“Huh,” said Mary, getting his point. “That makes me think about my work at the post office in a new way. I’m in the business of delivering words.”
“Yes, you are. So often we disparage words today, saying ‘talk is cheap’ or ‘that’s just words.’ But the truth is that words create reality.”
“I guess that’s why you’re here,” Mary said as they finished their work in the sanctuary. “Preacher, give us some words.”
The congregation that gathered on that second Sunday in August was again a bit larger than usual. Harley knew that times of turmoil and tragedy were actually a good time to be the church, because people were looking for a firm foundation to stand on. The pews were almost filled, and then Harley saw two visitors appear, Fatima and Sarah Bayati, covered with their usual colorful headscarves, and take a seat in the back row. A few church members looked surprised, but Harley noticed that a couple of others welcomed them with smiles.
For the scripture that day, Harley read from the fourth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew. “Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea,” he intoned, pointing up to the stained-glass window behind him. “Our window shows the sea that Matthew is talking about,” he said as an aside, “the Sea of Galilee.” Then, returning to the reading, “He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: ‘Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles—the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.’ From that time Jesus began to proclaim, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.’”
Harley closed the Bible and looked out over the faces in the congregation, people that had been strangers to him just two months before. They looked eager, maybe even anxious, to hear what he had to say. Words created reality.
“Galilee of the Gentiles,” said Harley, beginning his sermon. “That’s how Matthew describes the place where Jesus lived and worked. He doesn’t describe it as ‘Galilee of the Jews,’ even though Jesus and his disciples were all Jews. No, it is Galilee of the Gentiles. The region was full of Romans and other non-Jews, people called Gentiles. It was a very multicultural place.” He gazed to the back row and caught the eye of Fatima Bayati. “It was a place in which people had to talk to one another, really communicate with one another, if they were going to live in peace. They had to be willing to do business with each other and be neighbors to each other, if they were going to avoid fighting over culture and religion and politics.”
At that moment, the door of the sanctuary opened and Youssef and Sofia Ayad slipped in. They quietly entered and took a seat next to the Bayatis.
“When I was a divinity school student,” Harley continued, “I spent a summer doing an archaeological dig in Galilee. I worked in a town called Sepphoris, which is next door to Nazareth. We found a mosaic of a beautiful woman that has come to be known as the Mona Lisa of the Galilee.” As Harley pictured the mosaic, he thought of Norah Bayati—maybe she was the Mona Lisa of Occoquan. Shaking off the thought, he returned to his sermon.
“The important thing about Sepphoris is that it was a community in which Jews and Romans lived together in peace. They didn’t fight one another, even though Jews in other parts of the country had been involved in violent revolts against the Roman Empire for many years. Instead, Jews and Romans lived as neighbors and did business together. Some may have even had romantic relationships—we found some evidence of that in Sepphoris. They did so well that it became known as Eirenopolis, ‘City of Peace.’”
Sofia Ayad leaned over and whispered something to Fatima Bayati. Harley wondered what it was but kept going. “Here in Occoquan, we live in multicultural place as well: We have Christians, Jews and Muslims, representing different cultures, races and nationalities. We live next to a river, not a sea, but it would be fair to call us ‘Occoquan of the Gentiles.’ The question for us is the same one that faced the people of the Galilee. Will we fight over our differences, or will we live together in peace? Will we accept each other and communicate with each other, or will we live in the kind of isolation that leads to violence? I am convinced that isolation is a major problem for us today—just think of those terrorists in Woodbridge, cut off from the larger community and stewing in their resentments, plotting an act of violence that could have killed us all. This could have been a City of Violence! A City of Jihad!” Harley felt his passion rising as he departed from his manuscript. “We can all thank God that Omar Bayati stayed connected to our community and helped the authorities to prevent this disaster.” A number of people turned around to look at the Bayatis, and the two seemed embarrassed—but maybe also a little pleased—by the attention.
“My professor on the archaeological dig was a Jew,” Harley said, returning to his text. “He has worked hard over the years to support peace efforts in Israel. He sees the history of Sepphoris as a model for us today, and I remember him saying to us: ‘You should all be Galileans. Learn to live together as the people of Galilee did in Sepphoris. Galilee can be a model for Jews and Palestinians in Israel, and for Jews, Christians and Muslims in the United States.’” Harley saw a few nods through the congregation, and a smile from Youssef Ayad.
“I agree with my professor,” Harley continued. “Occoquan has not been a City of Peace, but it can be. We should all be Galileans here, whatever our religion. We should work together and be good neighbors to each other. Isolation breeds violence, while communication and community lead to peace. Do you remember what I said last week? The Spirit of God gives us gifts to advance the common good. We’ve seen the Spirit at work this week, helping ordinary people to do extraordinary things, including the foiling of a terrorist plot. We should be using these gifts every day here in Occoquan. God’s Spirit is present when people work and live together as one people, but terrible things happen when communities become fractured and polarized. We need to be Galileans!”
More people were now nodding, but he knew he couldn’t end there. There was still the elephant in the room—Dirk Carter.
“Hear the words of scripture,” he said. “‘Galilee of the Gentiles—the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.’ Here in Occoquan, we have sat in darkness, in the region and shadow of death. One of our own members has committed a terrible crime. He will pay for this crime for many years. But the promise of our faith is that God’s light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it. Our challenge today is to be light—be light to each other, be light to this community, be light to the Bayatis, be light even to Dirk Carter.” That last phrase created a hush in the congregation. “Yes, be light . . . even to Dirk. He needs it.”
Looking back at the stained-glass window, Harley said, “Look at the face of Jesus in our window. Such calm in the middle of a storm. Jesus says in today’s scripture that ‘the kingdom of heaven has come near.’ I believe that: The kingdom of heaven has come near, right here in Occoquan. It isn’t fully present, but it has come near. We have seen it in the events of the past week, and we have seen it in the bonds that are uniting us ever more strongly each day.” Looking around the sanctuary, Harley felt a rush of affection for the people sitting in its well-worn old pews. They didn’t have to be there, but they showed up again and again.
As he looked around, he remembered what the church had been named before it became Riverside Methodist. It was called Emanuel Baptist, and the name Emanuel meant “God is with us.” He suddenly realized that God was truly with them.
Harley glanced again at the stained-glass window. Something jumped out at him from the face of Jesus—the eyes. They were the eyes of Norah Bayati, the exact same eyes that had peered out at him from the family photo at Riverview Bakery. They were eyes that
looked at him and through him, seeing all. Eyes that knew suffering and sacrifice. Eyes with a life that could survive even death.
“Look at the face of Jesus,” Harley whispered to his congregation. “Look at the eyes. They’ll continue to watch us, here in the City of Peace.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My college roommate, Jay Tharp, brought a brochure home from his religion class, advertising the 1980 Duke Summer Semester in Israel. He decided not to go, but I jumped in—a decision that changed my life. Thanks, Jay, for decades of friendship, as well as for the brochure.
My love for the wisdom of the ancient world began that summer on an archaeological dig in the Galilee region of Israel, led by professors Eric and Carol Meyers. I realized then that all of the stories of the Bible were based on something real: soil, water, stones, olives trees, coins, sheep, goats, flesh-and-blood human beings. Working on a team of Jews and Christians, I also felt drawn to the interfaith community and made the decision to return to college as a religion major.
Several months later, I gave a presentation on my summer in Israel to the people of my home church, and sitting in the front row was Nancy Freeborne. She sensed my excitement about the discoveries I had made—about both religion and myself—and we began to date. Although her focus was biology, she supported me as I went to Yale Divinity School and prepared to work as a Presbyterian pastor. We married while I was a student, moved from Connecticut to Virginia, and along the way our family grew to include two children, Sadie and Sam, who are now young adults in New York City and Washington, DC. Nancy and our children have been constant supports to me, as a pastor and a writer.
I am also grateful for the encouragement offered by members of the churches I have served since 1986: First United Church of Christ of Milford, Connecticut; Calvary Presbyterian Church of Alexandria, Virginia; and Fairfax Presbyterian Church of Fairfax, Virginia. The work of ministry has always been attractive to me because it puts me in touch with stories that are real: people in homes, offices, and schools who struggle to overcome challenges with relationships, jobs, money, spirituality, and the chaos of current events. I love trying to make sense of it all through writing, whether I am crafting a sermon or a lesson or a church newsletter article. I have also been fortunate to write for a community far broader than the congregations I have served, through essays on religion and culture for The New York Times, The Washington Post, USA Today, and Huffington Post.
One conviction that has become stronger for me over the years is the importance of Christian hospitality, which is embedded deep in the wisdom of the ancient world. I am convinced that the key to overcoming divisions in church and society is to find ways to welcome and include people, just as Jesus did, around shared meals and community experiences. Not that hospitality is limited to Christianity—the practice is central to Judaism and Islam as well, and has potential to break down barriers between people around the world. After visiting a number of congregations that do a particularly good job of welcoming people, I wrote the book The Welcoming Congregation: Roots and Fruits of Christian Hospitality, and subsequently wove the practice of hospitality into the fictional story of Harley Camden and the people of Occoquan, Virginia.
Thanks to John Koehler, Joe Coccaro and Hannah Woodlan of Koehler Books, who have been a tremendous help in turning my manuscript into a book. Linda Carlton has done a terrific job with my author’s website, and Shari Stauch has been excellent in the marketing arena. I hope this novel will be the first in a series of “Mill Street Mysteries,” a name suggested by my daughter’s friend Kerry Connelly-Wojay, based on the address of Harley Camden. I dedicate this novel to family members Sadie, Sam and Nancy Freeborne Brinton, my fellow lovers of Occoquan, as well as to professors Eric and Carol Meyers, who introduced me to Sepphoris and started me on the road to the City of Peace.
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