Chasing Chariots

Over the last couple of weeks, the Common Lectionary has taken us on a couple of road trips. 

Last week, Luke's gospel recounted the story of the Road to Emmaus, the famous post-resurrection event in which Jesus walks along the road with his disciples unrecognized until he is invited into their home to break bread.

This week, we Encounter Philip in the eighth chapter of Acts as he comes alongside an Ethiopian eunuch to teach him about Christ. 

Philip is known (traditionally) as "the Evangelist," based largely on the weight of this story.  The setting falls into the period immediately following the first Jewish persecution of the church in Jerusalem.  Many of the first converts to Christianity (including Philip) have left the city to live in the world at large.  Traditionally, the Apostle John travels to Asia Minor, for example.  One legend places Mary Magdalene in southern France during this period.

Philip, evidently, decided not to stray so far from Jerusalem.  The first we hear of him outside of Jerusalem places him in Samaria.  You don't have to be much of a Bible scholar to know how Traditional Jews felt about Samaritans in those days.  The bad blood went back generations.  That Philip would set out from Jerusalem to take up ministry in Samaria says a lot about his heart and character.  What ever drove him from Jerusalem, it probably wasn't fear, and it certainly wasn't a desire to find a comfortable place to live out his years.  This was a man driven by his calling, and a man who believed that the fulfillment of his calling meant living and ministering among marginalized people.

The trend continues in the story of the Ethiopian eunuch.  The text tells us that this man was returning from worship in Jerusalem.  What the text doesn't tell us, because the author would have assumed that his readers all knew, was that as a foreigner and a eunuch, the man would have been doubly forbidden to enter the Temple.  Evidently, he traveled there to simply get as close to the God he had come to believe in as he could.  It would have gone without saying in his own mind that there would always be some irreconcilable distance between himself and God.

But what distance he can cover for himself, he covers.  In fact, he has either borrowed or purchased a copy of a scroll containing the writings of Isaiah.  This is one of several indicators in the story that this man was a somebody.  Regular joes didn't drive around in chariots or own scrolls.  This fellow was some kind of dignitary.

According to the text, Philip ran to meet the chariot.  Apparently, he also jogged along side the chariot for at least a few minutes, discussing the scriptures, before the eunuch finally invites him to step up into the chariot.

The parallels between these two stories can hardly be coincidental.  Just as Jesus walked along side the disciples on the road, so his disciple, Philip walked alongside the eunuch's chariot.  Just as Jesus waited to be invited into the disciple's home, Philip waited to be invited into the eunuch's chariot.  In both stories, scriptures are explained.  In both stories, Jesus is ultimately revealed.

It's almost as if Philip is trying to imitate his rabbi.

I wonder what it would look like to "walk along side" the marginalized in our own time?  What if we learned to simply wait until those whose journeys we share were ready to ask their questions and invite our responses?

This is a scriptural picture of evangelism that I think the church needs to recapture for today.

By the Way...

I once heard a comedian comment that he loved people with a sense of humor.  He told of a time he overheard a passenger aboard an airplane ask the stewardess how much longer until the plane landed in Miami.

"Gosh.  I don't know," she answered.  "We've never actually made it that far."

I hope she was joking.  And not just because planes are supposed to land in airports.  We all know they usually do.

But if I ever DO wind up on a plane destined to go down in a ball of flames, I'd like to think there's a chance that at least one person on the plane would meet the occasion with good humor.  After all, is there any evidence that bracing yourself against the seat in front of you and hyperventilating actually makes any sort of difference in this situation?

Nope.  Didn't think so. 

May as well enjoy what's left of the ride.


Look at it this way:  at least there's a chance that you and your baggage will land at pretty close to the same time.


All kidding aside, the real problem with airline travel is airports, anyway.  And it's not just that they're anonymous, soulless buildings with over-priced restaurants.  It's the whole idea of a whole mode of travel that's destination-driven.  Air travel is a beginning and ending with a vast empty space in between.  No number of in-flight movies or bags of peanuts can make up for the fact that you're hurtling through space in a sensory deprivation chamber just waiting to be someplace else.


Get on a bike, or take a walk or a ride in the car, and you're on a journey.  It's not just about a destination, it's about all the little places you go through along the way.


Ours is a goal-oriented, product-driven, destination-loving culture.  And all that type A angst has found its way into our spirituality.  American Protestantism has become all about achieving salvation (through faith, of course... not works) and arriving safely at our eternal destination.


Jesus spoke seldom to people about going to Heaven.  I don't think the destination is what drove him.  After all, he'd already been there.


On one occasion, though, he did talk about going back.  He told his disciples "Where I go, there you shall be also..."


They must have exchanged meaningful glance before Thomas piped up with the obvious question.

"Uh.  Where exactly is it we're going again?  I need to put it in my GPS."


At least I think he said something like that.  I didn't actually take the time to look up the Bible verses, but I remember it being something like that.


Jesus passes up a perfect opportunity, here, to talk about the glories of the final destination and spell out the details of exactly how to get there.  Instead he says (again, I'm working from memory here):


"Way?  You want to know the way?  You want a road map?  What fun is that?  No, no, no."


Then he grinned a lopsided grin and said  "Me.  I'm the way.  I'm all you need to know."


And then he prayed a prayer and started walking.


If there's a one way, non-stop flight to Heaven, please feel free to stand in line and buy your ticket. 

For my part. I'd rather find a few good-natured traveling companions and go on foot.  Who knows what we'll see and discover along the Way.

Mobile Home

Last week, the Lectionary pointed us toward 2 Samuel 7:1-14. This passage tells us of King David's desire to build a Temple for his God. David shares this desire with the prophet Nathan, who at first recognizes this as a noble sentiment. David, after all, is seeking to offer up his best for the Lord. He finds himself uncomfortable living in luxury while the Ark (and the presence of God) are relegated to a tent at the edge of town.

Nathan is thrilled that David's conscience has been pricked in this particular way, and announces that God's hand is on the king. Nathan, like many of us, has probably seen way to much of the attitude that assigns God as the recipient of our leftovers and cast-offs. He sees in David a man who would give God a worthy gift.

He is surprised, then, when God visits him in a dream and announces that he doesn't want a Temple. God instructs Nathan to stop David, to tell David that no Temple is necessary:

⁵ "Go and tell my servant David, 'This is what the LORD says: Are you the one to build me a house to dwell in? ⁶ I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought the Israelites up out of Egypt to this day. I have been moving from place to place with a tent as my dwelling.
⁷ Wherever I have moved with all the Israelites, did I ever say to any of their rulers whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, "Why have you not built me a house of cedar?" '
God asserts that he never asked for a Temple. Further, he reminds David that his Temple is wherever his people go:

⁸ "Now then, tell my servant David, 'This is what the LORD Almighty says: I took you from the pasture and from following the flock to be ruler over my people Israel. ⁹ I have been with you wherever you have gone...


God is perfectly comfortable in a "mobile" home. He never sought to tie himself to a place, but to a people. He seems touched, however, by the sincerity of David's offer, and responds with a promise:

" 'The LORD declares to you that the LORD himself will establish a house for you: ¹² When your days are over and you rest with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, who will come from your own body, and I will establish his kingdom. ¹³ He is the one who will build a house for my Name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever. ¹⁴ I will be his father, and he will be my son. When he does wrong, I will punish him with the rod of men, with floggings inflicted by men. ¹⁵ But my love will never be taken away from him, as I took it away from Saul, whom I removed from before you. ¹⁶ Your house and your kingdom will endure forever before me ^b]">[b] ; your throne will be established forever.' "

Ensuing generations of Jews take verse 13 to apply to Solomon, who does indeed build the first Temple in Jerusalem. Solomon's Temple, however, like his throne, turns out to be temporary in nature. It falls into disrepair and must be extensively repaired, first by Josiah, and later by Hezekiah. Finally, it is destroyed by an invading force. The Prophets insist this invasion is the consequence of Israel's sin.

After the Babylonian Exile, Ezra rebuilds the Temple and calls upon the people to renew their covenant with God. A few generations later, though, this Temple is desecrated by the Persians under Antiochus Epiphanes. The stones of the altar are scattered and the sacrifices once again come to a halt. The Maccabees rebel against the Persians and rebuild the Temple altar and resume the sacrifices, but many of their contemporaries find the new Temple order to be polluted by a corrupt and unqualified priesthood.

The Temple itself receives a major overhaul under King Herod. As an edifice, Herod's Temple was noted by many in its day to be the most spectacular place of worship in existence. Herod radically expanded the Temple Mount to include a vastly larger courtyard for the Gentiles. His building project involved fillinf in a valley between to adjacent mountaintops, and extending the southern hilltop some distance into the city by building a massive retaining wall some fifty feet high. Be built massive public entrances, including a large ceremonial stoa to the south (The Southern Stairs) a broad, winding staircase connecting to the Roman Cardo (Robinson's Arch) and an elevated causeway that connected the wealthy palace district to the Temple so that the Priests and other powerful patrons could enter the Temple without mingling with the rabble.

For all of its grandeur, however, Herod's Temple was still governed by an illegitimate priesthood. Herod himself, in fact, was not even Jewish, much less a descendant of David. Priest and King alike were all puppets of Rome who carefully oversaw all that happened in the Temple district. The Romans actually occupied a fortress adjacent to and overlooking the Temple courts. They also held the priestly vestments under lock and key, guaranteeing that no worship could take place without their say so. Many Jews in the days of Herod found all of this objectionable and refused to recognize the authority of the Temple as it now stood.

Among these was a travelling rabbi from Galilee by the name of Jesus who entered the Temple gounds just before Passover and declared them "desolate." he symbolically overturned the tables of the moneychangers and drove out the sacrificial animals. He spoke of his own body as the true Temple and indicated that if it were destroyed, it could be raised back up in three days.

This was an understandably dangerous statement. Jesus' words and actions in the Temple undercut the entire political power structure of Jerusalem and Israel in his day. Eventually, it is for his words against the Temple that Jesus is found guilty of sedition and he is crucified.

One of his early followers, a man named Stephen, is also accused of speaking against the temple. He is stoned to death for this impertinence, but not before he preaches a lengthy sermon, including a reference to David's aborted desire to build a Temple:

^7:45Having received the tabernacle, our fathers under Joshua brought it with them when they took the land from the nations God drove out before them. It remained in the land until the time of David, ⁴⁶who enjoyed God's favor and asked that he might provide a dwelling place for the God of Jacob.^k]">[k] ⁴⁷But it was Solomon who built the house for him.

⁴⁸"However, the Most High does not live in houses made by men. As the prophet says:
⁴⁹" 'Heaven is my throne,
and the earth is my footstool.
What kind of house will you build for me? says the Lord.
Or where will my resting place be?
⁵⁰Has not my hand made all these things?'^l]">[l]

⁵¹"You stiff-necked people, with uncircumcised hearts and ears! You are just like your fathers: You always resist the Holy Spirit!

Stephen's point seems to be that Solomon's Temple was a mistake from the word go. God's intention had never been to live in a Temple, but for his Spirit to dwell in the lives of his people. God preffered a mobile home. This sort of talk got him killed.

Among those who attended on Stephen's stoning was a man named Pauls, who would later write to his own followers in Corinth:

^{1 Corinthians 3:16}Don't you know that you yourselves are God's temple and that God's Spirit lives in you? ¹⁷If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him; for God's temple is sacred, and you are that temple.

Another of Jesus' followers, Peter, noted that much of what Paul wrote was "difficult to understand." However, on the notion of what constituted the true Temple, he evidently agreed:

^{1 Peter 2:4}As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him— ⁵you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.

For all of these would be followers of Jesus, then, we find a common notion. The Temple in Jerusalem was a human institution. God's promise to David in 2 Samuel referred to something else: a coming king who would establish a Temple and reign forever. Hmm... let think about it...

A visit to the Temple Ruins in Jerusalem is bittersweet at so many levels. On the one hand, one is able to walk in a place where we can be certain that Jesus walked, and these places are rare, even in the Holy Land. On the other hand, no site has been the center of more interfaith conflict. The Temple Mount itself is now virtually off limits to Jews and Christians alike, a Moslem Holy Site.

And then there is a visit to the Western Wall, where devout Jews may be witnessed offering up prayers and weeping bitter tears for a bygone age. They continue to pray (as do many of their Christian counterparts) for the reconstruction of the Temple, unaware that the true Temple was destroyed by our own sinfulness two thousand years ago.

And then raised up.

That the dwelling place of God, the resurrected body of Christ, is now (has always been?) his people.

A mobile home.

All In the Same Boat

Almost everybody on our recent trip to Israel will tell you that the Sea of Galilee was one of their highlights. This is pretty predictable, of course. As Christians, many of our most treasured stories took place on or around this inland sea.

The sea itself is really a modestly sized lake, measuring about six by thirteen miles. One can stand on the shore and see across in both directions. Most of the time, the water is amazingly calm. So, also, are the holy sites that dot its shores. The churches here are of modest scale, usually surrounded by serene countryside and pastoral beauty.

All of this peace and quiet can be deceptive. At the Northwest corner of the lake stands Mt. Arbel. The mountain is not named in the gospel narrative, but it is actually a major player in one of our most beloved stories of Jesus, told here in the words of Mark, Chapter 4:


That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, "Let us go over to the other side." Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?"

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

He said to his disciples, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?"

They were terrified and asked each other, "Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!"

Mount Arbel figures into this story in two important ways.

First, this mountain stands as a gatepost to the valley which cuts from the Sea of Galilee to the Western Seaboard of Israel. As such, it defines the line for the major trading routes cutting from the North and East (Syria, Persia, and the Orient) to the South and West (Jerusalem, Egypt, and Rome.) The northern shore of the Sea of Galilee in Jesus' day was a hopping place. Excavations at Capernaum have begun to uncover the truth that Capernaum was no sleepy little fishing village, but a way-station on a major commercial thoroughfare. This accounts for the "crowds" mentioned in the story.

"Crowd" may have been a bit of an understatement here. There are indications, in fact, that "mob" might have been a better word. In Chapter 2 of Mark, the crowd has ripped the roof off of a house to get at Jesus. In Chapter 3, Mark comments that Jesus and his disciples "could not even eat" as they tried to take cover indoors. Chapter 3 also tells us that Jesus begins to preach from a boat to avoid being "crowded" (translate "mobbed".)

This, of course, is what Jesus came for. Nevertheless, the insistence of the mob appears to take its toll. I don't think I'm just projecting my own introversion onto Jesus when I suggest that he needed to get away. He asked his disciples to set sail under cover of darkness, perhaps with the intent of slipping away fro the crowds on shore and the "other boats" which have now begun to school around his preaching.

The text says the disciples took Jesus "as he was" in the boat and made for the "other side."

Perhaps we shouldn't read too much into that phrase "just as he was," but in modern usage it has certain connotations. We we invite people to an event and suggest that they "come as you are," we usually don't expect that we've caught them in tuxedo and evening gown. When we sing "Just As I Am" at the end of a worship service, it is usually not with a sense of pride, but with a sense of humility. For Jesus, in this moment, "just as he was" meant dog tired and jowls-a-draggin'.

No surprise that he immediately falls asleep as his disciples row.

Here, Mount Arabel re-enters the story. The same valley that carries the Roman Highway into the region also carries the weather. The valley can funnel violent storms into the northern end of the Sea of Galilee in an instant. The ordinarily glassy surface can develop a chop easily capable of capsizing the small fishing boats that traveled the lake in Jesus' day. Just such a storm arrives into our story, almost on cue.

The language that both Mark and Jesus use to talk about this storm is not just meteorological. It's a "monster" storm repleat with teeth and claws.

As we sailed this lake together, our devotional speaker reminded us that when life's storms hit, Jesus is in the boat with us. The author of Hebrews reminds us that Jesus, our High Priest, has suffered all of the indignities of being human, knows and understands what we are going through. We are never alone.

The story also reminds us that Jesus is sovereign over the storms in our life. One of the mysteries in the story revolves around why it took the disciples so long to call upon Jesus for help. We watch as they strain at the oars under their own power until they finally cry out in what seems like anger. "Don't you care that we're drowinging, here?"

All along, they are aware that Jesus is with them. They've even awarded him a place of honor in their lives. Consider this: who sits in the stern of a boat? If there had been a bumperstcker on this boat, it wouldn't have said "Jesus Is My Copilot." It would have said "Jesus Is the Pilot of This Craft."

In spite of this, though, they refrain from calling out until it is almost too late.

How often do we fail to call on God at the beginning, middle, and end of life's undertakings? We fail to call on him for help, then we have the audacity to be angry, even cast blame on him when the waves threaten to overwhelm us.

I am most puzzled, though, by Jesus' response. He calms the sea, of course. That's the famous part of the story. But then he rebukes them as being of little faith. Why?

Put it another way: What would have been Jesus' "preferred outcome" in this story? Would he have wished the storm never came? Would he have wished his disciples had awakened him sooner, so that they had never been in danger?

Last Summer, my family visited an amusement park in the Smokies called Dollywood. Dollywood has this new roller coaster called the Mystery Mine that they advertise on all their posters. I was in the park near the entrance to the Mystery Mine when I heard this converstaion between two teenagers:

"I can't believe we waited two hours to ride that thing."

"Yeah. Especially in this heat."

"When it turned up on its side I almost wet my britches."

"When it went straight down through the flames I almost threw up."

"I thought I was going to die."

"Me too."

"Wanna go again?"

"I'll race you!"

And I followed them.

These kids had a faith in the Dollywood ride designers that the disciples could not find that night in the boat with Jesus. These kids probably didn't write a letter to Dollywood complaining that the ride was too scary and demanding that the roller coaster be closed down, or even toned down. despite the lurches in their stomachs and the screams, they had an undergirding faith that the car was still on the tracks, that the designer knew what he was doing and had done it all with them in mind.

I wonder.

How would Jesus have felt if he had been awakend by a different cry? What if instead of "Don't you care if we drown?" he'd awakened to a different shout?

"Master! Wake up and grab an oar!"

His eyes open, and Jesus sees twelve rain-drenched, wind-whipped disciples grinning to beat the band.

"You're missing the ride!" they shout.

And with a whoop, they bend their backs again to the oars


.

To Pray or Not to Pray

Near the base of the Mount of Olives stands the Church of the Nations. This church embraces a stand of olive trees which almost certainly date back to the time of Jesus, and beneath the altar of the church lies a rock claiming to be the place where Jesus fell to his face and called out to God in anguish to "let this cup pass from me."

The Garden of Gethsemane plays a crucial role in the unfolding of the gospel of Jesus. His public ministry is at its end. Friends have conspired to betray him. Even as the story opens, a crowd including a few members of the Temple Guard is on its way to arrest Jesus and initiate that grueling last day of his life that we have come to call the Passion.

Visitors to the garden today find a carefully manicured landscape and a starkly beautiful chapel commemorating the events of this place. Central to the memory, of course, are the olive trees.

Olive trees, properly cared for can live virtually forever. As I toured the gift shops of the Holy Land, I came to wonder how there could be any olive trees left. Olive wood is sold as a souvenier of the place in every shop, restaurant, hotel lobby and (often) out of the trunks of cars along the side of the road. What I learned is that trees are not felled to harvest the lumber. Instead, the carvings are produced from branches that have been pruned away to foster newer, more vital growth. The dozen or so trees in the garden seem to absorbed the spirit of the place. Their trunks are twisted and gnarled, as if they, too, kneel in anguish.

This anguish is recalled by the architecture, as well. And by the art. A stone carving tucked inauspiciously in one corner of the garden shows Jesus draped across a stone, praying.

The central mosaic over the altar in the nave shows us a similar scene, this time with angels in attendance (as suggested by the gospel of Luke. To the right of the altar, another mosaic shows the ill-fated kiss of betrayal (as suggested by Matthew and Mark.)

To the left of the altar, though, we find a different scene taken from the gospel of John. In this scene, the arresting officers have arrived, and Jesus has offered himself for arrest. The artist has given Jesus a transcendent glow in this panel, and the soldiers are shown stricken with awe, driven to their knees.

In fact, the four gospel writers each present their own particular version of what happened in Gethsemane that night. Luke's version is perhaps the most familiar and most detailed:

^22:39Jesus went out as usual to the Mount of Olives, and his disciples followed him. ⁴⁰On reaching the place, he said to them, "Pray that you will not fall into temptation." ⁴¹He withdrew about a stone's throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, ⁴²"Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." ⁴³An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. ⁴⁴And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.^c]">[c]

⁴⁵When he rose from prayer and went back to the disciples, he found them asleep, exhausted from sorrow. ⁴⁶"Why are you sleeping?" he asked them. "Get up and pray so that you will not fall into temptation."

⁴⁷While he was still speaking a crowd came up, and the man who was called Judas, one of the Twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him, ⁴⁸but Jesus asked him, "Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?"

⁴⁹When Jesus' followers saw what was going to happen, they said, "Lord, should we strike with our swords?" ⁵⁰And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear.

⁵¹But Jesus answered, "No more of this!" And he touched the man's ear and healed him.

⁵²Then Jesus said to the chief priests, the officers of the temple guard, and the elders, who had come for him, "Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come with swords and clubs? ⁵³Every day I was with you in the temple courts, and you did not lay a hand on me. But this is your hour—when darkness reigns."

Here we have the anguished prayer of surrender. Jesus lays aside his own will in order to accept the will of the Father. He arises from this prayer empowered to "resist temptation," just as he has advised his disciples to do the same.

Luke's telling of the story is a little more compassionate towards the disciples than Matthew or Mark. Luke suggests that their sleepiness is born of grief, rather than the complete cluelessness that seems to be implied in Matthew and Mark. Luke alone reports that Jesus heals the ear lopped off in the ensuing fray. No harm, no foul. He even goes so far as to suggest that Jesus stops Judas shy of the diabolical kiss.

A careful comparison of the words prayed by Jesus in each of these three gospels shows some subtle differences. This is to expected of course. The disciples were left behind at some distance and were not at their sharpest. It's absolutely normal that they would remember the event with some confusion.

Matthew remembers Jesus saying "If it is possible... let this cup pass from me." It is a call of anguish which nevertheless recognizes that for God's plan to unfold, what comes next may be utterly unavaoidable. Luke doesn't speak of what's possible, but of what's desirable. In his mind, this story is all about seeking God's will at any cost.

Mark's version of the prayer is the most heart-wrenching. He begins by noting "All things are possible for you..." In other words, "I know you could find another way. Leave me out of this!"

What each holds in common, of course, is a very human Jesus wishing there were another way, but ultimately yielding to the greater purposes of God.

When we turn to John's account (John 18:1-11), though, we find a surprise. John reports no prayer whatsoever. Completely missing are the agonized moments of struggle with his conscience and his humanness. The closest thing John gives us is actually back in chapter 12:23-33, while Jesus and the disciples are still in the upper room. There, he confesses to his disciples that he is deeply troubled by what is coming next. Even her, though, Jesus pointedly refuses to pray for God to spare him the coming hour. John's Jesus marches to Gethsemane not to wrestle with his personal demons, but to confront his destiny head on.

Both pictures are preserved at the Church of Nations, just as both are preserved in our own holy scriptures. We have the human Jesus, emotionally spent, sweating drops of blood, crushed under the weight of the demands placed on him by our salvation. And we have the divine, glow-in-the-dark Jesus who never for a moment contemplates the possibility of turning aside from the cross. Which is it?

Will the real Jesus of Nazareth please stand up?

Like the Mosaics and our fourfold gospels, orthodox Christianity has consistently told us that we need both pictures. We proclaim Jesus both fully human and fully divine. Good theology leaves us somewhere in the mystery between, grasping one Jesus with each hand. Our human mind seems incapable of holding the two pictures together, but the gospel writers insist we cannot have one without the other.

The Way of the Cross

Perhaps the most anticipated moment in our recent trip to the Holy Land was our trek down the Via Dolorosa, the "Way of Sorrow." This well established route through Jerusalem seeks to retrace the footsteps of Jesus as he carried his cross from the trial before Pilate to the place of his crucifixion, burial, and resurrection.

Our journey began at one of the gates into the Old City. This gate is called St. Stephen's gate, being the traditional site of the stoning of the first Christin martyr. Of course whatever gate may have existed at the time of Stephen is now well below ground, perhaps awaiting future excavation. The gate we now pass through is "new," dating to the 1400's.

Just about a block inside the gate is St Anne's church. Anne is the name traditionally given to the mother of Mary, mother of Jesus. The same tradition holds that Mary was born on the site of this church. Like many other Holy Land traditions, this one is strictly extra-Biblical. The present site was not identified in any particular way until the time of the Crusaders, who were known to warp geography a bit to place extra bits of holy history within the walls of Jerusalem.

Still, Mary had to born somewhere, and this spot probably serves as well as any to celebrate the human lineage of Jesus. On a more authentic note, St. Anne's is also the custodian of an ancient archeological site believed to be the Pool of Bethesda.

This site exemplifies what greets the modern visitor to the Holy Land in general, and especially within the walls of Jerusalem. One is confronted constantly with a half-dozen, intertwined layers of history presented in a single site.

The area on which the pool was built had been recognized as a place of healing for generations before Jesus. The Greeks erected a shrine to Aesculapius here, perhaps because of a natural mineral spring. Later, the Pool occupied this site near the "Sheep Gate." Sheep were brought to the pool for bathing before they were used in the sacrifices at the Temple. This ancient reputation as a place for healing and its new association with the Holy Temple made the Pool an ideal location for local superstitions to crop up. In John's golspel, we read of a beggar who, lame from birth, awaited the "stirring of the waters" in hopes of being healed. Somewhere along the edge of this pool, he received his healing at the hands of Jesus.

Conseqequently, later genrations built churches over the spot. As one looks over the site today, it is almost impossible to divine where the ancient Greek gives way to the first century Roman. The pool from the time of Jesus is difficult to discern from the foundations of the later Byzantine era and early Crusader churches. One is alwys straining to find remnants of Jesus' passing beneath and between the layers.

Another example stands a few yards away. Roman ruins mark a spot that Crusaders assumed must have been the palace of Pilate, and thus the "pavement" on which Christ was tried by Pilate and presented to the crowds(See the photo of the "Ecco Homo" arch.) We now know that the Roman remains date to the time of Hadrian, well after the time of Jesus, even though many of the stones used in constructing his edifice may have been part of the original Antonia Fortress.

Nor are these "layers" limited to the archeology. The Via Dolorosa itself takes a course through the city on streets that, at the time of Jesus, probably didn't even exist yet. It stops at stations that celebrate events found nowhere in the Biblical narratives. The very idea of walking the Via Dolorosa is relatively new, dating only to about five hundred years ago.

But people do walk it. By the hundreds. It is one of the most travelled of walking routes in the world. As such, it has also become a great commercial location. Merchants along the Via Dolorosa inhabit prime real estate and compete heavily for the dollars in the pockets of visiting pilgrims. The closer one draws to the traditional site of Golgotha, the more intense the commercialism becomes. It actually becomes difficult to thread one's way between the clamoring merchants which line the narrow streets.

Finally, the Via Dolorosa empyes into the courtyrd of the church of the Holy Sepulchre, for many Christians, the holiest site on the face of the Earth.


The current church embraces both the traditional site of the crucifixion and the traditional site of the burial and resurrection of Jesus. Pilgrims stand in line to bow at the altars placed over these sacred spots, to reach through small gilded openings in the floor and actually touch Calvary or the temporary resting place of Jesus' body.

Most scholars believe the site is authentic. Christian worship on these sites dates back to eras in which Christianity was illegal, and to gather on these spots was life-threatening. Both the weight of tradition and the archeology of the place support its high claims.

For this reason, the church has become something of a battle ground. Six different ancient denominations have some claim over the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and they coexist within the builing so uneasily that government authorities were forced to intervene in the 1800's and declare an edict of "Status Quo," making it illegal to make any further changes within the church and basicly "freezing" the borders within the building. Different denominations now control different chapels within the building and guard their turf jealously. A ladder stands in the entry to the church which was in place at the time of the edict and has not moved since.

The line which leads toward the Golgotha altar winds past chapels of breathtaking beauty. At last, the pilgrim reaches a marble altar over the spot where tradition holds that the cross was lowered into an indentation in the rock. The chapel is gilded with gold leaf, the altar area adorned with life sized paintings of Jesus, Mary and Mary, decked out in three dimensional siver garb. The ceiling supports enough oil lamps (though on this day they are unlit) to illuminate Wrigley Field.

To approach the spot of the crucifixion, one is forced by the architecture to kneel. There, beneath the altar, a circular opening encased in precious metals affords just enough space for the pilgrim to insert an hand and touch the stone.

The decorum of the altar is guarded by a priest, who also encourages pilgrims to move along if he feels they have lingered for more than their alotted time. Behind cordons, those who have already knelt pause for a moment longer, many praying, a few weeping, but most quite honestly gawking and snapping photos.

Somewhere beneath all of this pious decor is a spot which was touched in a way that changed the history of the world. For some, perhaps, the architecture heightens the sense of holiness. For many, though, it becomes another layer, another obstacle between present day life and somehow enaging the world in which Jesus walked. The challenge of praying in this spot is to strip away the layers until only Golgotha remains beneath the outstretched fingers of faith.

As I passed from the church into the brutal heat of the Palestine sun, I reflected on these layers. I wonder how may layers our own churches place between genuine seekers of truth and a potent, life-changing encounter with Jesus of Nazareth. How much of what we do makes Jesus more real to the world around us, and how much of what we do obfuscates and blurs his countenance? How can we be sure that those who enter our doors touch... and are touched by... Calvary.

And when I squint back through the doorway of the church and see the 150 year old ladder, I can't decide whether to laugh or cry.

The Holy City

Recently, several of us returned from a trip to the holy land. The picture to the left was taken from the Mount of Olives, near a church commemorating the tears of Jesus over Jerusalem.

In Jesus' time, the Mount of Olives was covered with... well... olives. After the fall of Jerusalem in 70 CE, the Romans ordered the olive trees chopped down on the mountainside, as they felt the olive groves provided too much cover for the possible approach of rebel forces. Only a few olive trees remain, now, mostly on the traditional site of the garden of Gethsemane.

Between the mountain and the city lies the Kidron Valley. This valley has traditionally been a burial site for devout Jews. Even in the time of Jesus, the valley was cluttered with graves. This made travel by night through the area somewhat perilous for people unfamiliar with the lay of the land, since straying from the path might cause one to come in contact with a grave, and thus become unclean.

In short, the Mount of Olives made an ideal place for Jesus and his disciples to withdraw from the city and not be disturbed by casual wanderers. We read that Jesus did exactly this on the night of his betrayal, but the gospel writers also tell us that this was a habit Jesus practiced often (SEE Luke 22:39 and John 18:2). Is it possible that Jesus stood on the Mount of Olives for his famous "Night Discourse" with Nicodemus recorded in John chapter 3? If so, the picture above becomes both literally and figuratively a backdrop for that story.

Imagine for a moment that Jesus and Nicodemus are looking out across this valley to the Temple Mount as they speak. It's night, of course, but the city is illuminated by oil lamps and torches as the thousands of visitors that have arrived for Passover move about through the streets. The Temple itself is illuminated by the fire of the altar. It's quite a sight.

This is the same Temple that Jesus has just condemned by driving the animals out of the court. The local authorities have demanded a sign from jesus. They want to know by what authority he has prophesied against the Temple. The only sign he offers on the spot, they misconstrue and reject.

Maybe Nicodemus was there when this conversation took place. He is identified as a mover and shaker in Jerusalem, after all. Maybe he only heard about it, but he is clearly aware. He has threaded his way through the Kidron burial ground to present himself to Jesus. Perhaps he is alone, but he speaks on behalf of others, using the word "we."

"Rabbi, we know you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the miraculous signs you are doing if God were not with him."

This amounts to a confession of sorts. Nicodemus and a few others have seen enough to know that what Jesus has said and implied about the Temple must be true. He wants to hear what Jesus has to say. Together, Jesus and Nicodemus look out at the awesome spectacle of the Temple of Yaweh, the thousands who have gathered there to worship, the burning flames upon the altar.

"I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again."

For many modern Christians, the idea of God's kingdom is a metaphysical thing, usually consigned to some era after the physical world has ceased to exist. This picture wouldn't have anything to do with what Nicodemus believed about the Kingdom. Nicodemus will have expected that the Kingdom would have something to do with what was going on in Jerusalem... who sat on the throne, who presided as priest, how the people of God presented themselves to the world. In some way, as he gazes across the Kidron Valley, Nicodemus believes he is looking at the Kingdom of God, or at the very least, he is looking at where the Kingdom of God ought to be happening. Jesus tells him that he cannot see the Kingdom of God from where he is standing beacause somebody (or something.. the greek here is ambigous) needs to be "...born again..." The language Jesus uses to describe this "born again" experience will be familiar to Nicodemus, as it is borrowed directly from the Hebrew Scriptures. Specifically, Jesus is evoking imagery from Ezekiel 36 and 37.

In so doing, Jesus is displaying a fairly high regard for Nicodemus. Ezekiel was considered by the ancient rabbis to be among the most difficult of scriptures to read and understand. In some traditions, students were not permitted to read Ezekiel untli they had reached the age of 30 years, the age at which one became eligible to interpret scriptures for others. Jesus not only assumes that Nicodemus has read this book, but that he is familiar enough with it to recognize its themes and images without citation.

Ezkiel 36 speaks of the rebirth of israel. She will be delivered from her enemies and reestablished as a kingdom by an act of God's sovereign grace. She is unworthy of such an honor, because she has made herself unclean, like a woman during her menstrual cycle. In other words, she has failed to bring forth life. What God intended her to bear has been stillborn. God promises, though, to cleanse her by the sprinkling of water, to take away her heart of stone and to give her a heart of flesh. All of this, God does by the power of the Spirit.

Likewise, Jesus says that the Kingdom of God must be born from above, by water and spirit, by spirit and flesh. Naturally, Nicodemus wants to know how we can make such a thing happen. The form of his question is silly, of course, to our ears. He is, however, following the classroom protocol of the day. He uses a "Socratic question" to invite Jesus to tell him more.

They gaze again across the Kidron Valley, a valley filled with graves.

Jewish burial customs in Jesus day are foreign to us today. Especially in and around Jerusalem, Jews practiced what we call "secondary burial." The body was not embalmed, but laid in a cool, dry place for a period of time to decompose. After perhaps as much as a year, when the flesh had all deteriorated, the bones of the deceased were collected and buried in a very small stone coffin called an "ossuary." As Jesus and Nicodemus looked across the Kidron Valley, then, they gazed across a valley of "dry bones."

How does this new birth from above happen?

"You should not be surprised at my saying, 'You must be born again.' The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."

It's totally appropriate that Jesus uses language of the Spirit, of course. But once again, it is language he has borrowed. Ezekiel 37 tells of Ezekiel's vision of the valley of dry bones and the great wind that reanimated them, the very breath of God. This vision is explained to Ezekiel as a sign that God will revive Israel as if from the dead. Jesus tells Nicodemus that the rebirth of Israel will happen as all life happens... when God's spirit moves.

Is there a barb in this observation? Does Jesus invite Nicodemus to ask himself where the spirit of God may be moving as they speak? Does he ask Nicodemus to put two and two together... the miraculous signs and prophetic ministry of Jesus and Israel's need for a new movement of God's spirit?

I believe in personal salvation and rebirth. I've experienced it myself, and I have celebrated again and again in the lives of others. But I'm not really sure that's the conversation Jesus and Nicodemus were having. I think Jesus and nicodemus have in sight a much larger idea... not the rebirth if an individual, but the rebirth of an entire people, a people intended to transform the world that God "so loved," but a people that has fallen radically short and become something else.

I think Nicodemus came to Jesus because he recognized the truth of what Jesus was saying about the Temple. Somehow, all of this has failed to be what God intended. It needs to be made over again. It needs to be "made clean." It needs to surrender its heart of stone and rediscover its heart of flesh. God's people need a resurrection. Their bone have become dry and brittle. They have become something which is a hideous caricature of holiness, and they need to become once again fully His. This can only happen by the life-giving spirit of God.

And that Spirit is moving and acting in the person of Jesus of Nazareth and those who follow him.