Places are by themselves just places on our little Earth. We put enormous meaning on places based on our history and beliefs. The place of Jesus' baptism is by itself just a location near a drying up river in a very hot valley, but I have seen hundreds of representations of the baptism of Jesus from Italian Renaissance paintings to modern film versions. I know that the site of baptism and Mt. Nebo exist more in my imagination than in the reality of the place, but I still am waiting with happy anticipation to go and touch the ground near the Jordan River and on Mt. Nebo. In thinking about places with such cultural and religious resonance I have been thinking back to the reflective art sculpture we saw in Chicago--in looking at the world we see ourselves reflected.
When I arrive at the site of Jesus' baptism I know that I won't see angels such as Leonardo's angel in Andrea del Verrocchio's Renaissance painting, but in a way I might. If I had the faith of Elisha in Tolstoy's short story titled Two Old Men then I could see angels, but then I wouldn't even need to travel to the Jordan River or Jerusalem. In Tolstoy's story it is Elisha and not his companion Efim who truly makes it to the holy places of Jerusalem and the Jordan Valley, even though Elisha never travels beyond Russia. It is a powerful story which I will try to read again tonight @ http://www.online-literature.com/tolstoy/2891/.In less literary terms, the world I see is filtered through the experiences I have had in the past. The Jordan River that I will see is laid on top of all the Jordan Rivers and Mt. Nebos that I have seen and felt before. I know that the Jordan River that I see today won't be a Verrochhio, but I want to believe...
Before I set out with our group of Jordanian and American teachers I allow Buttercup and George W. to pose with large salt rocks from the Dead Sea and a few boxes destined for Andrea. I have a good feeling about showing Andrea, and others, the size of the Dead Sea salt rocks--it makes our separation in distance just a physical separation since we can share images and thoughts across the world.
Given the mundane or ordinary approach to the site of Jesus' baptism on the Jordan River, I was not expecting to be moved by the experience. I was expecting to be the old man in Tolstoy's story who makes it to the city of Jerusalem, but never makes it to the Jerusalem of the spirit. The hot air of Bethany-Beyond-the-Jordan or Al-Maghtas or the Site of Baptism surrounded me, and us, as we got off the air conditioned bus. When air gets to a certain temperature it takes on a liquid like nature. You move through the air noticing your movement through every cubic inch of space. The air I moved through was hot and dry, and somewhat like the type of heat that comes out of an oven when opened for the main course of a family meal.
After paying for our admission we drove from the entrance to an area close to the Jordan River. The area is a bit restricted because Israel/Palestine is a stone's throw away just across the river on the West Bank. The air became richer and fuller with life as we walked towards the Jordan River on a path through short trees with overhanging branches. The Jordan River is larger than I thought it would be and at the same time much smaller than it was two thousands years ago during the time of Jesus and John.
We reached the Jordan River and started taking photographs. Although I was in the midst of a tourist moment I became calm and reflective. Perhaps the rich oven like air and my thoughts of Verrocchio, Leonardo and Tolstoy were working on me in unknown ways. Once our group walked on towards the actual site of baptism I had an opportunity to pose for a picture to post on this blog to share with people thousands of miles away. 
After prompting from my fellow teacher I also posed with Buttercup, George Washingtoe, and Leon. Images of Andrea, Anton, and Connie came into my mind as I posed with the animals for a photograph. 
Moments earlier, thoughts of and feelings about my grandmothers had come to me since I was about to see a place of such significance to their faith. Thoughts of my mom had come to me for her understanding of Tolstoy. Thoughts of my dad had flitted through my mind because of how much he would have enjoyed seeing me with a delegation of teachers. Thoughts of my sister came as I wondered if she had also been to the Jordan River. My mind became filled with images of and feelings about the people I love. 
I don't know how to describe the feeling, but I found a calmness and rightness about being next to the Jordan River thinking about my loved ones and the artists who had represented the baptism for me. An hour later on the way from the Jordan River to Mt. Nebo I had a thought. I had seen angels.
My angels are the people that I love and the artists who resonate with me. When we think about our loves then we are touched in our deepest and most spiritual self by the feeling of love. I am connected with love and reminded of the part of me that exists beyond myself. What are angels, but the connection between us and the place of spiritual love? Angels are spiritual bridges. My angels are the people that I love, and while I was thinking about them something appeared behind me. If you expand the above picture you will see a blur over my right shoulder. I went to the Jordan River with doubts and found angels. I was perhaps even in the presence of a dove.
Just before entering the bus for Mt. Nebo I saw bird prints in an adjacent parking lot. I thought these prints were the only presence of birds that I would see. I may not have seen birds, but something was there just behind my vision. As I go to sleep tonight I am thinking of the quote from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's Little Prince: "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." I also now realize that when images of loved ones appear to me, both living and passed on, then I am connected with my angels.
