A Road Skirts the Garden

A Road Skirts the Garden

A Reflection

We shall not cease from exploration, And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.                                                                                                                                                                                                – T. S. Eliot, from Four Quartets



At the western crest of the Old City near the Jaffa Gate, a cool breeze seems always to blow. It sweeps away the heat, the press of the crowds, the raucous voices of the venders hawking their wares in the bazaar, and sometimes even fatigue and confusion. Deep in the labyrinthine alleyways of the city bounded by pavement, mortar, and high stone walls, the breeze is stifled; it’s still there, lingering above, waiting for one to rise above the hubbub of the city to feel its revitalizing freshness. That’s the sense I had as I wandered the streets of the Old City. On this day, the press of the crowds was noticeably absent, and I caught a sense of the City Jesus knew.

In fact, I visited several sites authentic to the experience of Jesus. I traversed the southern ramparts of the outer wall until I caught a clear glimpse of the Temple Mount. And moving on, I caught a panoramic view of the Mt. of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane. In the gospel accounts, Jesus rested in Bethany the night before his fateful entrance into the city, and from there he made his way over the Mt. of Olives and through Gethsemane into Jerusalem.

It was a moving experience to stroll through the garden of Gethsemane among the ancient olive trees, where Jesus’ agonizing prayer seems to reverberate still. And yet, it was heartening to note that the road to Jericho skirts the garden; the road to Jericho that ever holds out the promise of a Good Samaritan; a courageous individual willing to risk comfort and safety for a higher cause… the care of neighbor. Some might call that peace, shalom, salaam… I count myself among them. This is where my journey to an inclusive faith began so many years ago, with Jesus’ expansive notion of neighbor that intimidates, challenges, and inspires my faith. I am reminded of the simple and simply profound poem by Edwin Markham entitled Outwitted:

He drew a circle that kept me out, heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But love and I had the wit to win,
and we drew a circle that took him in.

The circle has been drawn, and it’s big enough for all of us. We now have the opportunity to come full circle, and to know our faith again for the first time, in new and expansive ways. Would you care to join me in stepping aside to make way in the circle for others?