By Rolo B. Cena
No, it was not a coincidence. I felt that some kind of a force far greater than mine must have brought me here.
As a project team leader in Saudi Arabia, I went to Jordan with two others to conduct systems users training for my team members working in our research and development facility. My first week in Amman seemed like a long, exhausting week, but pretty rewarding. As soon as we got back to the hotel, our host unit head recommended sightseeing some historic sites often visited in Jordan. My response was lukewarm. Historic sites?
But when my teammate, a Jordanian working with me in Riyadh re-opened the idea of visiting historic sites twisting it to Christian Pilgrimage Sites, I started to sense the big wow! I felt more than just excitement; I felt my adrenaline gushing. I knew it would be a trip of a lifetime.
Weekend came and my teammate dropped by my room instead of proceeding to the lobby where our chauffeur would be waiting for us. He showed me the map of Jordan with all its Pilgrim sites: the Baptism Site of Jesus, the Memorial of Moses, the Dead Sea, the Remains of the Roman Citadel, the Madaba Church, the Red Sea, etc. Ergo, these all would get me on my feet!
In a scant hour trip, we traveled northwest passing tract of arid earth of the valley where Jordan River nestled. As we drew nearer, my heart was pounding.
The Baptism Site was declared a heritage site and was in fact consecrated by no less than Pope John Paul II. Since then, the place was protected and all tourists would have to pay for the pass and a guided tour.
The walkway was rather jagged, bushy on both sides with all its branches extending upwards forming an arc-like canopy. The shade was cooling the path especially during summer. At the end of the walkway was St. John the Baptist Spring. According to the guide, it’s where John fetched water that he poured to the head of Jesus in the river.
Oops, I know you would react. It’s not me re-writing the centuries-old narrative, it’s the Orthodox account. Our Jordanian guide, trained by the Baptism Site Commission, was equipped with their narrative for years now.
The tour brought us farther to the bank of the River, where an old Byzantine Church stood. According to historical accounts, it’s where Christian gatherings were held after that significant event that shaped Christianity. Farther down the edge of the bank, steps led us to a canopy where a white cloth was drooped. It’s the actual spot where Jesus was actually baptized. It’s mesmerized me!
At this point, I can’t help but imagine how enthusiastic John must have been in meeting Jesus to fulfill the prophecy. A strange vibe shrouded my composure while in a frenzied moment. I visualized John walking along this path towards the river to meet his cousin. I was so stunned!
For the first time after three years in the Middle East, I once again experienced the Christian in me: How emotional I was walking the path where John did, touching the bushes that lined the path that he undoubtedly toyed with his fingers, feeling the weight of hanging olives that speckled the valley, touching the cool waters of the river, and feeling the great vibe of this historic place. Wow, it was captivating!
Nearby stood the Orthodox Church of St. John the Baptist. I went inside and was drawn to its altar by a sound of what seemed to me music from an organ. I prayed intently and articulated my petition for a sign for a decision I would have to make before the close of the month. We then dropped by its souvenir shop, where, without hesitation, I bought a scapular of Mary, Holy Bible, and Holy Rosary. I felt my humanity was alive again!
Mission accomplished, we prepared to fly for our next stop, another city north of Saudi Arabia. But Mushkila! I could not bring these religious stuffs into the Kingdom. If I’d get caught, I’d be imprisoned, if not beheaded. However, I wouldn't want to leave these items either. Somehow, I already had connected with these items since I bought them two weeks ago. In fact, Idreamed of them for two nights now with the music I heard in the church.
We met for dinner and for the scheduled pep talk. It was then I learned that the Jordanian would be bringing his car to Saudi Arabia via courier. Then he offered to help.
But how would it be done? He prided that, as an Arab Jordanian his car wouldn’t be subjected to inspection. He’d pack my religious stuffs and would position them under the sheets in the trunk. His personal luggage would also be deposited inside the trunk. Bingo!
Before we left, the Jordanian revealed one thing that surprised me: He’s an immigrant to Jordan from Palestine who was born and raised in Nablus, the modern-day name of the biblical Samaria. Undoubtedly, the power of St. John the Baptist worked for me; I was guided and blessed!
And the Jordanian, a Good Samaritan indeed!
