If you are inclined, as am I, to seek spiritual guidance from American Idol winners, then Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus Take the Wheel” might be the perfect anthem for travelling through Galilee. I might suggest that Jesus retain Lisa as navigator since the roads have changed quite a bit in the last 2,000 years. As a general rule, having her by my side is an essential part of any journey, especially life’s!
The Holy Land is to my Christian self as Israel is to my American self. My Christian self being the more complicated. As an American, Israel is part of my consciousness. As a Christian the Holy Land is a part of my unconsciousness. Here resides the imagery, the symbolism, the stories and iconography that form an essential part of how I see the world and myself. To come to the Holy Land is to come face to face with that self. In that confrontation I do not seek validation but rather, understanding. I do not seek ecstatic/joyful affirmation of my religious heritage but seek opportunity to reflect on and revise. Other pilgrims here weep openly at locations that have intense meaning for them. Others chant in open prayer the words of their faith. I have great respect for those who experience their faith in this way. I am even somewhat envious; wishing that all this land has to offer could have the same meaning, carry the same intensity for me. Is it a violation of the tenth commandment to covet just a touch of their soaring religious ecstasy in the hope that it might reconnect me to the religious stirrings of my youth? The truth is, much like the bipolar, I do miss the spiritual highs however I am no longer willing to suffer the dreaded lows of shame, guilt and fear of eternal damnation. Eschewing those highs and lows I’ve managed to sublimate their intensity. Tortured martyrdom has been replaced by social service (it pays more/hurts less); promise of the hereafter replaced by a love-filled and healthy here-and-now (if lucky maybe even a large in-home movie theater).
It is from this spiritual middle ground that I walk this holy ground. I approach it wanting to understand how events in this place over 2,000 years ago come to have such an impact on my being. I want to understand how a charismatic preacher, in the course of his three-year ministry around and about the Sea of Galilee, became the instigation for a religious phenomenon that bears his name, if not always his teachings.
Driving to Nazareth I had no expectation that Jesus’ boyhood town would yield any real clue of his life there. It was as we approached the town that I realized how this would all play out. There before us were the hills that surrounded Nazareth. The very same that Jesus could see from his home, could climb up and get lost in. Some accounts have Jesus hanging out at the synagogue. I prefer to imagine him playing in these hills. Clearly my search for roots was not going to be a “walk-where-Jesus-walked” trip. This would be a see-what Jesus-saw, feel the breeze-Jesus-felt experience. I would be feeling the same warmth emanating from the land as he felt. It would not be the sacred images or churches but the environs that would memorialize his presence and that would connect me to my religious roots. As we explored the sites in Galilee I felt as if I could encounter a real man named Jesus as he travelled around the lake, stopping at towns along its shores; leading conversations with the locals; explaining how his interpretation of the scriptures offers promise and hope to a people whose lives have been overrun by the powerful; expanding on the scriptures call for charity toward each other and faith that God will reward the righteous. While at Capernaum, the home of Peter, I hear the same lapping of the waves along the shore as Jesus approaches Peter and his brothers preparing to set out for the day’s catch. The locals are intrigued, some amused, some bemused as he talks. Women bring him food and water, flirting as they do. He invites the locals to join him for a hike up the surrounding hills that overlook the lake. They rest under one of the few oak trees where he tells them that they, not their overlords, shall inherit the earth and that it is the peacemakers who are truly blessed.
At Yardenet I entered the River Jordan at the same site as Jesus when his cousin John baptized him. As I stood in the reality of this water, images of my youth were washed away. Jesus was no longer a glowing, blue-eyed anglicized icon. In its place was a sweat-drenched, olive-skinned, middle-eastern Jew seeking out his cousin who had been preaching a similar if not more observant interpretation of scripture. Recognizing that Jesus was clearly the more articulate and charismatic of the two, John uttered, anachronistically, “ Yo dude. You totally have it over me. Go for it!” There is no opening of the sky nor light beaming from on high, no hovering of the Holy Spirit; just two men, standing in a river, having a moment that would set into motion a world altering chain of events. Standing in this spot I don’t feel ecstasy. I feel a sober and satisfying connection to real people and real events.
Galilee in its present form, more than Jerusalem, is the closest you can get to understanding the life of Jesus. Events that led to the spread of Christianity are complex and beyond the simplicity of his life. These events probably play a larger role in my upbringing but none of that matters now. Having experienced the essence of my Christian heritage makes all that followed irrelevant.
No comments:
Post a Comment