By Tonia Moxley
The Roanoke Times
July 28, 2009
Summary: Retired Virginia National Guard Sgt. 1st Class Debra Weir grew to love Iraq and hopes its biblical heritage is preserved.

BOONES MILL — It’s been five months since Debra Weir returned from Iraq, but she still savors the taste of an ice-cold Coke unwarmed by the desert sun.

She likes going to the bathroom without having to don a uniform and walk 100 steps across a sandy expanse.

Weir revels in canoe trips with her husband, Dave, and simply being near her two sons, Benjamin and Nickolas.

But she misses some things from Iraq: singing in Camp Adder’s church choir and long talks with friends in the on-post women’s Bible study group. Most of all, she remembers time alone, away from her Boones Mill home and everything familiar, that she said helped her grow closer to God.

Weir didn’t return from Operation Iraqi Freedom with physical injuries or symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, as have many of her fellow troops.

Despite living in a combat zone for 10 months, she didn’t even fire at an enemy. But her deployment to the biblical land of Ur has changed the 26-year military veteran in ways she never imagined.

“I had the … opportunity to go and walk on the ground of Abraham. To me, that’s mind-boggling,” Weir said.

Wellspring of faith

Contingency Operating Base Adder, Iraq, about 200 miles southeast of Baghdad, is a sprawling coalition forces base set in open desert near the Iran and Kuwait borders.

Soldiers from the Virginia Army National Guard’s 1710th Transportation Company, stationed there from mid-2008 to early 2009, provided logistical support to troops across Iraq.

Weir — a sergeant first class in the Guard, and in her civilian life tourism manager for Franklin County — was one of those soldiers.

She and her fellow soldiers, like the ancients before them, plied the dangerous desert roads in supply convoys, ever alert for attack from an unseen enemy.

It wasn’t fear of improvised explosive devices or mortar attacks that deepened her faith, Weir said, although she experienced nearly a dozen shellings at Camp Adder.

It wasn’t just support from her “battle buddy and spiritual partner,” Lt. Sheryl Lloyd, that made her, as Weir says, a better person.

A big part of it was walking on and touching with her own hands the wellspring of faith for Islam, Judaism and Christianity: the house of Abraham.

A snapshot of Weir in uniform shows her sitting on a reconstructed stoop of the 27-room complex believed by many scholars to be the house of Terah, an idol merchant and father of Abraham.

Abraham’s childhood home sits in the shadow of the great Ziggurat of Ur, a 4,000-year-old temple complex dedicated to the moon god, patron deity of the ancient city.

Ur was one of Mesopotamia’s wealthiest and most vibrant cities. And the Ziggurat of Ur is one of dozens of similar temple compounds built around ancient Mesopotamia, which may have included the biblical Tower of Babel.

Centuries before the birth of Jesus, Abraham of Ur is said to have defied the pagan religion of his father and worshipped one God.

According to the Book of Genesis, God commanded his loyal servant: “Leave your country, your people and your father’s household and go to the land I will show you.

“I will make you into a great nation and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and … all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.”

Muslims trace their lineage through Muhammad back to Ishmael, son of Abraham and a servant. Jews — and by extension, Christians — trace their lineage back to Isaac, son of Abraham and Sarah.

Before 1700 B.C., Abraham made his way to present-day Jerusalem, a land promised by God in the Old Testament to Abraham’s descendants forever. And they have been fighting over it ever since.

For the past six years, American and coalition forces have been battling Iraqi insurgents in and around Ur and throughout Iraq.

Previously Iraq’s most famous tourist destination, the ziggurat complex has been part of Camp Adder since 2003, putting it off-limits to all but military personnel and approved visitors.

The foundations of the ziggurat and Abraham’s birthplace were reconstructed by Saddam Hussein after Pope John Paul II requested permission in 1999 to pray at the house. But security concerns and political posturing led to the cancellation of the trip, the New York Times reported.

Weir was able to arrange three trips for soldiers to the sacred sites, and found an Iraqi tour guide to explain their significance.

Weir said she was stunned that she could touch the cuneiform carved into the walls and descend into the tombs of the ancients.

“I wasn’t looking at it through glass. I was breathing it, touching it, walking it,” she said.

Deepened faith

Raised a Presbyterian in Norfolk, baptized a Southern Baptist as a teenager, Weir said she later attended a United Church of Christ congregation. But it wasn’t until her father died shortly before her deployment last year that her faith really started to grow.

“I’m a new Christian. I’m learning,” she said.

Little by little, people around Weir fed her spirit. Her mother-in-law’s prayers for her helped. Christian music — Toby Mack kind of music, not Sandy Patty style, Weir emphasized — encouraged her along her path.

Living in Iraq and strengthening her friendship with Lloyd, Weir’s military superior and spiritual adviser, brought her a long way.

“I saw the growth in her, as we got into the word,” Lloyd said. “She was just more committed to the Lord.”

As the women saw their comrades’ marriages falling apart, they encouraged each other “to stay pure,” Lloyd said.

Weir said she met fellow soldiers traumatized by their experiences, “but they had such a spirit.”

“It’s a holy land that’s just full of a lot of hell right now,” Lloyd said of Iraq.

While on the roads, Weir saw Iraqi children begging the convoys for food and living in tents nearby.

Through it all, her visits to Abraham’s house grounded her, she said. “I read Genesis. I’ve studied the Old Testament. But I didn’t realize until I looked at a map … this is the cradle of civilization. … I felt like I was doing my spiritual journey.”

Hopes for Iraq’s future

Before deployment, “I was fearful. I was expecting to get shot. I expected the people to really hate us,” Weir said.

But while there, she formed relationships with Iraqis who worked on the base. By the end of her tour, she was no longer afraid.

“The whole deployment was God’s plan for me to be a better person. I’m different.”

Weir said that in the desert she found a new spiritual and religious identity tied not to a brick-and-mortar church, but to a deep sense of gratitude.

“I make a conscious effort to be appreciative,” Weir said. “I try to say thank you … for food on the table, my two sons. I love our property. We have money to put gas in the car. … I have the best job in the world.”

Weir said she was blessed to fulfill a lifelong desire to serve her country and to experience a different culture. Now, she hopes Iraq can be stabilized.

“I wish people could get in their car and do things and not have to worry about being stopped or being shot at or being blown up,” she said.

While there, Weir wanted to broaden her pilgrimage and visit Babylon and the presumed site of the Tower of Babel, a truck ride away. But it wasn’t feasible.

“It’s hard to get off post,” Weir said. “I would have needed a gun escort.”

The tourism manager sees incredible potential for Iraq that can only be achieved by peace.

“They have so much to offer people outside their little Middle East world,” she said. “I hope for a time when Christians … and Muslims … can go and do a pilgrimage there. I tell you, it got me reading the Bible again.”

In May, according to an Army news release, security for the Ziggurat of Ur and Abraham’s house was ceremoniously transferred to Iraqi police and the country’s ministry of tourism.

Since returning home, Weir has retired from the Guard and joined American Legion Post No. 6 in Rocky Mount. She is only the third woman to do so.

But she hasn’t yet found a permanent church.

Copyright 2009 The Roanoke (Va.) Times

By Tonia Moxley
The Roanoke (Va.) Times
July 12, 2009
Summary:
Holy Land USA in Bedford County reopened last year after a hiatus for repairs. For some, it’s a tourist attraction. For others, it’s a place for a spiritual journey.

BEDFORD — In the shadows of Golgotha, a group of Christians broke into song on a recent Saturday.

“Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. King and kingdom will all pass away. But there’s something about that name.”

Below the three rough-hewn crosses of Mount Calvary sat Jesus’ tomb, a cave lit by a fluorescent light and explained by a sign: “The Tomb is Empty!”

Mickie Moss of South Carolina was one of the faithful at the foot of the cross, traveling on her second pilgrimage to Bedford County’s Holy Land USA.

Opened in 1972, the park features a three-mile motorized tour of replicas of biblical sites in Israel. This time, Moss brought a handful of fellow parishioners from Fingerville Baptist Church in Spartanburg, S.C. The group of seven joined about 50 others from Piney Hill Baptist Church in Amherst for the tour.

For Moss, the second visit was as moving as the first she made a decade ago.

“This is a blessing. … Whenever I’ve got a crisis in my life, God always gives me peace in my heart. This reminds me of everything God does for me, how he suffered and died,” she said.

An unusual pilgrimage

Holy Land USA might be called a theme park by some, a quirky spiritual landmark by others. “Weird Virginia” authors classified it in their 2007 book as a roadside attraction and devoted four pages to it.

But its founder, Robert Johnson, considered Holy Land a pilgrimage site and a living memorial to his son, 24-year-old Campbell Johnson, who died suddenly in 1972 and was buried on the property.

Built on an old farm Johnson bought in ’72, Holy Land operated continuously until 2005, when general manager Richard Dooley closed it and began the search for a buyer.

During his lifetime, Johnson visited Israel nearly a dozen times and wanted to re-create the experience for those unable take the real pilgrimage, Dooley said.

The Bedford County park is not unique. Various Holy Land theme parks exist across the country. Most notable among them is the Orlando, Fla.-based Holy Land Experience profiled in Bill Maher’s “Religulous” documentary. But the spirit of Johnson’s version is more reminiscent of an old country church than of a religious Disneyland. Despite its simplicity, Holy Land became a regular destination for church field trips and tour buses. Over more than three decades, it drew an estimated 500,000 visitors and took in about $5 million in donations, Dooley said.

In its earlier years, walkers could tour Holy Land for free. For a nominal fee, visitors could ride open-air vehicles staffed by trained guides. Herds of sheep and other animals mentioned in the Bible roamed the park.

Today, the animals, except one sheep, are gone. Tours cost $10. But pilgrims still ride along a woodland trail to replicas of more than a dozen sacred sites, many of them conceived by Johnson.

Volunteer tour guides such as Dave Ward give minisermons at each site illustrating key stories from Jesus’ life and ministry.

The old farm is a quiet place for reflection, “where you can hear the still, small voice,” Ward said. “God’s voice doesn’t always come in a clap of thunder.”

The journey, as volunteers call it, begins and ends at Bethlehem Barn, a diorama of Jesus’ birth and early life. The building also serves as the park’s operations center and contains a chapel used by congregations such as the Cowboy Church and the Bluegrass Church.

The tour proceeds to Shepherd’s Field, a grassy slope embedded with a huge stone star, representing the star that is said to have led three kings to the infant savior.

Pilgrims pass through Cana, where Jesus is said to have turned water into wine. They go on to the Sea of Galilee, where the rabbi calmed a storm and walked on water.

Along the way, visitors follow the “little Jordan River” to a baptismal pool marked by a concrete cross and a sign depicting the baptism of Jesus. The loft of an old farm building re-creates the Upper Room, where Christ is said to have eaten with the disciples before his crucifixion.

While it seems kitschy to some, the park’s earnestness can be profoundly moving.

“I have known of people saved on the journey trail,” officer manager Pat Maxfield said.

Family tragedy

“I’m sure it has a lot of meaning to a lot of people,” Johnson’s daughter, Jennie Sue Murdock, said of the park.

But for her, talk of Holy Land evokes sad memories of family divisions. The revelation upon his death in 1999 that Johnson had turned over the property to Bible Center Chapel and spent family resources to keep it going “hit like a ton of bricks,” she said.

At one point in his career, Johnson owned a successful grocery store and substantial real estate holdings around Bedford, including the original 400-acre park. But the costs of keeping Holy Land afloat took a financial toll.

“He was just about bankrupt. He poured so much money into it,” Murdock said.

Murdock said she suspects Holy Land “became … a creative religious outlet” for Johnson that may have helped him cope with his son’s untimely death.

“Dad took it very hard,” Murdock said of Campbell Johnson’s passing. “It was extremely hard on every one of us.”

“It was his life,” Dooley said of Robert Johnson’s attachment to Holy Land. “He spent $1,000 a week, year after year out of his pocket.”

Despite its prominence in his life, Holy Land is not mentioned in Johnson’s obituary.

Dooley said that in transferring ownership of the property, Johnson hoped to protect the park from development.

Dooley managed Holy Land for nearly 30 years and was named a trustee in 1992. He pastored Bible Center Chapel, an entity Dooley said was formed by him and Johnson as a holding company for Holy Land USA. Johnson, and his wife donated the land to the chapel, a nondenominational church.

After years of keeping it going, in 2005, Dooley said he felt his Holy Land ministry had come to an end. He closed the park to the public and later searched for a buyer.

In 2008, he and the chapel congregation sold the park to a group of trustees headed by Mike Dodson, pastor of Tree of Life Ministries in Lynchburg. The new trustees bought the property for $750,000, Dodson said. It is assessed for tax purposes at $1.4 million.

From the sale, $400,000 went to pay off the park’s debts, Dooley said. And $350,000 was financed by the chapel and goes to that congregation. Dooley declined to comment on what the chapel congregation, which still meets occasionally, plans to do with the money.

“It’s entirely up to them,” Dooley said.

Resurrection

“Distinctively different” is Tree of Life’s motto, and the Pentecostal organization is known for unorthodox ministries such as its Biker Church. While Holy Land is a separate legal entity, Dodson said, it fits into that vision.

“We see it as a way to reach people that a church building wouldn’t,” he said.

Trustees and volunteers celebrated the reopening of Holy Land USA on Easter morning 2008 with a sunrise service. Since then, converts have been baptized in little Jordan and tour buses again ply the rough gravel roads.

Trustees have spent thousands of dollars on advertising and marketing to draw more visitors, Dodson said.

In addition to entry fees, the facility is supported by a small gift shop, rental income from an on-site retreat center and sales of burial plots in the Mount of Olives cemetery, which is also a stop on the tour.

Holy Land is considered an important part of the local economy by Bedford County tourism officials.

“It is its own draw,” tourism director Sergei Troubetzkoy said. “We get quite a few calls from people, and that’s the one thing they are asking about.”

The park also benefits Bedford businesses, such as Olde Liberty Station Restaurant. Holy Land visitors often stop there to eat, Troubetzkoy said.

Still, it’s been a struggle to restart the operation, Dodson said.

The park can afford only one paid staff member and relies on a group of about 50 volunteers who do everything from run the gift shop to lead tours to clean the grounds. Spring floods damaged some of the most important sites, requiring costly repairs.

Although traffic is picking up with better weather, Dodson said, some months have been slow.

For the park to break even, it must attract at least 300 visitors a week.

Dooley, now retired, said he knows how hard it is to keep the park going. Without an endowment, paying the bills at Holy Land has always required aggressive fundraising.

In lean months, Dodson said Holy Land sometimes runs special sales on burial plots.

“It’s been hard,” Dodson said. “But we have no intention of giving up.”

The trustees are considering construction of a Holy Land USA visitor’s center and thrift store along U.S. 460 in Bedford. It’s hoped such a center would draw more walk-in visitors and raise the profile of the park.

“Right now, it’s operated totally off of faith,” Dodson said.

News researcher Belinda Harris contributed to this report.

Copyright 2009 The Roanoke (Va.) Times

Tonia Moxley
The Roanoke (Va.) Times
May 16, 2009

I can’t remember whose idea it was to perm my hair the day before my baptism at the age of 12.

While the words of the preacher and the sensations of immersion have long since faded from memory, a few images remain crystal clear.

I can still picture the baptismal tank that sat in front of a perspective painting of the Jordan River — meant, of course, to create the illusion that we converts were standing in the holy river where John the Baptist immersed Jesus.

But most vividly, I recall the image of my head in the mirror after the dunking. I resembled nothing so much as a mutant Chia Pet.

I remember my grandmother crying softly in the pew beside me as I stood later in the congregation, a cloud of potent chemical vapors eddying around me as I gave my post-baptism testimony.

Women readers will fill in the blanks here, knowing that anyone in her right mind waits at least two — and preferably three — days before shampooing newly permed hair. Otherwise, you tend to look and smell something like a wet poodle.

If I were a theologian, I might title this column the hermeneutics of hair and try to tease some broader meaning from the experience.

But really it’s just a reminder to me, as I begin my tenure as your religion reporter and columnist, that our stories of faith are not just about ideologies and theological concepts. They’re not just about religious leaders and church politics.

Some are moving. Some sad. Some funny. But all are about people — Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist or no affiliation at all — and how we live out our faith despite our doubts and imperfections.

A friend once told me no subject is too small for prayer. Not even hair.

In this spirit, you and I begin a journey. I’m here to listen to and to tell your stories of faith, be they large, or small.

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The Roanoke Valley Interfaith Hospitality Network is set to hold a “Footsteps for Families: A Walk to End Family Homelessness” fundraiser from 2 to 4 p.m. Sunday at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Salem. Founded in 1997, the network helps provide food, temporary housing, day care and other services for homeless families with children. For more information, visit www.rvihn.com/events.html or call 343-9982.

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Swine flu has some Christians worried about the safety of drinking from a “common cup” during Communion. Although the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has for many years declared the infectious disease risk from the common cup as very low, some churches are modifying their practices and reassuring congregants that they may abstain from the wine while taking Communion. For more information, visit http://tinyurl.com/r4gqzl.

Copyright 2009 The Roanoke (Va.) Times