John Lyman - The Secret Chapel

Ariella winked. “Alon’s fiancee. She flies a helicopter in the Israeli army. You’ll meet her soon.”

Rounding a corner at the top of a hill, Jerusalem came into view sprawled out before them. The golden Dome of the Rock reflected the sun in the distance while the vehicles crawled through the city in the midmorning traffic. John felt the electricity of discovery. He knew he had come to a special place on earth and wanted to explore all of it. In addition to the beauty he had encountered, the religious significance was overwhelming.

John rolled down his window and stuck his head out to breathe in the aroma of the city. “Can you believe we’re actually driving through Jerusalem? Wow!”

Leo smiled to himself. Wait until he sees the Dead Sea and the cliffs of Masada.

“What is the name of the desert we’re going to?” John asked.

Alon turned in his seat as they came to a stop at a red light. “It’s called the Negev Desert. It’s a barren wasteland that no one except for nomadic tribes has inhabited since God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah.”

“I remember that from my studies. It is a wasteland. The Romans hated the place, and the British hated it even more. Thank God we have an air-conditioned mobile kitchen.”

Everyone laughed and talked as they drove through one of the ever-present checkpoints in Jerusalem until soon the ancient city was behind them. They drove on for a short twenty minutes until they hit Israel’s Highway 90 that ran north and south along the west bank of the Dead Sea. Leo still found it hard to believe that the famous biblical landmark was such a short drive from Jerusalem. They turned and headed south, driving for another hour until they reached a deserted roadside park beside the salt-encrusted bank at the southern tip of the Dead Sea.

Taking advantage of the stop, Ariella grabbed her camera and everyone got out to stretch their legs. The waters of the Dead Sea were the most saline on earth. Jagged, twisted shapes of dried salt rose up from crystalline pools, forming towers that seemed more at home on another planet.

Ariella wanted a visual record of the expedition and began snapping pictures. She had stacks of photo albums at home filled with images of all of the archaeological digs she had been on since she was a little girl.

She motioned to the others to come together. “Group picture everyone.” All the staff members were used to her incessant photo ops, but they usually complied with only a few moans and groans. As the group gathered together and smiled for the camera, a small half-starved dog with matted light brown hair came limping up on the hot, briny pavement and plopped down right next to John.

Leo watched as John reached down to pet the dog. “Looks like someone has a new friend.”

“They always recognize a Franciscan, Leo. Saint Francis was the patron saint of animals.”

“Everyone knows that,” Leo said. “I love animals too. Only humans avoid me.”

“That’s because Jesuits bite.”

Ariella snapped a few more pictures and walked over to join John beside a saltwater pool. He was holding the trembling dog in his arms and trying to give him sips of bottled water. The dog was lapping it up as Ariella reached out to pet him. He turned and began to lick her hand, his brown eyes reaching into her soul.

Fire blazed in Ariella’s eyes. “How could someone leave him all alone out here?”

“I can’t imagine,” John said. “This dog wouldn’t have lasted much longer in this environment. Some people seem to lack basic compassion for other creatures. It’s like their souls are different from ours, like another species. It really makes you wonder.”

“Are you going to keep him?”

“Of course,” John answered. “There’s no way I’m leaving him out here to die of thirst and starvation.”

Ariella looked back at him with a realization that only she was aware of. John now had two new friends.

John looked out at the alien landscape. “Isn’t this where Sodom and Gomorrah once stood?”

“Supposedly stood,” Ariella said. “Some scholars believe Sodom is actually across the border in nearby Jordan, but we’re still in the same neighborhood.”

“Maybe you can title your pictures ‘close to the supposed site of Sodom and Gomorrah.’” John grinned at her with the knowledge that a correction was probably forthcoming.

“I believe the actual site is another twenty miles from here, but who knows. We could be standing in the exact spot. This rest stop might be on top of the ancient city of Sodom.”

“That’s kind of creepy, Ariella.”

“I know. Let’s get going. I can feel the salt sticking to my hair already.”

The group returned to their vehicles, glad to be out of the heat, and soon the small convoy was heading down the highway deeper into the desert.

No one noticed a small car pull in to the rest area behind them and stop. The driver grabbed a camera from the center console and began taking pictures of the salt ponds before turning his camera on the departing vehicles. The passenger pushed his sunglasses back on his head and took out his cell phone. He punched in an international number and waited for an answer.

The parade of vehicles motored steadily along the paved roadway, everyone mindful of the fact that they would probably not see a gas station in the near future. Extra fuel was pulled behind one of the trucks in a large tank, while another pulled a tank full of water.

In the Land Rover, the abandoned dog now sat happily between John and Ariella in air-conditioned comfort, munching away on some roast beef John had confiscated from the mobile kitchen.

The small convoy traveled south for another fifty miles before it rolled to a stop along the side of the highway. Looking out through the windows of their vehicles, the occupants scanned the vast emptiness of the Negev Desert that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Magnificent desolation. Leo had heard astronaut Buzz Aldrin use the same words to describe the moon when he stepped out onto its surface for the first time.

The Negev Desert was one of the most isolated and desolate places on earth. Ringed with gray mountains in the distance, they could see nothing green. Except for a few hardy species of insects and snakes, the only signs of life in this arid sea of rock and sand were the Bedouin tribes who still passed through the area, clinging to their traditional nomadic ways.

Two thousand years ago, the Nabataeans controlled the ancient spice and incense route here where the caravans crossed from India and Southern Arabia to the Mediterranean. Scattered ruins of their culture could still be found among the shifting sands. The area had changed little since that time, and for the most part, the Negev remained wild and free from modern civilization.

The motorized caravan lurched forward once more before turning off the paved highway and heading deeper into the desert where there were no roads. They traveled another two hours at an agonizingly slow pace, skirting sheer cliffs that dropped into deep, shadowed canyons before the convoy drove up onto a flat crater-filled plateau. Alon glanced at his GPS and brought the Land Rover to a stop.

“I guess this is it,” Ariella announced from the backseat.

Leo looked out across the forbidding landscape and watched the shimmering waves of heat rising in the distance. “I sure hope so. I don’t think my backside could take much more bumping along over these rocks and holes.”

The other vehicles pulled to a stop around them, a modern-day version of a wagon train in the desert. They dismounted their trucks and stood under the sun, gazing at the strange beauty of the immense wilderness before them.