By Wendy Schonwetter, Special to JTNews
The instant I arrived I was thrust into a street scene of early Jerusalem. Merchants dressed in scratchy garb hawked their wares from tiny booths lining the street. Throngs of people milled about, meeting, greeting and shopping. I spied a tasty pear to purchase, but I was forbidden until I exchanged my “green paper” into Jerusalem coins with a money changer.
As I perused the goods for sale, there was an air of excitement and tension. Just then I heard someone blowing a shofar. It was time to take our seats.
I had been invited to see an interactive play called The Journey. In the main auditorium, the lights dimmed as merchants closed up their booths. Along a side wall, the temple facade and steps were bathed in early morning light as the action began. Soon, our attention was drawn to a kitchen scene where a man with a wonderfully resonant voice reminisced with his wife, Esther.
We entered into a flashback. The curtain onstage opened to a huge, glorious photo of the sky — perfectly illuminating a warm, engaging speaker. He meandered down a dusty mountain path strewn with large boulders and townspeople sitting in rapt attention. I soon learned that this gentle man was Jesus giving his Sermon on the Mount, and I was at a Passion Play!
When she invited me, my friend never mentioned it was a Passion Play. In the past, I would have been deeply offended by the invitation to attend a fundamentalist Christian church function. This time it was only a quick flash, however.
“Here we go again,” I thought. “Don’t they get it? I’m Jewish!” My failure to be offended troubled me at first, but that would soon change.
The Journey, the centerpiece of the entire Jerusalem event at Grace Community Church in Auburn, depicted the Jewish high priests as self-serving, greedy — and concerned. In the tense atmosphere of Pilate’s ruthless Roman occupation, Jews needed to keep a low profile if they were going to be permitted to worship. Jesus could have cost them that right because of the tumult his words generated. The Journey showed a reasonable Pilate finding no fault in Jesus, leaving the high priests to deal with the “Jesus problem” themselves.
I don’t profess to be much of a bible scholar or historian, but it is ridiculous to think that Pilate, who was legendary for his senseless brutality, can’t seem to find one reason to imprison, exile, or crucify Jesus, if only to protect his own job, which required keeping the peace.
The play wasn’t trying to convince me that I was bad, but I was clearly part of a people who had to fulfill the prophecy by killing Jesus.
A piece of social commentary barely alluded to was that due to the nature of oppression, the high priests were set up as scapegoats and portrayed as colluding with the Romans (as tax collectors). Did the Jews collude to convict and crucify Jesus? Not according to this rendition of the story — the Jews single-handedly decided his fate and executed him.
In the spirit of peace and my desire to connect, share, understand and be understood, I agreed to see the play. I disagreed with some of its content, but I was on their turf now, and I understood it would reflect beliefs I didn’t share.
The Journey, scripted by church member Jeanine Bartelt, was an engaging, well-performed, and welcoming production. Its purpose, according to John Bartelt, the rich- voiced actor and playwrite’s husband, is to reinforce Jesus’s message of hope and love, bringing it to life for those struggling with their faith. Jesus’s warmth and assurance could easily gain a following in those troubled times. If I didn’t have beliefs of my own, I could see being swept up in the actors’ inviting natures. Yet therein lies the problem: I do have my own beliefs.
Later, I asked my friend a simple question: was this a Passion Play? Really, I just wanted clarification from someone who knows. She qualifies, after all, having flown to Europe for the expressed purpose of seeing one. A simple yes or no would have sufficed, but she leaped out of her kitchen chair and landed in the farthest corner of her living room, clutching pillows as shields.
Defensive posturing — but no answer — followed, suggesting I had accidentally caught her trying to deceive me. She didn’t just want to enjoy my company; she wanted me to switch teams.
An uneasy conversation ensued. My friend expressed a genuine sense of caring for me as a person, along with the unflagging insinuation that what I believed in was wrong and the sooner I get onboard with her ideas, the better. She explained that God was offering me his love but I had to accept Jesus to receive it. Her assumption that I didn’t have a relationship, or the right relationship, with God hurt.
Additionally, she said I was in danger of not “being saved,” though what I need to be saved from was unclear. This was followed by the dread of another scripture-rich grilling on why I can’t see that Jesus is the Messiah.
Her syrupy-sweet exterior hid an awful truth: she believes that Jesus’ life and death fulfills the Jewish promise of a Messiah, so there is no need for me to remain Jewish. Our covenant has been superceded by a new Christian message, a supercessionist doctrine that has been renounced by all but the fundamentalists.
It’s as alluring as Jesus’ portrayal to have a friend speak so endearingly of me, and care so much for my well-being. Mixing that care with the message that my faith is no longer valid is confusing, manipulative and disrespectful.
Participating in The Journey, and the journey that followed, however, proved to deepened my faith. Maybe The Journey served its purpose after all.