umm qays

So we packed the kids up in the car, loaded several gallons of water and some snacks in the back and then head north on route 35. The city landscape of Jerusalem stone buildings, empty lots and construction rubble opened up to larger stretches of craggy rock cliffs, valleys dotted with deep green olive trees and bedouin tent camps.
Flocks of dusty sheep milled close to the stretch of highway where trucks loaded with crates of pomegranate and cactus fruit crowded in on rusted-out Mercedes-Benz and other cars stuffed with passengers. In these cars, toddlers pressed their noses against the back windshield, waving, while their older siblings hung out of open windows. Trying not to let my mother hen instincts get the better of me, I smiled and waved back.
Just after the last day of Eid, the time of feasting after the month of Ramadan, we decided to drive to Umm Qays. A city of almost five thousand, Umm Qays has also been known as Gadara. For those who know their New Testament, this was the very place in which Christ called demons out of two men. Matthew 8 records this event and says that Christ sent the demons into a herd of pigs which immediately rushed down a cliff and drowned in the water. The place was Gadara and the water was the Sea of Galilee.
When Rome ruled the world, Gadara was also counted among the cities of the Decapolis (six are in Jordan, the rest are elsewhere in the Middle East).
Another layer of history that we were excited about seeing was the Ottoman village built atop largely unexcavated Roman ruins.
When we arrived in Umm Qays, a high limestone wall bordered the parking lot. We ate a quick snack then headed up the stone steps to the small ticket enclave.
Ahmed, a tall, dark-skinned Arab, offered to give us a tour for 2 jordanian dinars. I looked at Steve and with a nod, we decided that for two dinars, it was worth it. Turns out that Ahmed's family had lived in the Ottoman village until 1976, when the Tourism authorities paid off the scores of Jordanian families who had been living there and proclaimed the site a historic and tourist area.
Ahmed led us along the black basalt road and pointed out where he had lived as a young boy, among other comments about the area's history and features. The houses were simple-- squares of basalt and limestone, in places almost like a checkerboard, with cutouts for doors and windows.
We climbed up stairs to the top of a Roman amphitheater and sat at the stone-backed chairs that were specially designed for patricians and other noble families. The amphitheatre could hold about 3,600 people. At the bottom of the steps, where politicians gave speeches and musicians wove melodies, Ahmed showed us the very place where our voices would carry through the whole place. I watched as my eldest shouted out, "Hello, my name is --------!" and shyly smiled as his voice echoed against the stone semi-circle theatre.
We walked along the path to see the series of Roman vendors, square shops beside the street that once served a vibrant city, the "Athens of the East." The kids sat inside one of the shops, out of breath and away from the incessant heat. They hooted and giggled as echoes bounced off the cool stone.
Ahmed led us off the Roman road for a few minutes to climb up the concrete pill box, a remnant from the 1967 war with Israel. From the top of the box, we gazed over the two cities at the very edge of Jordan and saw the fissure that is a part of the Rift Valley on the border of Israel. Sweeping our eyes upward, the Golan Heights spread out before us, reminders of the conflict that still remains between Israel and the rest of the Arab World.
To the left, Lake Tiberius, or in Biblical times, the Sea of Galilee lay quietly. It was truly breathtaking.
The kids ran down into the pill box, then climbed up iron rungs in a chimney-like structure to the top, only to run downstairs again. Ahmed took my son aside, trying to engage my active boy, by sharing a story from his childhood.
"When it rained, we would run along the roads to search for old coins and mosaic tiles. I have a whole collection of ancient Roman coins from when I was a boy."
My son listened for a moment, turned his head as if to ponder a moment, then ran off to play again.
The rest of the afternoon was exploring-- a newly excavated Roman villa; the Nympheum, a place where women would take baths and showers; a Byzantine church; Temple of Zeus; a cistern and then imagining hundreds of meters of aquaduct which brought fresh water into the city.
When the tour ended, I gave Ahmed his money and then some. We had been given the gift of seeing relevent history-- Umm Qays through the eyes of a man who had once lived there-- and who was keeping his story alive by sharing it with tourists like us.
We parted at the Resthouse, a beautiful stone building atop the highest point of the city (which also was Ahmed's school when he was a child). We sat down for lunch with a view overlooking the lake, the Golan Heights and Syria. Twisted vines and bright pink Bougainvilla flowers trailed over our heads at our table in a quiet corner of this terrace restaurant. I looked over at my kids, faces lightly dusted with hours of playing in the remnants of three layers of history, and smiled.
We are so privileged.

Soli Deo gloria.