City Life Starter

Written by Scott Fiddler

The Word

38 After these things Joseph of Arimathea, being a disciple of Jesus, but a secret one for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus; and Pilate granted permission. So he came and took away His body.

 39 Nicodemus, who had first come to Him by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pounds weight.

 40 So they took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen wrappings with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews.

 41 Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid.

 42 Therefore because of the Jewish day of preparation, since the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

Exegesis

I know this is supposed to be a devotional, and I am supposed to write about things that will draw you closer to God, but as I read through this passage of scripture and the phrase “and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid,” I kept thinking about my visit with Ji, Cindy, and Ann Munson to the Church of Holy Sepulchre, in Jerusalem. This is the church built over the supposed tomb of Jesus. Arie Bar David was kind enough to let us go but careful not to endorse the trip with his presence. To his credit, Ji warned us we would be disappointed but was willing to act as our guide.

So, we get to the Church of Holy Sepulchre, and as we entered we noticed a slab of rock that people were kneeling around and kissing. I asked Ji what all the commotion was about. He said this was supposed to be the slab they laid Jesus’ body on when they took it off the cross. That still didn’t explain all the rock kissing.  I know in Ireland tourists kiss the Blarney Stone, which supposedly gives the smoocher the gift of gab, but here there were no such promises, just a bunch of blabbering and crying over a stone of dubious origin. We moved on.

As I recall, we walked down stairs or a ramp into the bowels of the church where I saw a dense crowd of individuals 4-5 people wide wrapped around a little stone hut shaped like a church. Although, I am not fond of crowds—I practiced social distancing before it became so popular—my curiosity overcame my disfavor of this collection of ZIPfiled humanity, and Cindy and I went to the back of the line. Ann stayed with Ji.

It was not long before there was a lady behind me. To say she didn’t respect my personal space is like saying Vladimir Putin doesn’t respect his political rivals. She was pushing with both her forearms into my back as if that could miraculously propel me through the multitude of flesh in front of me. I tried the half-look over my shoulder to no avail. She obviously couldn’t take a hint. I then started actively leaning and pushing back against her. About this time, from the midst of this pilgrimage turned cattle-call, I caught Ji’s eye across the way as he watched us. The look on his face was somewhere between a smirk and an I-told-you-so.

Somehow, after what seemed like the half-life for Uranium, we found ourselves at the entrance to the tomb. At the entrance stood a priest, not the Catholic type but an Orthodox one. He was barking at people to hurry up and come back out of the tomb, while at the same time swinging a thurible back and forth spewing incense everywhere. The woman in front of me wasn’t heeding his commands—maybe she wasn’t Orthodox—but she was still inside genuflecting over the stone bed in the tomb. I had not seen so much excitement over rock since the Flintstones. Finally she started coming out backwards on her knees with her head bowed, the priest all the time barking at her to hurry up.

Then we were in and all alone staring at the slab of stone on which some believe Jesus’ body had laid before He was resurrected. I looked at the slab and wondered if it was the slab. If it was the tomb. At this point, though, I was so fed up with all the stone kissing, bowing, and rock worship, all I felt like doing was yelling in the direction of the opening to the tomb, “He’s not here!!”  

On the way out of the church, I happened upon an open door to a room. Although, I’m not one to wander into private rooms uninvited, something compelled me. As Cindy, Ann, and I entered I looked up to my right and on the wall, encased in glass was a sword, not just any sword, but the sword of Godfrey de Bouillon! 

Godfrey de Bouillon is a personal hero of mine. I had even named my cat after him; may he (my cat) rest in peace. There was no incense, no barking priests, and no genuflecting, just an historical artifact that reminded us of a brave and noble man who, when his army wanted to make him King of Jerusalem refused, stating, “I will not wear a crown of gold when my Savior wore a crown of thorns.” Instead, he took the title, “Defender of the Holy Sepulchre.” 

I’m not sure what I had expected going into the Church of Holy Sepulchre, but we had found a sword, and to quote Jesus discussing swords with His disciples, “It is enough.” (Luke 22:38).

Application

Don’t worship, kiss, or genuflect over stones. Worship Jesus.

Trust Ji.