Crossing Over

By Ashleigh Brilliant   |   February 13, 2024

The River Jordan is celebrated in many “spiritual” songs. Most of us have heard lines like:

Jordan river blessed but cold – 
Chills the body, but not the soul. 

“Crossing Jordan” has long been seen as a metaphor for going to Heaven. It all goes back to the Biblical account of that River having to be crossed by the Children of Israel (after 40 years of wandering in the wilderness) before they could enter the Promised Land.

Of course, there is still – and always has been – a real Jordan River. Today it separates part of Israel from the country of Jordan (which used to be called Trans-Jordan.) And I personally have both pleasant and unpleasant memories of my own crossings of that river. On the first occasion (in 1953), I was with a group of Jewish students spending a summer in Israel. When we visited the Sea of Galilee (which Israelis call Lake Kinneret) two of us decided to explore the area from which the Jordan flowed south. What we found was that, where it “began,” the river was only a few meters wide, and easy to swim across, which we did. In those days, the water was still quite clear, and good for swimming. On a subsequent visit, some 30 years later, I was dismayed to see how polluted that whole area had become – with the shore of the Lake lined with washed-up litter.

That second visit was with a non-sectarian organization called “Earthstewards,” which was dedicated to international peace-making, and our purpose at that time was to help improve the relations between Israel and her Arab neighbors by having overnight stays at homes on both sides of the border. 

We started by flying directly from the U.S. to Amman, capital city of the Kingdom of Jordan. There, in the Royal Palace our group of 12 had a “private audience” with the Queen, whose name was Noor – an attractive young woman who had actually grown up in America. She spoke to us about Jordan’s desire to be at peace with all other countries. Then, before we were dismissed, her husband King Hussein (who was much shorter) came in with a smile and made a few friendly remarks.

After overnights with local families, we spent the next day visiting Jordan’s biggest tourist attraction – the ancient city of Petra, with fantastic buildings carved out of solid rock.

But from there my River Jordan crossing – on a bridge to Israel – turned out to be far from holy. At the Israeli checkpoint there was a customs inspection, which I expected would be a mere formality since I had only a backpack. But it was found to contain contraband, which was seized and confiscated! 

What illicit substance was I attempting to smuggle into Israel?… a few beautiful apples, which I had brought all the way from California to eat on the journey. When I protested, I was reminded that America also had customs officers similarly trained to prevent fruit (and potential fruit diseases) from being imported. 

But the thought of “going over Jordan” came back to me some time later, in a very different setting – the foothills of the Himalayas. I was with a group of American tourists visiting Nepal, and one night our destination was a hotel, where we were very eager to dine and rest after a long, uncomfortable day of bus travel. But to our dismay, we found that the hotel was on an island in a lake – and the only way to reach it was by means of a “ferry” consisting of a very primitive wooden raft. On this dubious vessel, upon which we were all crowded with our luggage, there wasn’t even a railing to protect anyone from falling into the water. There was no motor, and the only propulsion was in the form of one ferryman pulling on a rope, which was attached to either shore. This form of transportation would surely never have passed any safety inspection in our comfortable Western world. 

But here I did something which, happily, lifted everybody’s spirits. I started singing that Jordan-crossing spiritual about rowing the boat ashore, which several others knew, and joined in on. One member of our group was a rather large lady, who listened to the song, but didn’t join in. I’ll never forget her comment after we sang the verse that says:

“Jordan river deep and wide –

Milk and honey on the other side.”

“Milk and honey!” she said – “Is
that all?”  

 

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