LETTER TO REV. JOHN ROXBURGH, OF ST JOHN’S, DUNDEE - Robert Murray Mcchene

The Holy Land

JERUSALEM, June 17, 1839.

MY DEAR FRIEND, —I am sure you will be glad to hear from your brother in the ministry, in this land trodden by the feet of “God manifest in the flesh.” My thoughts wander continually to the spot where God first counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry; where, for two years, He made me a happy minister of the gospel, and where I believe I have many praying friends who will not forget me so long as I live. In these sweet remembrances—whether in the vales of Italy, or on the mighty waters, or in the waste howling wilderness, or in this land of promise—you and your family have their constant place. I doubt not also that you often think and talk of me. When some Church Extension expedition has turned out well, you will say, “What would our travelling friend say to this?” Or when the liberties of our church are infringed, and the arm of unhallowed power is raised against her, you perhaps think a moment, “How will our traveller bear this!” I am thankful to Him who dwelt in the bush that we are all here in safety, and I myself in moderate health, quite able to endure the fatigues of travelling, although these have been very great. You would hear of our swift journey through France, and our pleasant stay in Italy. Malta was the next place of interest we came to. It is a very lovely island, having customs from every nation almost under heaven. It is highly important as a centre of missionary operations, having a printing press, and some useful, excellent men employed. In riding round its rocky shore, we looked on every creek with interest, remembering Paul’s shipwreck here, and his three months’ stay in the island. The atmosphere is truly pleasant, and the sky has a peculiarly fine tinge of yellowish red. We had a pleasant sail past Greece, and among the wonderful islands of the Ægean Sea. We landed on one called Syra, and saw the mission actively engaged, 600 Greek children reading God’s word in Greek. The same evening, we sailed between Naxos and Paros, where the beautiful marble was found, and stretched our eyes to see Patmos, where the beloved John wrote the Revelation. We could only see the waves that washed its shore. We passed Crete and read the Epistle to Titus with a new interest; and the next day at four (13th May) sailed into the harbor of Alexandria. The costumes of the East are very striking to the eye at first. The turban, the beard, the hyke or immense plaid, the wide Arab trousers, the black visages and legs of the men, quite arrest the attention. The close veil, the forehead ornaments, the car-rings, the anklets, the burden carried on the head, the children carried on the shoulder, or on the side, —all these in the women are striking, especially at first. They will recall to you many of the words of the prophets. The plague having broken out at Alexandria the day we arrived, we were prevented from going up to Cairo; and after having visited the Jews in the synagogues, we determined on proceeding through the desert for the Holy Land, that we might escape quarantine. We left Alexandria on the14th of May and reached Jerusalem on the 7th of June. We were about twenty-two days living after the manner of Bedouins in the wilderness.

Mount Carmel, 24th June 1839. —I thought to have got this letter finished in Jerusalem; but we were hurried away so unexpectedly in consequence of a considerable increase of the plague in the Holy City then, that I had to leave this, and many other things undone. You will see by the date that we are now beside that mountain where God did such wonders in the days of Elijah. We are encamped in our tents within a few yards of the sea. I am now writing upon a mat on the sand. The thermometer is somewhere about 80°, and I am writing with my desk on my knee. For the sake of distinctness, I will take up the thread of our story where I last left it off. Our journey through the desert was a very trying one in many ways. I now understand the meaning of the text which says, “God led the Israelites through the wilderness to try them, and prove them, and make them know what was in their hearts.” The loneliness is very great. The utter silence of all the world to you, —the want of every necessary except what you carry along with you, —all these try the soul in a way you can hardly imagine, whether we will cast all our care upon God or no. The first part of the desert journey we went upon asses; but the second and longest part upon camels—a mode of journeying of all others the most fatiguing. I have thought a hundred times what a singular picture it would make, to draw our company riding through the desert, exalted to the giddy height of the hunch of the camel. I have often thought also, more seriously and properly, how plainly God heard the prayers of all our dear friends in preserving us from many dangers. It is quite a miracle that I was enabled to bear the fatigue of being up before sunrise, and sailing over that burning wilderness, often twelve hours a day. We came the nearest way from Egypt, alluded to in Exod. 13:17, and had opportunity of seeing Rosetta and Damietta, two curious Egyptian towns. We sailed across a lake called Menzaleh, and encamped one night beside the ruins of the ancient Zoan. Amid these we could plainly trace the finger of God in the fulfilment of the words in Ezek. 30:14: “I will set fire in Zoan.” At El Arish, the last town of Egypt, we clearly traced what we believed to be the river of Egypt, so often spoken of as the boundary of Judah. Like all the streams in the south, it is perfectly dry; but the watercourse was very evident. By the way, this suggests the meaning of a text which I never understood before, Ps. 126: “Turn our captivity as the streams in the south.” In the whole of the south part of Canaan the streams dry up in the summer. I think we only came upon one flowing stream between the Nile and the and Jerusalem. In the winter God restores these streams, supplying them with abundance of water. Now this is the very prayer of the Psalmist: “Do for our brethren in captivity what Thou doest for the streams in the south. Restore them in all their life, and fulness, and beauty.” So may it be in all our parishes in all our beloved Scotland, —never so lovely or desirable as when we are far from it, and from its pleasant Sabbaths. I must tell you know about Jerusalem. It is indeed the most wonderful place I was ever in. We reached it about twelve o’clock, under a burning sun. The bleak rocky hills over which we crossed were like a heated oven; but all was forgotten when the city of the Great King came in sight. “Your house is left unto you desolate.” That word was upon every tongue. Almost every approach to Jerusalem gives you this desolate feeling; but when you stay there, and wander down into its deep valleys, or climb its terraced hills, or sit beside shady Siloam, whose waters flow softly, or meditate on Mount Zion, ploughed like a field, the whole current of your feelings is made to flow, and Jerusalem presents the remains of departed beauty such as you seek for in vain in any other land. The scene which might seem of greatest interest in Jerusalem is Calvary, where the Son of God died. But God has so willed it that nothing, but pain and disappointment follow the inquirer after the spot where the blood flowed which cleanses from all sin. You know there is a great church built over the place. The hole made by the cross is enclosed in a star of gold; and a marble slab covers what they call the sepulcher. They tell you so many heinous falsehoods, that we were all inclined to doubt the whole matter. The place in Jerusalem is now within the walls, instead of “without the gate.” There is no mount, no garden, nothing to remind you of that day of awful interest Gethsemane makes up in interest all that we want in Calvary. The very place remains, and by its simplicity convinces the mind that it was the spot that Jesus loved. Above you, on the opposite side of Kedron, the high steep brow of Moriah rises; then the wall of the city; and above it the Mosque of Omar, which stands on the site of God’s holy temple. The road to Bethany passes in front of the garden. The path up the Mount of Olives forms another boundary. It is enclosed with old stone walls like all the walls of Judea, of rude stones, without any cement. Eight very old olives of a thousand years at least, stand as monuments in the place. It is a sweet and sacred spot; and you will not wonder that we were often drawn to visit it, and to pray on the very spot where Jesus sweated great drops of blood. The Mount of Olives is a hill of which you never weary. As you ascend it from Gethsemane, every step gives you a new prospect. We turned round again and again to look upon Jerusalem. Jeremiah says, “From the daughter of Zion all beauty is departed.” And I believe, if we had seen “the perfection of beauty” in the day of its glory, we would say the same. Still from the Mount of Olives it is most beautiful. You see “the mountains all standing round about Jerusalem.” The whiteness of the buildings gives it a dazzling appearance. The deep valleys on every side are very remarkable. On the north, a rising tower marks Ramah, where Samuel was born; and on the south, the eye fixes on Herodion, a conical hill beside Bethlehem. When you come to the top of Olivet, you look to the east, and the Dead Sea seems to be stretched at your feet. The mountains of Moab look quite near; and you try to find out Pisgah, where Moses enjoyed his view of the good land. Bethany appears upon the east side of a declivity near you, —a pleasant village. Twice we wandered out as far as Bethany. It was pleasant indeed to sit under its spreading fig-trees, and to read over John 11. Returning by the Jericho road, we stop at the spot where Jesus wept over the city. It is the place where you “come near and behold the city,” at the descent of the Mount of Olives. After full consideration, I believe it to be the very spot. Zion is literally ploughed like a field. I have brought with me some barley that I found growing on its summit. Jerusalem is become heaps. The heaps of ruins within the city are amazing; in some parts they are higher than the walls. “The mountain of the house is like the high places of the forest.” Mount Moriah has now two Turkish mosques upon it. Aceldama is a peaceful spot, overhanging the pleasant valley of Hinnom, once the scene of hideous rites. The plague was very severe in the city during our stay there, which prevented us from having that close intercourse with the inhabitants, and especially with the Jews, which was so desirable. Mr. Nicolayson, the English missionary, acted towards us like a brother. He lodged us in one of the mission houses upon Mount Zion and gave us opportunity of preaching and of receiving the Lord’s Supper. It was truly pleasant to eat of that bread and drink of that cup in an Upper Room in Jerusalem. There are about 5000 Jews in Jerusalem, very poor and very divided among themselves, looked down upon as dogs by the Moslems; still, they bear in their faces and manners the proof that the land is their own. They are entirely supported by contributions from Europe. They devote themselves to the study of the Law and the Talmud. I had an interesting meeting with one Jew at the large stones, the only remains of God’s temple. He was sitting praying and looking very sad. I asked him what he was reading. He showed me; it was Psalm 22 in Hebrew. I took it up and read it over to him. He said he understood it, and that it applied to David. I showed him that could not be, for David was never pierced in hands and feet. I shortly explained to him the gospel and showed him the only way of forgiveness. He looked very sad sitting on the ground. 

I must hurry on. We visited Hebron and had an interesting meeting with the Jews there. It is a delightful place. We visited Bethlehem on our return. It is curious that almost all the inhabitants of Bethlehem are Christians, that is, Greeks and Catholics. We left Jerusalem on the 18th instant, and proceeded north by Ramah, Gibeon, Bethel, Sychar, Samaria, to Carmel. I cannot tell you the delightful and solemn feelings with which we traverse this land of promise. The fulfilment of prophecy is everywhere remarkable. At Sychar we tried to find out the well where Jesus sat wearied. Mr. Bonar found it and let his Bible fall into it. He could not get it again, “for the well is deep.” Ebal on the north, a frowning rocky hill. Gerizzim is also precipitous but smiles with verdant gardens. Sychar is a beautiful place. We spent a most interesting morning among the Jews and Samaritans, saw both their synagogues, and reasoned with them out of the Scriptures, proving that Jesus is the Christ. Oh, that the Saviour would do as He did before in this place, —say plainly, “I that speak unto thee am He!” When we meet, if that be the will of God, I shall have many descriptions to give you of the scenes of this land. It has far surpassed all my expectations. We arrived at Carmel on Saturday and are now in quarantine. We and all our clothes were yesterday bathed in the sea. In consequence of undergoing this process our quarantine is seven days shorter; and on Monday next we hope to proceed to Tiberias and Saphet, the only places of importance for Jews, except Tyre and Sidon, which we shall visit on our way to Beyrout. We are sorry that so much of our time is taken up; but we have gone as quickly as possible in the circumstances. We are all in good health. I suffer occasionally from my heart, but much less than I used. I do hope, if it be the will of my Master, that I may yet again serve Him in the gospel of his Son. This is a delicious climate. I have heard once from home. I am thankful to hear of the peace and grace given to my people on our communion-day. Dear people, may the great Shepherd feed them! I was happy to hear of Dr Chalmers’ success. Dismayed at the decision of the Lord Chancellor; but “Jehovah nissi,” — the Lord is our banner. My kindest regards to Mrs. R., and to the brethren that ask for me. I often pray most humbly for all, even my enemies. — Yours ever, etc.