having thus seized all the villages on his line of march, he has reached the immediate precincts of the city, where the camp of the Assyrians is yet pointed out. Confident of victory, “he shall shake his hand against the mount of the daughter of Zion, the hill of Jerusalem;” but “the Lord, the Lord of hosts, shall lop the bough with terror, and the high ones of stature shall be hewn down, and the haughty shall be humbled.”^[173]

Nearly all the villages here enumerated can be identified, and not a few of them still bear their ancient names. A Concordance or a reference-Bible will show what an affluence of historical associations lie all around us—Ai, the scene of Joshua’s first great battle—Migron, where the army of Saul encamped in his campaign against the Philistines—Michmash, the scene of Jonathan’s heroic exploit—Ramah, the home of Samuel—Gibeah, the birth-place of Saul—Gallim and Laish the abode of Phalti the husband of Michal, when torn away from David—Anathoth, the residence of Jeremiah, and Nob where in the house of Ahimelech the priest, the sword of Goliath was laid up, and the shew-bread was placed before the Lord, of which David “did eat when he was a hungred, and they that were with him.”

Apart from its historical associations, there is little to interest in the district through which we pass. A bleak, wind-swept, rock-strewn moor or a series of rounded hills where the grey limestone comes up to the surface, with only a few patches of meagre vegetation on the shallow soil, make up the scene. There is, however, one steep conical hill rising above the others, which arrests attention. Like the Jebel Fureidis near Bethlehem, it is conspicuous from every direction. Its modern name Neby Samwil—The Tomb of Samuel—embalms the memory of the prophet, who here judged Israel. With very strong probability it is identified with Mizpeh, i.e. the Watch-tower, a name exactly appropriate to this lofty eminence, from which a view is gained over the whole of Southern Palestine. Here the prophet summoned Israel to war against their oppressors, or convened them for judgment; here “he took a stone and set it between Mizpeh and Shen, and called the name of it Eben-ezer, saying, Hitherto, hath the Lord helped us;” and here was heard, for the first time, the cry of devout loyalty, so often repeated since, “God save the king.”^[174]

About two hours after leaving Jerusalem, we reach a small town, Bireh, the Beeroth of the Gibeonites,^[175] but which has a deeper interest from its connection with the life of our Lord. It was the first stage for the pilgrims returning northward from Jerusalem, where they halted for the night. The stragglers who had lingered in the city here rejoined their companions and resumed their journey to Galilee on the following morning. The Child Jesus having tarried behind in Jerusalem, “Joseph and His mother knew not of it; but they, supposing Him to have been in the company, went a day’s journey; and they sought Him amongst their kinsfolk and acquaintance. And when they found Him not, they turned back again to Jerusalem seeking Him.”^[176]

A little to the north-west of Beeroth, we approach an Arab village, standing on the ridge of a hill with a valley on either side. To the eastward the ridge rises considerably, giving an extensive view over the Jordan valley. A desolate moorland, strewn with ruins, stretches away to the north. As we enter the village, the first of the wretched and squalid houses which comprise it, makes some pretension to architectural decorations in a form not uncommon through central Palestine—over the doorway a couple of willow-pattern plates are let into the wall. The modern name, BeitÎn, is but a reminiscence of its ancient and venerable one Bethel. But except the name there is little to remind us that we are on a spot so memorable in Jewish history. A large reservoir, similar to those at Solomon’s Pools and Hebron,—three hundred and fourteen feet long by two hundred and seventeen wide, constructed of massive Jewish masonry, may not improbably go back to a very early period. It is now empty except after heavy rains; but it was formerly filled by the springs at which Abram doubtless watered his flocks and herds when, entering the land of Canaan, “he pitched his tent, having Bethel on the west, and Hai on the east, and there he builded an altar unto the Lord, and called upon the name of the Lord.”^[177]

The patriarch after his journey into Egypt, returned “unto the place where his tent had been at the beginning, between Bethel and Hai unto the place of the altar which he had made there at the first, and there Abram called upon the name of the Lord,” for wherever he pitched his tent there he built an altar—an example to all future ages of household piety and domestic worship. It was here and now that the strife occurred between his herdsmen and those of his nephew Lot. Standing on the high ground already spoken of, the younger man “lifted up his eyes and beheld all the plain of the Jordan that it was well watered everywhere ... even as the garden of the Lord ... then Lot chose him all the plain of the Jordan, and Lot journeyed east; and they separated themselves the one from the other.” As one contrasts the barren rocky hills around us with the rich and fertile plain of Sodom, the self-denial of “the Father of the faithful,” becomes very striking and instructive. A new meaning is thus given to the promise which followed upon the choice of Abram: “And the Lord said unto him, after that Lot was separated from him, Lift up thine eyes, and look from the place where thou now art, northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward; for all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed for ever.... Arise, walk through the land, in the length of it and in the breadth of it; for I will give it unto thee.”^[178] The blessing which thus came upon “faithful Abraham,” will surely be inherited by all who, like him, are content to forego present advantages in the service and at the call of God.

Of the city which once stood upon this site scarcely any trace remains. A careful examination of the ruins of a Christian church, probably of the date of the Crusades, shows that it has been built out of an older edifice. The size of many of the stones and the peculiar bevel on the edge shows that the original edifice was Jewish.

The foundations of other ancient structures may be traced on the hill-side, and near its summit are the remains of a tower which still rises to a considerable height. Nothing has yet been discovered to fix the site of the temple which Jeroboam built here to rival that at Jerusalem, or of the altar where, as he stood to offer incense, he was rebuked by the fearless prophet, followed by the withering of the monarch’s arm, and the miraculous overthrow of the altar.^[179] A Jewish tradition tells us that the temple was so built that the idol-priests could look down upon that of Solomon on Mount Moriah. From the top of the tower this cannot now be done, but the Mount of Olives is distinctly visible almost to its base. Jerusalem is hidden by an intervening hill. I was told by my dragoman that a few years ago, before the upper courses of masonry had been removed, the temple platform could be seen, and it was evident that a very small addition to the height at which I stood would render this quite practicable.

It was somewhere in the rock-strewn moorland, which stretches around the city, that Jacob, travelling northward, a fugitive from his father’s house at Beersheba, received the mysterious vision, which formed the turning point in his career. Standing amongst these heaps of stones and sheets of smooth, bare rock, it is easy to realize the scene as “he tarried there all night because the sun was set, and he took of the stones of the place and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep.”^[180]

The historian goes on to tell us that “the name of that city was called Luz at the first,” implying an earlier Canaanitish settlement. A curious and interesting trace of this fact is found in the stone-circles, resembling those in our own country, which still exist on the east of the city. There are numerous instances in Palestine of the occurrence of dolmens and rude stone circles. We must doubtless refer them to the early settlers, antecedent to the Hebrew conquest.

We now leave the sterile rocky heights of Benjamin and Judah, and shall soon enter upon the fertile plains and valleys of Samaria. The soil is richer and better cultivated. The hills are terraced up to their summits, and are covered with corn-fields and orchards. In the days of prosperity and plenty, when “every man sat under his own vine and fig-tree,” even the barren slopes of Southern Palestine were brought under cultivation. They drew “honey from the rock, and oil out of the flinty rock.” Even yet we can trace the lines of these ancient terraces showing what the land once was, and what it may yet become again when “the time to favour Zion, yea, the set time, is come.” But now these long lines or scattered heaps of stones only add to the general sense of desolation. In the country north of Bethel, however, we come to many districts in which something of the former fertility and prosperity may yet be found. From our camp in Ain Haramiyeh, or Robbers’ Fountain, a few miles north of Bethel, we could see the hills clothed to their very summits with fig-gardens, now in their bright spring greenery. A Syrian gentleman, who was my frequent companion through this part of Palestine, plucked the young figs as he passed without stint or scruple. His reply to my question as to his right to do so was instructive as throwing light upon an incident in the life of our Lord as to which some difficulty has been felt. In the early spring, when the first leaves appear, an immense number of small figs are produced, which do not ripen but fall from the branches, crude and immature, to the ground. To these we find a reference in the Apocalypse “as a fig-tree casteth her untimely figs.”^[181] The true crop is not produced till later in the year. This first crude “untimely” growth, though of no commercial value, is yet plucked and eaten by the peasantry, sometimes with a pinch of salt, sometimes with bread. Like the wild fruit of our hedgerows it is free to all passers-by. It was just at this early season, before the feast of the passover, that our Lord and His disciples, having walked from Bethany, “hungered.” Seeing a fig-tree “afar off having leaves,” they sought fruit and “found nothing thereon but leaves only, for the time of figs was not yet.”^[182] That is to say, seeing leaves they had a right to expect fruit. Finding fruit they would have had a right to pluck it, “for the time of figs was not yet,” the true and valuable crop was not yet produced. This incident He turned into a solemn lesson of warning to the Jews. It was at the close of His public ministry. “Behold, these three years I come seeking fruit and finding none,”^[183]—nothing but the leaves of mere profession and outward privilege. The time of forbearance and patient pitying delay had passed—that of rejection and destruction had come; “and He said unto it, Let no fruit grow on thee henceforward for ever. And presently the fig-tree withered away.”

“On the north side of Bethel, on the east side of the highway that goeth up from Bethel to Shechem, and on the south of Lebonah,”^[184] stood Shiloh, exactly on the spot thus precisely indicated is the village of SeilÛn, the Arabic form of its ancient name. It stands on a slight eminence, rising from an extensive plain. An ancient well probably marks the spot where “the daughters of Shiloh came out to dance in dances” at their annual festival, and were carried away as brides by the Benjamites who had crossed the frontier.^[185] Of the tabernacle in which the ark rested, from the time of Joshua to that of Samuel, no trace, of course, remains. But on the summit of a little knoll we find the remains of what was once a Jewish synagogue, afterwards used as a church, and subsequently as a mosque. On the lintel over the doorway, between two wreaths of flowers, is carved a vessel shaped like a Roman amphora; it so closely resembles the conventional type of the “pot of manna” as found on coins and in the ruins of the synagogue at Capernaum, that it doubtless formed part of the original building. It is a not improbable conjecture that the synagogue may have been erected on the sacred spot which for so many generations formed the centre of Jewish worship. And in the rock sepulchres with which the neighbouring hill-sides are honey-combed, the remains of Eli, and of the high-priests who had ministered before him at the altar were doubtless laid to rest.

There are few spots in Palestine of which the identification is more certain, or the associations more interesting than Shiloh. Here the childless wife prayed; and when her prayer had been heard she brought the infant Samuel (Asked of the Lord), and said to the aged priest, “Oh my lord, as thy soul liveth, my lord, I am the woman that stood by thee here, praying unto the Lord. For this child I prayed; and the Lord hath given me my petition which I asked of Him: therefore also I have lent him to the Lord: as long as he liveth shall he be lent to the Lord.” The incidents which followed—the annual visit of the happy mother, the little coat, made with such loving care, for the absent boy, the child Samuel “growing in stature and in favour both with the Lord and also with men,” the aged, sorrowful priest, the mysterious voice in the silence of the night, the mournful tragedy of Eli’s death, and the universal recognition of “all Israel, from Dan even to Beersheba that Samuel was established to be a prophet of the Lord,”^[186]—have delighted infancy and instructed manhood throughout the civilized world for three thousand years.

The subsequent history of this favoured spot is very mournful. Partaking in the wickedness and idolatry of Samaria, and then deserted by the apostate people for more favoured shrines, it soon sank down into ruin and desolation, so that in the time of the later kings it became a conspicuous instance of the fate which awaits all who forsake God. God “forsook the tabernacle of Shiloh, the tent which He placed among men.” “But go ye now unto my place which was in Shiloh, where I set my name at the first, and see what I did to it for the wickedness of my people Israel.” “I will make this house (the Temple) like Shiloh, and will make this city a curse to all the nations of the earth.”^[187] The same lesson is thus taught us here as in the cities in which our Lord’s mighty works were performed, that privileges abused or neglected can only increase our guilt and deepen our ruin.