Buried treasure

The draw for this evangelical educator is the almost-hidden tomb of the Rev. George Whitefield (pronounced WIT-field), the fiery evangelist who set colonial souls ablaze during the Great Awakening. Ever since 1770, when he died while passing through town, the remains of the “Grand Itinerant’’ have lain beneath the pulpit of First Presbyterian “Old South’’ Church, attracting throngs of faith-filled admirers.

That Whitefield rests here is not a fact locals advertise. No signs exist in Newburyport to guide out-of-town evangelicals, about 1,000 each year, who come to visit the gravesite. The crypt isn’t listed among historic sites on the website of the Greater Newburyport Chamber of Commerce & Industry. Only an 8-by-11-inch computer printout, taped to a side door of the church, confirms they’ve arrived at the right place.

Even so, homage-payers from 41 states and 22 countries have signed the crypt’s guest book over the past two years.

“We are making pilgrimage,’’ said Boomershine, who has brought student groups to the crypt on each visit to Newburyport. “That’s why we go: to learn better, to remember better.’’

Visitation to the crypt helps boost revenue for local merchants in this city where vacant storefronts are increasingly common. Old South pastor Rob John said visitors often ask him, “Where can I get a lobster around here?’’ He noted the crypt’s economic impact as a tourist draw to Newburyport when the church was seeking building restoration grant money from the City Council a few years ago.

“If you’re into spiritual renewal or revival, and a lot of conservative people are, then this is where you come,’’ Rev. John said in a recent interview. “Whitefield is the person who gives the historical context for that, because God used him in that way.’’

But Old South also has reasons for doing little to put the crypt on the radar of evangelicals worldwide. Visitation, which peaks during summer, is already so brisk that about 1 in 10 Old South members is trained to lead crypt tours. Old South member Jean Hansen said the church must be vigilant to make sure attention to the past doesn’t come at the expense of present-day ministries.

“Sometimes it’s a burden [to have Whitefield’s remains] because we concentrate too much on history and not enough on how God is working in our lives,’’ said Hansen. “I don’t want Whitefield to interfere with my relationship with God.’’

Rev. John tries to accommodate all tour requests, many of which come from Baptist pastors in Southern states. But he too sees a risk in making the site better-known.

“I could spend all day, every day, showing people around here,’’ says John during a crypt tour. When asked if he thought that would really happen with increased promotion, he replied without hesitation: “Oh yeah.’’

Old South, organized in 1742 in response to a Whitefield-led revival meeting, hasn’t always been so shy about promoting its buried treasure. According to Montclair State College historian Robert Cray Jr., the church kept Whitefield’s decaying remains visible for all but a few years between 1770 and 1933.

Early visitors, including Revolutionary War general Benedict Arnold, visited and took snippets of Whitefield’s surplice for good luck. When a stolen bone was recovered in 1849, thousands marched through town to the crypt to restore it. Decades later, church members installed a glass lid and gas lamp for easy viewing. For a time, they charged admission before permanently sealing the tomb with slate tiles.

Today, visitors to the crypt find a simple scene. They descend an old set of wooden stairs and peer into a brick-encased alcove, where a white plaster skull sits atop a plaster replica of the Bible. Under the tiles, Whitefield’s remains are flanked by those of two early pastors of Old South. A plaque quoting Whitefield suggests he knew he was a controversial figure in his day: “I am content to wait till the Day of Judgment for the clearing of my character.’’ Guest books under glass contain signatures dating to 1869. John said visitors often look around, say a prayer, and leave energized.

Pilgrims say getting close to Whitefield’s remains links them to his legendary ministry, which was marked by huge outdoor crowds and tearful displays of repentance. The Rev. Grif Vautier, a Presbyterian pastor in Kingman, Ariz., said his visit to the crypt “infused me with more energy and drive to present the Word of God.’’ He left inspired for a new mission: to do Whitefield impersonations full-time in retirement.

“He was the Billy Graham of his age, [and] I felt I was touching base with a fellow servant of Christ,’’ Vautier said. “We desperately need to feel that spiritual awakening again.’’

Visitors often return with friends, John said. Kevin Adams, pastor of East Baptist Church in Lynn, said he routinely brings visitors from his native Wales to pay respects at Whitefield’s grave. Jason Wakefield, pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church in Nashua, has three times chartered a bus to bring the curious to sites associated with Whitefield’s final days, including the site in Exeter, N.H., where he delivered his last sermon.

Even passionate visitors, however, have mixed feelings about whether the crypt should be promoted. Wakefield said he wishes more people of faith knew about the site, but he also likes that there’s little commercial fanfare surrounding it and others where Whitefield preached, such as Pulpit Rock in Rowley, and the rock once commonly known as Whitefield’s Pulpit in Ipswich.

“You can kind of walk around and find these things in an obscure way,’’ Wakefield said. “You feel like you’re getting a behind-the-scenes tour. You’re meeting the librarians and ministers who can tell you the stories that you didn’t know about. It’s fun.’’

In the future, tourists are apt to find the crypt added to a list of historic sites on the Chamber of Commerce website and included in materials marketing Newburyport as a cultural heritage destination, according to Ann Ormond, chamber president. But responsibility for promoting the crypt will continue to rest primarily with Old South, she said, in part because a historic tomb doesn’t command the same appeal as other attractions.

“I don’t know many kids who’d want to hear [their parents say], ‘OK, we’re going to go down to the crypt,’ ’’ Ormond said.

Meanwhile at Old South, the centuries-old discussion about how to manage visitation continues. Kara Peters said she finds Whitefield’s legacy “energizing’’ for the church, though she’s wary of making too much of it: “I want this to be a living church, not a museum.’’ Church member Stewart Stokes also said he sees increased crypt visitation as an important tool for keeping the church afloat and vibrant.

“We’ve got to get the word out’’ about Old South’s historic treasures, including the crypt, Stokes says. “We’ve got an internationally known evangelist . . . buried in the crypt. So it becomes a destination of sorts.’’