The Holy and the Hokey

A World Communion Sunday sermon by Lanny Peters

Pastor, Oakhurst Baptist Church, Decatur, Georgia

October 2, 2005

The Via Delorosa in the old city of Jerusalem follows what is traditionally seen as the route of the last steps of Jesus Christ. On Good Friday each year, Christian pilgrims from all over the world gather to follow in the footsteps of Jesus on his last day on earth. All during the year, individuals and groups follow the route in a devotional manner or as a tourist, or some combination thereof. On August 23, I walked the Via Delorosa with an unusual group consisting of Christians, Muslims, and Jews from Atlanta on our second full day in Israel. It was fascinating for a number of reasons. As a pastor, I have read and re-read countless times the four gospel accounts of Jesus’ last day and preached on its importance many times. Here I was for the first time in my life actually in the places I had so often imagined and described. I felt a sense of awe as we set out.

As we entered the gate of the old city, we passed by soldiers who looked much younger than my twenty-year-old son eyeing us carefully with machine guns slung across their sides. Following our Jewish tour guide, we were met first by young Muslim boys wanting to sell us maps and brochures. They exclaimed, “Here, you will need these to follow the way of the cross. Very good price.” One of them blocked my way and began explaining how there were 14 stations and his guidebook had a photo of each one. Commerce usually crosses interfaith lines.

We actually began with station number two. That’s because station number one, the traditional site of the Roman fortress where Jesus was condemned to death, now lies inside a Muslim college. It’s open to the public on special occasions. A group of Franciscan friars begin a walk here each Friday while the students are praying at the mosque. The second station is the traditional site where Jesus was flogged and crowned with thorns. We sat in a Franciscan monastery in the Chapel of the Flaggellation. Our Jewish tour guide did a good job of introducing the route we were about to take. As we walked down the narrow street, in pairs and small groups, the Jews and Muslims began asking the Christians questions about all this. As we crossed under an arch that is said to be the place where Pilate stood and said, “Behold the man,” I was explaining my understanding of why Jesus was arrested to a Muslim woman and a Jewish man.

The third station is at a turn in the street where a market area begins. Our guide pointed out a marble relief above a small chapel depicting the place where Jesus first fell beneath the weight of the cross. We do not go in this chapel but a Muslim merchant patiently waited until our guide was through, and then encouraged us to come into his store where we could buy a replica of the marble relief of Jesus stumbling with the cross. “Any size. All at a good price.”

The fourth station is in front of another Armenian church with a sculpture over the door depicting when Jesus met his mother on the way. This has always been a touching story for me, and even in the midst of the busyness of the street, I imagined Mary’s pain at seeing her son on his way to his death. The nearby fifth station is the site where Roman soldiers ordered Simon of Cyrene to help carry Jesus’ cross. I was glad to have a few moments off the busy street in a quiet Franciscan chapel to contemplate what I was experiencing.

From this point, the route goes up some narrow, steep steps crowded by shops on either side. My favorite was the Holy Rock Café. Merchants, open to interfaith money, offered us items geared toward the Christians but as soon as they saw we also had Jews and Muslims, quickly pointed to items just for them. “Just take a look. Everything cheap.” This steep hill marks the ascent of Jesus to Golgotha along which we passed station six where, according to tradition, is the place where Jesus was helped by Veronica when she wiped the dirt from his face. The imprint of his face was left on the cloth he used and is preserved today at St. Peter’s church in Rome. Like a good Baptist, I explained to my questioning Muslim and Christian colleagues how that scene is not in the Bible. I told them they should check with the Catholics in the group instead of this skeptic for more about Veronica.

We passed the seventh station denoting where Jesus fell for the second time and the eighth station where Jesus consoled the daughters of Jerusalem. The ninth station, where Jesus fell for the third time, led to a roof of a church where there was an Ethiopian monastery. Here we paused for a devotional. Throughout the ten days we traveled, there were special sites for Christians, Jews, and Muslims where a member of that faith group was asked to share their understanding of the significance of that site. Wouldn’t you know it! I had been asked to say something about the significance of the last station, the traditional site of the empty tomb. Because the church where we would go next was usually crowded, I was asked to share before we went in.

I found it to be quite a challenge to share in the ten or so minutes allotted while folks were standing in the hot sun on a roof what was most important to me about the resurrection of Jesus. I briefly touched on the fact that there are differing accounts of the resurrection in the four gospels, each offering a different perspective on exactly what happened.  I have always liked that. It’s as if none of us alone can totally explain its significance. Every year when I preach on Easter and at other times about the resurrection, I can only touch on one aspect of this multi faceted mystery.

I told them that the one I wanted to mention that day in that context is how the risen Christ appeared to his disciples alive incognito to the disciples. I told the story of how Mary mistook him for a gardener, perhaps as he leaned on a rake with a floppy straw hat. The disciples traveling to Emmaus did not recognize Jesus until they invited who they thought was a stranger in to dinner. I told them how Jesus had once said that the way we treated someone who was sick, hungry, or in jail was in essence how we treat him. So for me one aspect of the resurrection is that it challenges us to look at every human being as if they might well be Christ. If we do so, we treat everyone with the utmost respect and even reverence. Even, and maybe especially, those of other faiths.

And then we went into the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where the tenth to the fourteenth stations are. For me, this part felt more touristy than devotional. A small chapel marked the spot where Jesus was stripped of his garments. Another chapel with beautiful mosaics decorates the spot where Jesus was crucified and died. There is a hole in the foundation rock upon which the church stands said to be the exact spot of the foot of the cross. It is traditional for Christians to kneel down and then reach into a hole to touch the spot. Along with all of the Christians while the Jews and Muslims watched, I did this. But instead of feeling holy, I began to feel more skeptical.

A few steps away was an alter where Jesus’ body was said to be anointed by Mary after he was taken down from the cross. A nice stone there felt a little too tidy and convenient given my own imagining of the chaos around Jesus’ death. Then just a few more steps away is perhaps the holiest spot for Christians, the empty tomb. It began to feel contrived. First of all, I could not imagine that the borrowed tomb that was hurriedly found for Jesus was conveniently located some twenty feet from the cross on which he died. It did not help that the tomb was guarded by an Orthodox priest who was a combination bouncer and theme park character who one moment was yelling at people who did not queue up correctly and the next minute smiling while people stood beside him to get their picture made with him.

When my time came, I went inside the small tomb and tried to refocus on the sacredness of this place. But apparently I lingered too long because the Orthodox priest stuck his head in, grumbled some words I could not comprehend and grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me out. Snatched out of the tomb of Jesus, it was empty for the next hurried pilgrim.

Amused by being bounced out of the tomb of Jesus, I watched this scene for a while. At one point, he hustled over and quickly went down a row of women sitting on a bench and he uncrossed each of their legs. Our guide explained that crossing your leg was deemed disrespectful because it looked like the sign of the cross. I forgot and later had mine uncrossed by an annoyed priest in Bethlehem. Our guide also told us that the various church groups had fought over the years about who would control which sites in the church and that the trust between them was so low that to this day a Muslim is entrusted with the keys to the church. Evangelical Protestants flock to a whole different site outside the Damascus gate, a real garden with a tomb. Though it perhaps fits the imagination better, archaeologists have concluded they this tomb is from somewhere between the 9^th to 7^th Century B.C. and of a different style than tombs in Christ’s time.            But even the site of the Holy Sepulcher has an ambivalent history. The empty tomb of Jesus was (quote) “discovered” first by the Empress Helena, the mother of Emperor Constantine, revealed to her in a dream while she was on a visit to Jerusalem around 325 A.D. Constantine first ordered churches built on these sites which were later destroyed by the Persians in 614 A.D. They were rebuilt and destroyed again in 1009. None other than the Crusaders built the present church soon after they massacred most of the Muslim and Jewish residents of Jerusalem. Herman Melville, author of Moby Dick, visited this church in the mid-nineteenth century and called it “ a sickening cheat.”

After his visit in the 1930's, George Bernard Shaw suggested that signs be erected along the Via Delorosa saying, “Do not bother stopping here, it isn’t genuine.” I felt some of this and yet, I also felt the special ness of the place. Whether these are the exact historical spots, it is true that the events depicted in the gospels at least happened in the vicinity. And for that reason people have been coming here for at least 1700 years. Given the church’s history of both following and betraying the vision of Jesus Christ, the combination of holy and hokey profound and profane may be fitting.

As I reflected on all this, I remembered with relief the angel’s words, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised. He is not here.” (Mark 16:5) That’s the truth, I thought. He is not here. And I went outside. There, a number of folks began to talk to me about my meditation. It had struck a chord among the Christians. Several of the Jews and Muslims joined our conversation. They talked about parallels in their traditions of being told to look for signs of God in other human beings. I wondered, “What does it mean to find Christ in Jews and Muslims?”

On this day, we celebrate World Communion Sunday. It began with the Presbyterians in 1936 and soon spread to other mainline denominations. The idea was to have one Sunday a year where Christians around the globe could all have communion on the same day and pray with and for each other. Of course, many churches do not participate, particularly those that are suspicious of any ecumenical undertakings. Which brings me to the spirited discussion on the Oakhurst list serve following last Sunday’s interfaith service. Among the many thoughtful responses were two brief comments that followed a longer response from David Rensberger that connected with my recent experiences. Leon Clymore said, “Interfaith dialogue is difficult just because we have to both hold to our faith and listen and learn from others at the same time. How exciting this is going to be!” Bill Woolf replied, “I agree completely, Leon. Thanks, again, David, for your thoughtful consideration of an important issue. And I would add: I wonder how far away we are from tackling the toughest of all interfaith encounters, that is--having a dialogue with fundamentalist Christians. Since I am aware that dialogue requires two sides that are willing to engage each other, I doubt that I will live long enough to see that one take place.”

I know what Bill means. I usually find it much easier and more rewarding to have meaningful dialogue with my interfaith community than with other conservative and fundamentalist Christians. It is not as if I have not tried. In fact, I spent a good part of my first four decades trying to do that and have only let go of it in the last decade. This church has also expended considerable energy in this direction. The last attempt was in 1990 in Macon at the Georgia Baptist Convention. I was never prouder to be part of this congregation than when I presented an amendment from our church offering to enter into a year of dialogue based on Jesus’ model of reconciliation. Since the Convention and our congregation was deeply divided over how gay Christians should be treated by the church. So Oakhurst members, both gay and straight, offered to go to any church in Georgia for dialogue. Our offer was rejected by around 90 % of our fellow Baptists and then by a similar vote, we were dismissed from fellowship. We did not end that dialogue, but as Bill said, dialogue requires that two sides engage each other.

It is ironic that I have found Muslims and Jews more willing to engage in dialogue about tough and divisive issues. I have found that many progressive Jews and Muslims struggle with communicating with conservative and fundamentalist elements in their traditions as well. I am finding that it does not begin with dialogue, but with relationships. What I have experienced that is most important is interfaith relationships, friendships, and community. What I have experienced is an alternative to religious fundamentalism in all its forms.

I want to end with two stories from my Israel pilgrimage that illustrate this. After we finished our walk on the Via Delorosa, we had some free time to go back to the hotel and rest or walk around the old city. I ended up with a group of the latter, walking around in the Muslim sector. As it got late in the afternoon, the Muslims were getting ready to go to the Dome of the Rock for private prayer and then to the El-Aqsa mosque for the evening prayers. At one point, three women, one Jewish, one African American protestant and one a white Catholic, mentioned that they wished they could go with them. Our entire group had been up on the Temple Mount where these are located the day before. The Dome of the Rock is located on the traditional site of Solomon’s temple and the second temple that stood in Jesus’ time. It was begun in AD 691 and is the third most important Islamic religious sanctuary.  It has been closed to non- Muslims since the second intifada began. The El-Aqsa mosque across the way is the main place of Islamic worship in Jerusalem.

The two Muslim women responded by saying that they would just dress them up like Muslim women so they could go in with them. Suddenly, they were in a scarf shop while the three Muslim men and I looked on in amusement. I bought a scarf for my wife and then asked one of the Muslim men if he thought this would work and he was doubtful. I had already decided to walk back to the hotel so I bid them farewell. The two Christian women and the Jewish woman looked great in their scarves tied in a traditional Muslim fashion as they all headed for the Dome of the Rock. They decided to let an imam from our group lead the way along with a young man who had studied in Syria for four years who would do most of the talking. He speaks beautiful fluent Arabic. At the checkpoint going in, the Israeli soldiers were not at all convinced. In fact, they outright said that this group was not all Muslims. They attempted to get the women to show their passports and then told them to recite the first verse of the Koran. Each time, the young man and the imam engaged them in conversation. Exasperated, the Israeli soldiers called in the Muslim guards at the next checkpoint. Finally, the imam told them that the group of five women was all his wives. Either because of their persistence, or because they found this funny, or maybe because the Israeli guards did not want them in, the Muslim guards let them pass. Simone, who is Catholic, shared this story with the larger group the next day.

She told us that she was deeply touched by these Muslim friends who she had just met that week who dressed her up like them and spent some forty minutes convincing soldiers with big guns to let them through. Janet, one of the Muslim women, helped her prepare to pray in the Dome of the Rock and in the mosque. Simone said that these places were beautiful and holy but what touched her the most were these new relationships. And then she prayed in a line with her two Muslim women friends, her Jewish friend, and her other Christian friend, and many other Muslim women from Jerusalem and who knows where else. She could follow the motions though she did not understand the words. As she did, Simone said she could feel the Holy Spirit saying one word over and over to her: “Unity. Unity. Unity.”

The second story I want to tell today (I have many more you will hear in the coming weeks) also involves Simone and Mansoor. Let me preface it by saying that among my many conversations, one of the most memorable was a long talk I had with Mansoor and several others after dinner one night. It was about our different faiths and particularly about whom Jesus was for each of us. It was a great example of holding to our faith and listening to each other. I found it exhilarating and I came away with a deeper appreciation for Islam and a deeper understanding of my own faith. And I felt closer to Mansoor. As I said, relationships enable dialogue 

Now the last story. We were in the church of St. Anne venerated as the birthplace of Jesus’ mother Mary. It has incredible acoustics and Tiffany, the young African-American woman who also went to the Dome of the Rock, sang a beautiful solo. Some Italian tourists came in and heard it and began talking with our group. One of the women was talking to Simone who was telling her about the nature of our group. The woman listened and then said, “There are not Muslims in this church, are there?” As Simone thought about a response, from behind her came the voice of Mansoor. He said. “Here I am.” And as the woman stood there in surprise, he added, “I have found that when I am grounded in God, I can worship anywhere.”

This is when the day when the church of Jesus Christ celebrates with other Christians around the world our connection with one another. It is a day when we must also confess our broken-ness and divisiveness as well. We have taken what Christ gave us and made it holy and hokey, profound and profane.

Yet the Holy Spirit comes to us saying, Unity. Unity. Unity. Unity with one another here in this place. Unity with Christians throughout the world, including fundamentalists and bouncers at the tomb.  And unity with all God’s people. If we are grounded in God, we can worship anywhere. Amen.