Tasting Germany

One thing I loved about Germany was tasting the sausages. Every region had its own specialty. Berlin had currywurst—sliced sausage in a red curry sauce. Eisenach had Thuringer sausage, a sort of super-sized bratwurst served on an undersized bun (just big enough to hold the sausage in one hand without getting messy!). Munich had a white veal sausage, weisswurst, that was served primarily in the morning (often with a wheat beer), brought to the table in a huge terrine filled with boiling water to keep the sausages hot.

Pork was definitely a mainstay in the German diet (I think we must have eaten our body weight in it while we were there), but there was one dish that stood out among the many we tried: roasted pork knuckle. Seeing knuckles roasting in a window was all it took to get us past the thought of what we were actually eating to try this German treat.  And oh, what a wonderful treat! The roasted cracklings are an indulgence beyond decadent, and the steaming meat inside is roasted to perfection. Pork knuckle, we decided, was the meal of travel champions! Washed down with a nice pilsner and accompanied by a fresh-baked pretzel, there couldn’t be a finer meal.

If I ever need a second career, it could easily be barmaid in a German beer garden.

There’s something to love about German cuisine (don’t even get me started on the custom of afternoon strudel!).

At this point, you may be thinking that all we did was eat . . . but we actually did manage to squeeze some sight-seeing in between meals.

After we left Weimar, we went on a blitz of Luther sites, starting with the monastery where he was trained and ordained. We arrived on a Sunday morning just in time for worship in the small chapel, which in Luther’s time had been the place where novices received their robes, had their hair shaved in the tonsure style of monks, and took their vows. How amazing to think that Luther himself had knelt on the floor stones beneath us as he began the journey that would lead him to become one of the most renowned theologians of all time.

You’ll see that with my new German haircut I fit right in to the monastic scene (and no, I’m not going to say whether I had a tonsure or not . . . you’ll just have to guess . . . but do ask me about the experience of getting a haircut in a country where I couldn’t speak the local language . . . that was an adventure!).

The service at the Monastery was in German, of course, but it had the familiar feel of a comfortable shoe—the cadence of the Lutheran liturgy is universal. Luckily, the hymn tunes were all familiar, so we could sing along . . . and nobody gave us the stink-eye for our less than perfect pronunciation.

People were remarkably friendly, sharing their hymnals with us and helping us find our way through the communion procession without causing a traffic jam. The pastor was very attentive to us as guests, and made us feel very welcome indeed. And—the best thing of all was that the pastor was a woman! How wonderful to see so clearly the seeds of reformation that Luther planted so long ago still bearing fruit for a changing and vibrant faith today!

We had a big travel agenda, so we didn’t have time to explore the Erfurt further (a good reason to go back someday). Instead, we set our course for Eisenach, Luther’s birthplace and also the place where he took his last breath (and preached his last sermon).

Just outside of Erfurt, we stopped to see the Luther Stein (or stone) that marked the spot where the Reformation began (a source of great pride for the people of Thuringia). At this very spot, on July 2, 1505, Luther on a foot journey between his parent’s home in Eisenach and the University at Erfurt, where he was studying law, (a journey that took us half a day at autobahn speeds, mind you) was caught in a ranging thunderstorm. In his terror, he prayed to St. Anna to intercede for his safety, promising to serve the Lord who could save him by becoming a monk: “Help, St. Anna, I will become a monk.” What’s really remarkable is that the saint to whom he prayed was the very Anna who had been the beloved first Lady of Wartburg Castle, where Luther, years later, would take refuge from the church that excommunicated him, and where he translated the New Testament and wrote many works that fueled the reformation!). So, in essence, St. Anna led him to safety (and closer to God’s mission) twice!

While Thuringia claimed to be the birthplace of the reformation and took great pride in their monk, his father did not. When Hans Luder (Luther’s birth name, which he changed during his academic years), heard about Luther’s decision to become a monk, he wrote him, “If only you have not seen an apparition!” Luder, like most parents whose children are called to enter ministry, fear for their futures! (Oh ye of little faith!)

Luther’s father may not have been proud of Luther, but Eisenach, the place where Luther was born (November 10, 1483), and where he died, has memorialized Luther with several monuments and shrines. There, you’ll find a wonderful museum of Luther’s family life (though his family moved out of Eisenach shortly after his birth). You’ll also find a wonderful museum about his last days and his thoughts on death. Though the museum’s claim to be his “death house” is really not accurate—the actual house where Luther died has become a guesthouse where you can stop in and drink a toast to the reformer—it does contain many of the furnishings and objects that were present at his death). In Eisenach, you can also visit the churches where Luther was baptized (St. Andrew’s) and where he preached his last sermon just days before his death (St. Peter and St. Paul) . . . that is, if you’re luckier than we were and visit when the churches are open.

Our Luther tour ended in Wittenberg, where the reformation really took hold. Wittenberg is the city where Luther spent most of his adult life, raising his family with his wife Katie, a former nun who managed his household like she was running a convent (and, as luck would have it, they actually lived in an old monastery, so they almost always had a houseful of students boarding with them, so it might not have been so different than monastic life . . . just a whole lot livelier!). Luther taught at the University of Wittenberg as a theology professor, and preached frequently at St. Mary’s and the Castle Church (of the famed 95 Theses posting). As luck would have it, the Luther House was closed the day of our visit . . . as was the Castle Church. There are lots of preparations underway to spruce up the Luther heritage sites before the 500^th anniversary of the reformation which will be celebrated in 2017. Perhaps we should start thinking now about how we want to celebrate the anniversary. It’s going to be a biggy!

 

Wittenberg was a lovely town, and we thoroughly enjoyed our time there. For me, it was awe-inspiring to be in the church (St. Mary’s) where the reformation really began . . . with worship in German (instead of Latin), engaging preaching, popular music and robust congregational singing, and communion in both kinds (bread AND wine–the church had been so nervous about spilling Jesus’ blood, that they had stopped sharing the wine with parishioners before the Reformation!). The church was absolutely beautiful . . . and it held many artworks by Luther’s contemporary and staunch supporter, Lucas Cranagh the Elder. My favorite was the altar piece, a painting of the Last Supper in which Luther and the reformers sat in for Jesus’ disciples (Luther, wearing a beard, is the one on the right turning to reach for the cup).

I wish we had a painting of all of us at the table too! Even though we’re not in this painting, we are certainly part of a church that is continually reforming.  Thanks be to God!  While we were at St. Mary’s, we lit a candle and said a prayer that Redeemer would always be responsive to the nudges of Jesus’ Holy Spirit leading us boldly into the future that God has in store for us.

Sommergewinn (Summer will win!)

We left the chill of Berlin behind and headed south for a few days with Ken’s cousin Lee, who has lived on and off in Frankfort for over 20 years. Lee was going to tour us through the Luther sites before we needed to meet up with Ken’s students in Munich, so we had lots to pack in just a few days. We travelled by train to Eisenach, where Lee picked us up in his sporty new Mercedes. What a treat to have our own chauffeur and translator for the week!

We visited Wartburg, the castle where Luther spent ten months in hiding under the protection of his Prince, Fredrick the Wise after being excommunicated by the pope–and outlawed by the emperor—at his trial at the Diet of Worms. Here, he ditched his monk’s robe, grew his hair and beard, and assumed an alias, Junker Jörg, to be sure that no one would ever mistake him for the outlaw Martin Luther.

The name “Wartburg” means “Waiting Castle,” and here, Luther used his “season of waiting” with remarkable productivity. During our visit, it was easy to imagine the young Luther finding his muse here. Situated high above Eisenach, overlooking beautiful countryside, it was a perfectly peaceful, romantic place, infused with the goodness of Saint Elizabeth (a Hungarian Princess, married to Ludwig IV in the early 13^th century) who, during her short time in Germany (she died at the very young age of 24), modeled her life after St. Francis of Assisi, living a life of asceticism and caring for the poor. Often, she was seen carrying bread to feed to the poor outside of the castle.

Luther thought very highly of St. Elizabeth, and I’m sure her connection to the castle made his stay even more meaningful for him. During his stay, he spent his days writing several of his famous reformation works and translating the New Testament from Greek into German (a translation that formalized the German language—a feat that makes him as popular in German with non-Lutherans as Lutherans!). Sometimes it is the unexpected blessing of solitude that enables us to do our best work! Would that we all could have our own “wart-burgs!”

Though Luther could travel about the country in his disguise, he must have spent a good deal in his “stube” or room, and in the castle chapel.

  

Our stay in Eisenach just happened to coincide with Sommergewinn a Spring Festival in which Herr Winter battles it out with Frau Summer (Winter actually gets burned by the heat of summer in a big bonfire at night in this “Summer Wins” celebration!). Lucky for us. It was a trill to see a small village come to life with a carnival atmosphere and an enormous parade with horse-drawn floats. The entire history of the city was on parade—The Vikings, St. Elizabeth, and even Martin Luther (in chains and holding a Bible!), passed through town, along with Mr. and Mrs. Winter and Mrs. Summer—and her entourage of flowers, sheep, bees, and beer (we are in Germany, after all!).

The parade was so wonderful that we weren’t even sorry to have missed seeing the Luther House. It—along with many other Luther sites on our agenda—was under renovation, getting ready for the big 500^th anniversary of the reformation celebrations coming in 2017.

No Luther House visit, but we did manage to see the St. George’s School where Luther had been a young student 1498-1501. There we saw the first of dozens of Luther statues spread throughout the central region of Germany. We also glimpsed the Bach House, but alas, didn’t have time to stop in for a visit.

Lee was surprised at how lovely Eisenach was since his last visit. Cities in former East Germany have been slowly transforming from the bleak, unadorned, unpainted cities of Soviet Occupation (when construction materials were simply not available) to charming cities again. As they continue to reclaim their past glory, getting the attention and funding they need for renovation and refurbishment (from a hefty German surtax citizens have been paying since the fall of the DDR), these former eastern cities are wonderful places to visit . . . and food and lodging costs are very reasonable.

There are only small signs of the former soviet occupation, like this remnant of the wall out in the idyllic countryside, shown to us by Lee’s friend, Gudron Kranz, who joined us for a couple of days of sight-seeing in Eisenach and Weimar (where her daughter Helge entertained us at her beautiful home).

Gudon also took us to an enchanting place called Die Drachenschlucht (Dragon’s Canyon—or “gullet”). After having been in cities for two months straight, our day in the country was a wonderful treat!

It’s truly amazing how pleasant a journey can become when it’s shared with people who so enjoy sharing the best of their homeland with you!

 

Remembering the Past

One of the reasons that Berlin feels like such a cold and hard city is that it has devoted itself to remembering the past truthfully and owning up to its dark history. Bringing the truth to light following the Holocaust can’t have been easy, but now, 70 years after the conclusion of WWII, the story is being told so that the systemic evil that existed during Hitler’s reign of terror will never be possible again.

Much work has been done to memorialize the dead so that what happened here won’t ever be forgotten. Germany wants to raise up future generations that will be fully aware of the country’s past so that the past cannot be repeated.  Monuments throughout the country (and regular visits to them by school children) will ensure that the memory of the victims lives on.  It was amazing to see just how powerful and plentiful  these memorials were.

Stolpersteins, or stumbling stones, created by Gunter Demnig, are small brass cobblestones that mark the former homes of holocaust victims. Unless you look where you are walking, you’d never see them. You literally stumble upon them and are reminded again and again that real people lost their lives in a real act of genocide in a civilized nation. We learned about the stones in Berlin, but saw them in every city we visited. Each stone names a person who was a victim of the Nazis and what their fate was.

A walk through the Tiergarten (central park) in Berlin takes you through several more visible memorials to those murdered under the Third Reich’s National Socialist regime of ethnic cleansing. There are memorials to the murdered Roma and Sinti people (known commonly as “Gypsies”), homosexuals, and the Jews. Each monument, in its own right, creates space for reflection about the people who are no longer here because of the holocaust. The Roma-Sinti memorial is a beautiful reflecting pool surrounded by trees and stones that name the death camps where these nomadic people lost their lives. Haunting violin music plays from speakers in the trees while you mourn the loss of these vibrant, yet marginalized, people.

The monument to murdered homosexuals, also in the Tiergarten, is a stark stone slab that encases a video of two men in a loving embrace . . . as if their love has been frozen for all time, no longer living and breathing.

The Memorial to Murdered Jews stands near to the Brandenburg Gate, highly visible on a main thoroughfare through the city for all to see. It is an entire city block covered with stone slabs (“stelae”) that seem representative of gravestones (over 2000 of them), but as you enter the memorial, you feel a sense of overwhelming disorientation as the stones grow taller and taller and eventually surround you, blocking out the light and creating a feeling of helplessness and aloneness that is hard to fathom in a place that is so highly populated with visitors.

Each monument evoked emotions that are difficult to shrink into words. A combination of sorrow for what has been done in the past and longing for a future where the love of God moves more deeply in and through our encounters with one another . . . especially the others with whom we have, perhaps, little in common . . . permeated my time at these places of remembering.

Visiting the Jewish Museum helped us understand the systemic racism that led to Hitler’s desire to solve the “Jewish problem.”  Jews had been marginalized for centuries in Europe, often targeted as the scapegoats in the communities in which they lived.  Words painted on a remnant of the Berlin wall spoke eloquently about how each of us has the power to prevent the marginalization of others by how we treat them.

Though we typically think only of the “marginalized” victims of the Nazis, there were many other victims, including the prisoners of war that were captured and sent to concentration camps (over 10,000 Soviet prisoners of war were murdered in a concentration camp just outside of Berlin alone). There were also many political victims of the Third Reich.  Near the Reichstag, there is a memorial to the members of the Reichstag who were murdered because of their political dissent. I learned much more about Hitler’s political victims during our time in Germany.

At the Topography of Terror Museum, you learn how systematically Hitler removed every person who spoke out against the National Socialist regime. It was not only the members of the Reichstag who lost their lives. Thousands were sent to concentration camps for taking a stand and speaking out against what they knew to be corrupt policies.

When we were in London, we saw a play called Taken at Midnight, starring Penelope Wilton (from Downton Abbey), that told the horrifying story of how Hans Litton, a celebrated lawyer who won a case against the S.A. (the Storm Troopers) by putting Hitler on the witness stand in a bold (and perhaps foolhardy) move that quickly labeled him as a Nazi enemy. He was later arrested, after Hitler became Chancellor of Germany, and placed in “protective custody” which ultimately resulted in his death in a Nazi concentration camp.

Every voice that spoke out against Hitler was silenced. In fact, many German Lutheran pastors who worked and preached against the regime were sent to concentration camps.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer was arrested in 1943 for his resistance work, imprisoned at both Buchenwald and Flossenbürg Concentration Camps, and eventually murdered just days before the camp was liberated. You can learn more about him through the amazing 2003 documentary: http://www.bonhoeffer.com/ Bonhoeffer.

Martin Niemöller, survived the war, but was also imprisoned by the Nazi’s from 1938-45 (at the Sachsenhausen and Dachau Concentration Camps we visited) for speaking and preaching against the National Socialist Party. One of his sermons was on display at the German History Museum, along with Hans Litton’s court robe. Words that Niemöller spoke in post-war lectures were quoted by guides at the two concentration camps we visited:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—Because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Visiting the concentration camp memorial sites was not easy. Though the two camps we visited were not “extermination camps” in the same way that Auschwitz was, the S.S. still killed tens of thousands through prisoner maltreatment and outright murder. Sachsenhausen, the nearest concentration camp to Berlin (and one of the first, intended as a model prison for all concentration camps), was a work camp, where the words on the gate, “work makes free,” were a lie of seismic proportion. Inmates were worked to death, seen as machinery more than as people. Interestingly, Sachsenhausen was the site of the famous counterfeiting operation, in which the Nazis worked round the clock to produce British and U.S. currency during the war. A recent film,  The Counterfeiters (Germany, 2007), will give you a sense of how camp life was for the elite group of prisoners involved in the operation. Elite as they were (because of their valuable skills that the Nazis needed), you will see that the counterfeiting prisoners were victims of the Nazi horrors too.

Learning the history of these camps, you can lose faith in humanity. Thankfully, we don’t ever have to lose faith in God.

During our stay, we worshipped at the American Church in Berlin, where we were warmly welcomed. After our visit to Sachsenhausen, our worship with fellow Christians was especially meaningful. Praying the Lord’s prayer had special significance when we realized that our German friends prayed for God’s “reich” (German for “kingdom”) to come. The words to the hymns that we sang in solidarity came alive in a whole new way, especially words like, “Let sin have no dominion here,” from the hymn Oh, That the Lord Would Guide My Ways, that we sang at the American Church in Berlin. Click the hymn title to see all of the words that spoke so powerfully to me.

We worshipped at the American Church in Berlin on more than one occasion because the congregation and pastor were so welcoming. It was fun to sing the night prayer setting with them as they were trying it for the very first time from their brand new cranberry-colored Evangelical Lutheran Hymnals! The congregation is a congregation that has formed and reformed . . . a community that had its roots in the American occupation of Berlin following WWII. Since American troops left the city following the fall of the wall in 1989, the congregation waned and now in on the move again, having recently purchased a vacant inner-city church building for 1€ (beautiful, but missing its original stained glass windows as they—like most stained glass in Germany—were destroyed by the allied bombing during the war). How amazing to see the American church as the immigrant church needing support to thrive in a foreign land!

How wonderful to know that Christians around the globe are praying in unity for a new kingdom to come.

Berlin – A City of Transformation

I wasn’t excited about spending time in Berlin. I’d been in East and West Berlin in 1979 on a college choir tour and remembered only the bleakness of the eastern city and the brashness of the western one. It wasn’t a city I thought I’d ever need to visit again. Besides, we were pretty exhausted after our time in London (as this photo that Hunter took on the plane shows), and Berlin didn’t seem like it was going to be a place where we could catch our breath.

Berlin isn’t an easy city, by any stretch, but things have certainly changed in the last 30 years. Some of the old landmarks are still here to help you get oriented. The Brandenburg Gate (the grandest and sole-survivor of Berlin’s 14 city gates, erected in 1791), The Reichstag (Germany’s Parliament building), Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church (the bombed-out ruins left standing as a silent memorial to the destruction of WWII), and Check Point Charlie (the key border crossing between East and West Berlin) —though now it’s merely a tourist photo destination. But the wall, erected by the Soviets in 1961 to keep their citizens in East Germany (to stem the flood of talent that was leaving the country following the soviet occupation of East Berlin post-WWII) came down in 1989, and East Berlin has been a city in transformation ever since. Instead of being the place of depressing oppression and drabness I remembered, the city feels vibrant: it’s filled with life at all hours of the day. Of course, that may have been helped by the fact that prostitution is legal here, but it wasn’t just the working girls who were out at night. At midnight, people were walking dogs and biking as if it were midday.

 

The only remnants of the wall still standing are memorials or art canvases. The East Side Mauer (Wall) Gallery is the largest outdoor art gallery in the world!

Building walls, shorn up in repairs and restoration work following the bombing damage of WWII, have become art canvases too. Works by some of the world’s most famous graffiti/street artists can been seen here. Vacant buildings, left empty after the wall came down, have become places for squatting artists to set up studios. You can learn about one of the major “squats,” Kunsthaus Tacheles, here. Street art and street theatre grew up in the days after the wall, making Berlin a very happening place for artists, actors and musicians alike. It’s as if the falling of the wall and the ensuing chaos created fertile soil for creativity. That, and the fact that the rents are cheap, has drawn folks from all over the world to move to Berlin. The only problem is that as more and more tourists are drawn to the city, rents are going up, which isn’t good for the locals. There is, in fact, a pretty strong anti-tourist sentiment here for that very reason.

Each part of the city has its own feel. Museum Island, in the heart of the city and in the middle of the Spree River near Humboldt University, had a treasure trove of museums to explore . . . along with the bastion of Protestantism, The Berliner Dom (with statues of reformers keeping watch over worshippers). The bohemian feel of the Mitte area was delightful–in what used to be East Berlin—where art work adorned virtually every vacant building wall.

 

Prenzlauer Berg in the north had the youngest vibe . . . especially on Sunday, when Mauer Park filled with thousands of people for a wonderful weekly flea market and music fest in which performers set up throughout the park to entertain and families take picnic nearby.

In Kreutzberg, you could still feel the presence of the Turkish immigrants who have been there for years in shops and restaurants that tempted you with wonderful sights and smells. And in Central Berlin, there was the Tiergarten Park with its many memorials . . . and Potsdamer Platz (Plaza) giving testimony to the birth of the modern city in former West Berlin with the impressive Sony Center (where English language movies play near the German Film Museum).

It’s truly amazing how a city can open up when you have time to explore it! I especially liked the “Bear-lin” Bears!

Society and the Arts

We were fortunate to get tickets to observe Parliament in session. Ken’s cousin (an Iowa-born expatriate) had recently become a UK citizen, and he was happy to ask his MP (Member of Parliament) for tickets on our behalf.

After clearing security, we walked through a massive hall where folks like the Queen and Nelson Mandela have spoken (we knew this by reading the brass plaques on the floor) and then waited in a massive rotunda with incredible glimmering gold mosaic work (sorry—no photos were allowed in that area). Though our access into the building seemed pretty typical of what we’d experience in the states, once we reached the rotunda, things started to get very formal. In this area, the staff were wearing morning coats with tails. We, along with the other guests that day, were told to stand in silence for the procession with the golden mace as the Speaker made his way into the Parliament chamber. Then we were ushered into a gallery where bullet proof glass separated us from the Members of Parliament, but where we could see them clearly.

The glass reminded me of a brief conversation I had with a policeman while we were waiting outside. He told me there were no trash receptacles outside of Parliament so that no one could place bombs in them. Security all around the capitol city was enhanced. Now, instead of just the blue-clad Bobbies with their nightsticks, we were seeing police in bullet-proof clothing wielding machine guns at all of the top tourist sites (like this changing of the horse guard).

Parliament was just like we’ve seen it in the movies (like Amazing Grace . . . a must see movie about William Wilberforce the MP who fought for the abolition of slavery in England back in the early 17^th century—first campaigning for the Slave Trade Act in 1807 and then the Slavery Abolition Act in 1833—far earlier than we managed it in our country. By the way, William Wilberforce is buried in Westminster Abbey not far from where he fought his political battles in Parliament!). The be-robed Speaker sat on the dais presiding at the head of the table where the MPs debated—Government on one side, Opposition on the other, with the mace displayed beside them . . . just in case the debate got out of hand, I suppose! There are actually two stripes of red carpet on the floor, running the length of the gallery, to indicate that no discussion can take place in closer proximity than that . . . apparently to avoid sword fighting on the house floor (the lines are marked at a distance just greater than the length of two swords!).

Though the MPs were dressed in business attire, the Speaker was wearing a robe . . . and the three clerks sitting in front of the speaker were all wearing white wigs . . . which, along with their age, added quite a bit of pomp to the proceedings, which were very lively. Though everyone seemed to be called “right honorable sir” or “honorable lady,” there was quite a bit of verbal sparring in the session we observed.

The morning started with a session of Oral Questions with the Minister of Culture, Media and Sport and then the Minister of Women and Equalities, following opening prayers, which we were not allowed to observe. It was fun for us to listen in while the MPs discussed topics like arts education in school, funding for film festivals and location film-making, resale of sporting tickets, and broad-band internet access (a topic of hot contention . . . as many districts don’t seem to have high-speed access available to enough of their constituents. Patricia Arquette’s Oscar speech got lifted up when the topic of equal pay for women was being discussed . . . and there was a gesture of appreciation to all of the Oscar nominees and winners from the UK . . . quite fun for our arts-oriented family!

The arts truly do matter, and it was wonderful to see them being discussed in Parliament. Art really does help us reflect on life. The many plays we saw in London spurred good conversations on a variety of topics, including autism, homosexuality, class, political oppression, friendship and love.

The plays that I would most recommend were The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night (based on the book of the same title), about a young man with autism and the incredible stress that it put on his family, and Shakespeare in Love, which brought all of our learning about Shakespeare from Stratford and our Globe Theatre tour into amazing focus, showing us what the life of the theatre was like back in his day.

One of our biggest delights in being in this city of arts was how often we were reminded of what a wonderful arts community we live in at home. When we saw the marquee for Lion King, we were reminded that it had premiered in Minnesota . . . years ago! The same was true for Scottsboro Boys—we saw the Guthrie premier a few years back. Speaking of the Guthrie . . . that’s also where we’ve seen Mark Rylance in several productions. He was the first artistic director of the Globe Theatre in London (the theatre reconstructed as a replica of the Globe Theatre in which Shakespeare’s plays were originally performed). And, we even noticed that Horst, founder of the Aveda brand, and former neighbor north of us in Wisconsin before his recent death, had a photo exhibit at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.

Count your blessings. We live in an area with amazing arts. How nice to be reminded of that while we journeying so far from home!

The City is Calling

The architecture of London is simply amazing.

You have the skyscrapers of the Docklands business district in the east and the iconic structure of Parliament at the West end (with the tower that holds Big Ben) framing an assortment of buildings that span more than 1000 years. The Westminster Abbey has its roots back in the 11^th century. There are still Tudor lathe and plaster structures dating from Shakespeare’s day—though they are few and far between, because the fire of 1616 wiped most of those structures out for good. There are lots of Georgian structures—from that 17^th century reconstruction. And then there are the inspiring modern structures–The London Eye, The Gherkin, and the Shard—names that make perfect sense once you see them.

 

The Museum of London does a wonderful job of tracing London’s roots back through the ages . . . and though it’s not on the A-list of museums to visit, it’s really helpful in understanding the evolution of the city (and it’s a wonderful museum with exceptional guides).

The British Museum does the same thing with world history—its collections are so vast that we probably clocked a few miles during our “Around the World Tour.” It would probably take as long to fully explore the collection as it would take for an around the world trip. It’s amazing what can be revealed about a culture from its surviving artwork. We saw sculpture from 12^th century Nigeria that was as detailed and precious as the work of Michelangelo in 15^th century Italy. But it was a stone carving far older than those that really took my breath away. The human headed winged bulls—taken from an Ancient Assyrian city gate helped me see the power of that ancient empire that that figured so powerfully in Ancient Israel’s history. Wish I had more time to explore here.

Where I did spend a lot of time exploring was Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral. Both Church of England . . . but more museum than parish these days. The fees to enter (other than for many of the daily worship experiences) is staggering–£20 ($32 U.S.) at Westminster and £17 at St. Paul’s. Of course, once you enter, you realize that the upkeep on these amazing structures is probably also staggering . . . so what better way to bring in revenue than to ask the tourists to support ongoing maintenance. It’s funny to think of churches as museums, but that is really what they are. Especially Westminster Abbey—where the history of kings and queens is told in marble tombs.

There are over 3500 people buried in the Abbey, beginning with /Edward the Confessor who was the Abbey’s founding king. The Coronation Throne, which is made of wood, is on display in one of the chapels. But these days, most of the chapels are so filled with tombs and monuments, that there’s not much room for people. In one chapel, Elizabeth the 1^st is buried with her sister Mary . . . and in another chapel not far away, Mary Queen of Scots (beheaded for treason during Elizabeth’s reign) is buried in a more elaborate tomb built by her son James the 1^st of England (6^th of Scotland) after he ascended to the throne following the death of the childless Queen Elizabeth. What goes around comes around, I guess!

There is so much to see that I’d highly recommend anyone visiting take a guided tour. The £5 additional cost is well worth it. As is a stop at the Cellarium Café where I enjoyed a steaming bowl of pumpkin curry soup along with a lovely pot of tea.

I learned a lot of interesting tidbits on my tour . . . first, the beautiful Irish crystal chandeliers (each 10 feet high, though they’re still dwarfed by the 10 story expanse of the cathedral) were donated by the Guinness family! There are church mice carved into the standing candlestick bases on the altar platform! Coronations for English kings have been happening here since 1066 (though you’ll have to go to the Tower of London to see the incredible finery that is used during those coronation worship services). Did you know, the first English king was actually crowned in Bath?!?

Vergers are the lay people who stage manage all worship services at the abbey—and there are lots of them. They also serve as tour guides. Our verger/guide had participated in the funeral service for the queen mum back in 2011 and the recent royal wedding. You can tell that the vergers are all business when worship is about to begin. They guide every movement of the worshippers as well as the priests.

As I sat in the splendor of the cathedral during evening prayer I mused about what it must be like to pastor at a church that had different worshippers for every service . . . a church that was truly more royal officiant and museum than congregation (our verger guide told us that Westminster was a “royal peculiar,” answering not to a bishop, but directly to the queen). As I listened to the beautiful sung Psalm of the choir, I noticed an inscription over the altar that served as a reminder that the kingdom of England would always be beholden to a greater kingdom: “The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ.”

On the lectern were inscribed the words, “Attempt great things for God.” And, even in these circumstances, that is certainly possible as people from every nation flock to see the wonders of this ancient place of worship. Who would have ever imagined the potential for ministry to hundreds of thousands of tourists in a place like this?

Sunday, we worshipped at St. Martin in the Fields (though the fields are long gone and Trafalgar Square is at its front door, the name hasn’t changed). It was far different in feel from Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s. It has a world-renowned music ministry (often broadcast by BBC) and a powerful ministry to immigrants and homeless in the area. Each week, they hold worship services in both Mandarin and Cantonese—ministering to the Chinese in London. During our worship service, we heard drumming outside the walls of the church as a Chinese New Year’s celebration was underway, along with loud snoring from the pews behind us where homeless men were sleeping, safe from the cold outside. What a change from our Sunday worship the week before in Shakespeare’s Holy Trinity Church in Stratford upon Avon where the preacher had fight to be heard over the cooing of pigeons in the rafters!

Another church we visited, but didn’t worship was a different St. Paul’s, at Covent Garden, a parish that had a mission of bringing together “faith and theatre for the enrichment of both.” In this “actors’ church” they pray each day of the week for different people involved in the performing arts: actors, company managers, cleaners, electricians, puppeteers, directors, musicians, and writers. What a remarkable ministry in a city with more theatres than any other city in the world. This church is filled with memorials to actors, including Charlie Chaplain, Vivien Leigh, Noel Coward and Boris Karloff. It was fun for us to learn that Dame Judi Dench is a patron of the congregation. We saw her at the premiere of The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel at Leicester Square just a few days ago!

Thinking about the churches of London and their various ministries is stirring in me a longing for our congregation at Redeemer to be attentive to the places where God is calling us into ministry. What opportunities are right at our doors? How might we answer God’s calling to serve those that God is bringing into our midst?

London: Exhilarating and Exhausting

It’s hard to believe that we’ve been in London more than a week and I haven’t found the time to post. Sorry about that. All is well. We’ve just been running non-stop to museums and tours and plays. My legs are weary with the miles we put on each day. We wake up to the sound of jack-hammers and traffic and fall into bed exhausted after the curtain drops on another incredible theatrical production.

Each day begins with a plan (there is so much to do, you have to choose). Then, the real questions start:  “Should we take the RV1, the 15, or the 23?” Which bus should we take? The underground Tube is more efficient, but the busses allow you to see where you’re going, and there’s nothing like scoring a seat on the top of a double-decker bus . . . especially the front one. Seeing sights like the London Eye, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Trafalgar Square, St. Paul’s Cathedral, the Tower of London, the brilliant theatre marquees and the many beautiful bridges over the Thames is one of the biggest excitements of being in the big city for me.

Public transportation is amazing here—with the busses, the tube, and the ever-present black cabs of London, waiting to take you anywhere at the wave of a hand. The energy level here is palpably different than energy anywhere else I’ve ever been. People move faster here. The pace is breathless as people practically run up and down the dizzying flights of steps in the underground stations and come pouring out the doors as soon as trains arrive. You feel like everyone except you knows exactly where they’re going . . . and they should have been there five minutes ago.

That happened to us last night. We had 7:30 tickets to a play (Shakespeare in Love . . . more about that later) and thought we had plenty of time to get there. But we realized soon that we shouldn’t have had that after dinner espresso! We didn’t have nearly the time we needed. We managed to score the front seats on the top level of a number 11 bus . . . but it barely pulled away from the curb before traffic ground to a halt. We inched forward—literally only inches—and stops. Traffic was so backed up, we were terrified we wouldn’t make it in time for the opening curtain. We hopped off the bus and tore down the street. We were moving at breakneck speed, passing bus after bus and taxi after taxi . . . but the crowd around us was moving at the same speed (and picking up mass as more and more people unloaded from buses like we did and hit the streets).

When we arrived at the theatre, the ushers practically lifted the tickets out of our hands and practically carried us to our seats, where we dropped, exhausted and sweaty, just as the lights came up on the stage. Another experience that let us know we were truly in the big city.

I have so much more I want to share . . . but we’ve got a bus to catch!

Leaving Stratford

  

It’s hard to leave a place that is filled with beautifully restored Tudor homes . . . and echoes of Shakespeare at every turn (every tea room and street evokes characters from his life or his works—Quickly’s, Hathaways . . .). It’s been lovely to enjoy a quieter season here even though it’s been a bit damp and chilly.

Our last morning, we downed another English breakfast at our B&B—a lovely place called Ambleside Guest House—and headed to eight o’clock church at Holy Trinity. In the quiet before worship, we marveled at being able to worship in the same church where Shakespeare would undoubtedly have worshipped. Here’s a photo of what’s believed to have been his personal copy of the Book of Common Prayer.

The early worship was a quiet and thinly attended service with no music at all . . . but the quiet made the words of scripture and the words of the prayers all the more poignant. The assisting minister addressed the prayers of the people to the God “who accomplishes his good purposes through the people who love him.” How wonderful to have our very prayers commission us for God’s service!

One interesting thing I learned visiting Holy Trinity again was that the King James Bible was produced in the year 1611—the year in which Will Shakespeare would have been 46 years old. Interestingly, if you look at Psalm 46 in the King James Bible, you will see that the 46^th word of the Psalm is shake and the 46^th word counting backwards from the end of the Psalm is spear! Is it coincidence? Or, do you think that Shakespeare may have had a friend who worked on the translation? It’s fun to speculate that Shakespeare himself may have had a little influence, but as he wasn’t a university educated man, it’s not likely that he would have been part of the extensive team that worked to bring the scriptures to life in the English language.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed,

and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;

Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled,

though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah.

There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God,

the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High.

God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved:

God shall help her, and that right early.

The heathen raged, the kingdoms were moved:

he uttered his voice, the earth melted.

The LORD of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah.

Come, behold the works of the LORD,

what desolations he hath made in the earth.

He maketh wars to cease unto the end of the earth;

he breaketh the bow, and cutteth the spear in sunder;

he burneth the chariot in the fire.

Be still, and know that I am God:

I will be exalted among the heathen,

I will be exalted in the earth.

The LORD of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah.

Even if it is only a wonderful coincidence, it still makes me feel good to find Shakespeare’s name embedded in the Psalm that was one of Martin Luther’s favorites (and the basis for his famous hymn, A Mighty Fortress is Our God).

Happy Valentine’s Day from the Sweet Swan of Avon

Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of his house, it would be utterly scorned. Song of Solomon 8:7

These words of Solomon’s proved true in another kingdom . . . a kingdom of Shakespeare’s creating . . . in Love’s Labour’s Lost. In a breathtaking production, set in 1914 England*, the Royal Shakespeare Company tells the story of the King of Navarre and his faithful friends (Berowne, Dumaine, and Longaville) and how they swear off women for three years in order to focus on their studies. But as soon as the men pledge their oaths of abstinence to one another, the Princess of France and her ladies arrive, forcing the four men to question the oaths they’ve just made.

Cupid’s arrows slay them, one by one, and each, in turn, struggles as he falls for the woman and away from his vow to his friends. Here is what Berowne says as he wrestles with his new feelings of love for Rosaline:

And I to sigh for her! to watch for her! To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague That Cupid will impose for my neglect Of his almighty dreadful little might. Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue and groan: Some men must love my lady and some Joan.

In the end, loves wins out, proving that love has a power beyond words to move us in new directions. As the men, in a hysterical rooftop scene discover that each has broken his vow, they pledge to woo the women together. Here is Berowne’s testimony to love that gives them courage:

But love, first learned in a lady’s eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain; But, with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices. It adds a precious seeing to the eye; A lover’s eyes will gaze an eagle blind; A lover’s ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopp’d: Love’s feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockl’d snails; Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste: For valour, is not Love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair: And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper’d with Love’s sighs; O, then his lines would ravish savage ears And plant in tyrants mild humility.

Love has a power beyond our understanding. That’s what happened with the priest Valentine in the third century. He was so moved by the love of young people that he continued to marry them in defiance of the Emperor Claudius’ decree against marriage (Claudius wanted to keep men single so they’d be unencumbered by wives and children and more willing to be conscripted into his army). For that, he lost his life . . . on February 14, 269. But in his martyrdom, he has won sweet recognition of the power of love to outlast the kingdoms of men.

Celebrate that power of love today as you celebrate Valentine’s Day . . . and look for all of the ways that love has brought delight into your life (even when you weren’t looking for it).

*For those of you who are avid Downton Abbey fans, you would have loved the production (and may be able to see it on video—it was aired at cinemas all over the world just a few days ago). The set design was based on Charelcote Park, an estate just outside of Stratford that would very much remind you of the Downton Abby!

Entertainment in the Cotswolds

You might think that the main reason that people come to the Cotswolds of England every year is to see some of the finest theatre in the English speaking world performed at the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford.  But did you know that another form of entertainment, that dates back to Shakespeare’s heyday also draws thousands of visitors each and every year?

The Cotswold Olimpicks, organized by Robert Dover in 1612 approved by King James himself ” for delighting the people with public spectacles of all honest games, and exercise of arms” continue to this day on Dover’s Hill, a natural amphitheatre outside of Chipping Campden in Gloucestershire.  It’s a community event of epic proportion, with some of the zaniest games that have been around for centuries.  Sledge hammer throwing, wheel barrow races and shin-kicking contests . . . now that’s entertainment!!

Since I was a little to early to observe the games (they typically take place in the May-June timeframe), I took in a different kind of entertainment entirely – a piano concert by Andrew Henderson of Charles Hubert Hastings Parry music at Holy Trinity (the church where Shakespeare was baptized and buried).  Hearing the music played in such an ancient church was truly inspiring.  Since I can’t share the concert with you, I hope you will enjoy this view of the church from the bank of the Avon River.