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.