The Garden of Hope

Cincinnati’s version of Rio’s “Christ the Redeemer.”
Ronny Salerno

It was one of those days where I could feel the cold in my fingers, where the temperature shifted dramatically between shade and sunlight as I walked the dog. At a time closer to Jesus’ “birthday” than Easter, the weather was seasonally appropriate with the occasional patch of ice on the roads. I had little to complain about, however, as I waited for Daniel. This would be a relatively short ride for me, he was the one who had the longer route today. And every day for that matter. My ten minute pedal to work is nothing compared to his weekday rides between Walnut Hils and Hebron—which if you’re not from Cincinnati means: an approximately 20 mile trip each way with some crazy hills through Downtown, across a state line, and over a river. Takes about two hours. But only an hour and a half if you’re friend, cyclist, and talented photographer Daniel Iroh.

My photos: Digital SLR
Daniel’s photos: An original Koni-Omega Rapid loaded with Portra 800, Cinestill 800T, and Fuji Acros II

Daniel and our bikes.
Ronny Salerno

This day’s trek ended up being pretty mild as the sun warmed things up and I struggled to catch Daniel on the hills. In decent time, we had arrived at our destination: a local religious curiosity known as “The Garden of Hope.” 

Daniel taking in the view (and lamenting that he forgot his telephoto lens).
Ronny Salerno

Overlooking the Ohio River, as well as, the skylines of Cincinnati and Covington, KY: the garden was billed as featuring a recreation of Jesus’ tomb. The one that the Bible tells of the Disciples finding empty after the son of God had been resurrected and went off to rub it in Thomas’ face.

View of Cincinnati and Covington, KY from The Garden of Hope.
Ronny Salerno

I felt that our visit here begged the question: If the second coming of Christ occurred today in the greater-Cincinnati area, what’s the first thing people would even say to Jesus Christ?

“Have you tried the chili?”

Hell, if he emerged here at this spot in particular, would Cincinnatians even embrace his return or stick to longstanding cross-river grudges? Annoyed that once again Northern Kentucky got something they didn’t. 

“First the airport, then a Hofbrahaus, now our savior! Give us Barabas Pete Rose!”

Maybe it’s not fair to make these jokes at the expense of The Garden of Hope, a place that by available accounts and personal experience seems to have been built with well-meaning religious sentiment—a stark contrast to Kentucky’s other faith-based tourism sites such as the ridiculous Creation Museum and Ark Encounter.

Note: Also had a joke in here about whether or not Pontious Pilot was based out of the Lunken (Ohio) or CVG (Kentucky) airports, but turns out his name was spelled PILATE, so it didn’t really work out. 

The garden’s chapel.
Daniel Iroh

The garden traces its roots back to 1938 when local reverend Morris Coers made a visit to the Holy Land and toured what’s believed by many Christians to be the tomb of Jesus Christ.

Although several purported locations of Jesus’ tomb exist, the most popular view seems to be that it can be found at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre within the Christian Quarter of Jerusalem. 

As the garden’s hand-painted sign tells:

“So moved by the experience, Rev. Coers became determined to build a replica of the tomb so that others who could not visit the site of the tomb could at least see what it was like. Through many years of prayer and struggle, such a place was built.”

The replica of Jesus’ tomb.
Ronny Salerno

Ronny Salerno

Daniel Iroh

Daniel Iroh

Plaque on the tomb replica.
Ronny Salerno

Tomb interior. The plaque inside reads: “NOW IN THE PLACE WHERE HE WAS CRUCIFIED THERE WAS A GARDEN: AND IN THE GARDEN A NEW SEPULCHER: WHERE WAS NEVER MAN YET LAID. THERE THEY LAID JESUS”
Ronny Salerno

The Garden of Hope opened in 1958 with its tomb replica, an onsite chapel, and a carpenter’s shop. Per a 2015 story in Kentucky Monthly: 300 tons of cement were required to construct the tomb and the entire attraction initially became a popular place for tourists, weddings, and religious services. The good reverend would pass away two years later and be buried on site. However, as one of the plaques dictates:

“When Mr. Coers died in 1960 he was buried in this garden in this spot. His marker stated ‘he went about doing good.’ There was a lot of vandalism at the garden. Mrs. Coers was afraid that they would disturb her husband’s body, so she had him exhumed and moved to Highland Cemetary a few miles away.” 

Former resting place of Reverend Coers.
Ronny Salerno

Chapel bells. A nearby plaque reads: “BELLS ON CHAPEL DONATED BY LAST [Louisville & Nashville Railroad] LOCOMOTIVE.
Ronny Salerno

Chapel bells. A nearby plaque reads: “BELLS ON CHAPEL DONATED BY LAST [Louisville & Nashville Railroad] LOCOMOTIVE.
Ronny Salerno

Boarded up chapel window.
Ronny Salerno

These days, the grounds are maintained by a local nonprofit. As Daniel and I found—regardless of your religious affiliation or feelings on faith—it’s a nice, quiet, and contemplative place to take in the view and take a moment for your thoughts. 

Daniel at the tomb.
Ronny Salerno

View of the Cincinnati and Covington skylines from the garden.
Ronny Salerno

Per the nearby plaque: “STONE FROM SOLOMON’S TEMPLE 500 POUND BLOCK FROM WAILING WALL NEXT TO EASTERN WALL.”
Ronny Salerno

Daniel Iroh

Ronny Salerno

Daniel Iroh

Ronny Salerno

Daniel Iroh

Ronny Salerno

Daniel Iroh

Ronny Salerno

Per the nearby plaque: “STONES FROM GOOD SAMARITAN INN OVER 2000 YEARS OLD FROM JERUSALEM”
Ronny Salerno

Daniel Iroh

View of Cincinnati from Edgecliff Rd. in Covington, KY.
Ronny Salerno


Since 2007, the content of this website (and its former life as Queen City Discovery) has been a huge labor of love.

If you’ve enjoyed stories like The Ghost Ship, abandoned amusement parks, the Cincinnati Subway, Fading Ads, or others over the years—might you consider showing some support for future projects? 


Previous
Previous

Pizza Hut Classic: “Wholesome” Nostalgia vs. “Newstalgia”

Next
Next

Scaffolding