Hotbed of Reformation

After traveling by high speed train on Sunday, we arrived in Geneva, Switzerland, considered by many to be the hotbed for the Reformation in the 16th century. At that time Geneva was a city state, and its ruling body went against the Roman church and declared Geneva a safe haven for John Calvin and reformers like him. Calvin had been a priest, but, like Martin Luther, believed the church needed to reform. He was not allowed to do this from within the Roman church, and would have been tried by the church for heresy had he not had a safe haven where his theology and thought could evolve. Geneva became a safe place where reform-minded ministers came to learn and express their views. John Knox came here to escape persecution in Scotland. Two of the four reformers pictured together at the Reformation Wall near the old city of Geneva are John Calvin and John Knox (see picture). Knox went back to Scotland where his work led to the formation of the Presbyterian Church which was the church out of which Disciples of Christ came.
We visited St. Peter’s Church today in the old city. It is built on a site where worship has taken place for at least 2100 years. It is high on a hill overlooking Lake Geneva. Allobrogians apparently buried a famous tribal chief on the site around 100 B.C.E. Digs under the present church have found evidence of wine and food near an ancient tomb indicating it was a place where people came to worship and their worship included meals. A Roman temple was built over the ancient tomb indicating some Romans found this site sacred. One of the interesting artifacts I saw was a twelve sided silver dice containing the signs of the Zodiac. By the fourth century there was a church here where Christians worshiped. Several baptismal pools have been unearthed showing an elaborate system of how water was piped in, indicating a large pool where the candidate would kneel in the water to be baptized (see photo).
Parts of the present church were constructed in the 11th and 12th centuries. It was a Catholic Church with beautiful stained glass and frescos, but the reformers stripped the church of anything lavish (or beautiful). Not even organ music was allowed until the end of the 18th century.
Tomorrow we go to Bern where my grandfather John Miller was born. We will move on to a small town called Thun where we will spend three days with my cousin Esther.

Speaking the language

Susan and I are staying in a part of Paris not known for tourism. As a result we are having to make the best of our limited French. Sue minored in French in college and can still read--a little. I look for words that have a root I might understand. And I've gotten very good at pointing. The people we have encountered have been more than gracious. For example, I stopped by a poissonnerie stand to buy a piece of salmon yesterday. Luckily there was a piece just the size I wanted so I pointed to it. The fish monger smiled and picked up the fish with a sheet of counter paper. Then he asked me a question. I didn't have a clue what he was asking. He spoke no English. He disappeared behind the counter speaking loudly. I first thought he was probably cursing the dumb American. But then I realized he wanted me to come behind the counter. There he took a knife and laid it against the skin side of the salmon. He was asking if I wanted him to take the skin off. "Oui monsieur."
Not understanding can be more troublesome in a world where you have need but can't understand how to have that need met.
We extended our stay in Paris by a couple of days because of a national strike on Thursday. We didn't know about the strike when we went to the train station to get tickets. The only thing we could learn was that no tickets were being sold for the following day. That was the day we were suppose to travel to Taize. Being unclear about our ability to get to Taize, we made arrangements to stay where we were for two more days. We walked around mystified for half a day until someone told us about the strike. Then it made sense.
In a country where you don't speak the language you begin to look for people you think may know English. I've discovered people who are of Indian descent and young people are more likely to speak some English.
So, let's think a moment about people in the world who don't understand the message of Christ or have an understanding that leaves them full of guilt,shame or anger. How can we let them know there is a place at the table for them? Seems the fish monger had the best solution. When he saw I didn't understand he showed me what he meant. Those who follow Christ can't expect people to just come in and find their place when they don't understand who Christ is or what the church is about. Neither can those who see God as vengeful, wrath-filled God find comfort or nurture at the table. But if those who have come to recognize Jesus as a friend who shows us God's great love can show others, we'll have to enlarge the table to make room for the many who will come to feast on the good news of love and hope and peace.

Feeding the Children

There appears little artwork from the middle ages or the reformation in Europe that deals with communion or communal meals. But one theme is frequent in the art I've seen, the presentation of Mary and her child Jesus. Several paintings in the Louvre show an infant Jesus being fed at the breast of Mary. Maybe this is one of the ways people living in a harsh time had to celebrate the joy of birth and new life. Or maybe it was a way of remembering that the child is nurtured by God through the care and devotion of parents.
Paris is the place to come if you want to see children. It has the highest birthrate of any city in Europe, 2.0. Everywhere one looks they see baby carriages and young children. At places like Luxembourg Gardens and the park near the Eiffel tower children are busy playing under the watchful eye of a parent or nanny. This is a joyous scene, but deeper reflection brings sadness. Church attendance and participation are very low in this city. Though these children seem to get a good diet of food, fresh air, an education and recreation, they are not being nurtured in the communal life of the church. They aren't being fed a regular diet that would allow them to develop a sense of God in their world and their place in God's world.
Some would see this lack of commitment to the church on the part of new generations of parents as a result of the past sins of the church. Maybe so! But where will these young children turn when they grow up and face a world full of challenges? What songs and stories will nurture them and give them courage? What will call the to sacrifice and greatness? What will convince them that beyond life's greatest disappointments there is a resurrection, a renewal, a new life?
I fear those who want to provide the very best for their children are neglecting the holy habits and routines most important for a happy and successful life.

Looking for a meal

Here we are in Paris and I found myself looking for a meal. Now there's no shortage of food. It may be a little difficult figuring out what is being ordered from a French menu when the waiter speaks no English. But I've found one sure method that works every time if you're looking for something good to eat. Go into one of the many pastry shops, point to anything and hold up one finger. Soon you'll be in confectionary heaven.
But let's get back to my Sabbatical theme and my search for a meal. I spent part of Monday going through 12th-16th century paintings at the Louvre museum looking for religious art that might depict the Lord's Supper. The only painting I found was a 16th century depiction of a Mass. It was very clear from the painting what was important in that meal. All eyes were glued on the bread as it was being elevated. They were watching for the moment when the bread would become the flesh of Jesus. The reason they came to Mass was not to share the meal. Only the priest was likely to actually eat the bread unless it was Christmas or Easter. And the church members would never drink from the cup. The Lord's Supper had become a meal of mystery, not a meal of communion. When the reformation began one of the first things that happened was to do away with this adoration of the bread and cup and to offer both to those who came and to make the meal one of communion with God. Later in the reformation Disciples would also emphasize how the meal acted as a way to share communion with each other.
The religious art from the 12th-16th century that I viewed yesterday had essentially two themes,birth and death. There were so many depictions of Mary and the infant Jesus. And there were depictions of Jesus' suffering and death. There were some pictures of the final judgment, but those scenes were filled with tormented souls being escorted to hell. Fear was and continues to be a dominant theme in religious life. In the middle ages, if the plague didn't kill you some war would probably do you in. I'd like to say we've changed. In the past century we've gained a better handle on disease. But we can't seem to do much better with killing one another. As I walked through Pere Lacheise Cemetery yesterday I was struck by the agony depicted in monuments erected in memory of people who had lost their lives in concentration camps. There was a monument for each concentration camp. I also walked past the monument erected at the grave of Oscar Wilde, an author from Ireland and England in the late 19th and early 20th century who was imprisoned for two years in London because of a homosexual relationship with a British Lord.
Could it be that when our religion produces fear in us it also encourages fear of others and allows us to strike out at those who are different from us with a holy, self-rightous zeal.
What difference might be made if we shared a meal. Oh, I'm not thinking that would remove our fear. But in the company of others, in the company of those different from ourselves, in the company of a God who was recognized as loving, would an edge be taken off our fear? Would destructive energy be turned to better uses?

Goodbye to Iona; Hello Paris

We arrived at an apartment we are renting in Paris on Saturday. From Iona to here required us to take two ferries, three buses, two planes, a train and the subway. No wonder we slept for 11 hours.
The week on Iona was a rich experience. As we were leaving one of the college students who is volunteering this summer as staff at Iona slipped Sue a note. Among other things it said, "What a beautiful couple you are. I so enjoyed meeting each of you. As I sat at the Thursday table service it entered my mind that if I ever get married I would have to be as lovely a pair as the two of you."
She went on to say how much she enjoyed cutting up vegetables with me and then she said of Sue, "I am thankful no one sat in the seat next to us that evening. Sharing dinner with you was a time I really felt God's presence."
Our experience on Iona taught how important food is in bringing people together. Whether it is preparing the meal together or eating at the same table the food becomes a way for community to form as we become acquainted and share parts of our lives with one another. Jesus said, "When you do this, remember I'm am in your midst."
On Thursday our worship was an Agape feast. We had a large table set up in the Abbey church. We didn't share bread and wine but nuts and fruit. It was a joyful service filled with thanksgiving. Where people gather to eat, where they break their lives open and share them with one another, it is Christ's feast and God is present.
The pictures include the agape table before the service, Sue singing with the choir on talent night and a final glance at the Abby as we head to the ferry.

A Day in the Life of an Iona Pilgrim

Our day begins at 7:45. I'm on the morning work detail. I help set up for breakfast which is always cereal, porridge,toast, tea or coffee. After breakfast we go to morning prayers at the Abbey church. Then I return to the kitchen where I help chop vegetables for our lunch and dinner. Sue goes to clean baseboards and mirrors in the bathrooms. We have lunch at 1 and dinner at 6. Most of the food is vegetarian, with a little meat throne in for the evening meal. Last night it was nips/tatties/hogus.
Each day there are programs you can take part in or there is time to read or walk and enjoy the island. Yesterday Susan and I went on a three mile pilgrimage across the island to learn more about the ancient places. There is a worship service each evening at 9 p.m. Last night's service emphasized healing. I thought about several from our church who are dealing with challenges and remembered them in prayer.
Two things have made this a memorable week, the experience of living in community with other people and the sheer beauty of this place. Living so close to others makes one aware of many of their own weaknesses. We sometimes see things in others that are disturbing only to realize they are things that exist within our own life. Hopefully this experience teaches the importance of grace given to others and to self. And hopefully it provides a way to see things in one's life that may need some adjustment.
This little Island is a beautiful place. From almost any vantage point you can see the sound or the ocean. There are often sailboats either docked in the bay or sailing slowly past. The little village has homes that date back to the beginning of the 19th century. There are several gardens in the back yards of houses and hotels. These gardens often take the place of grass, so there is little mowing. The gardens are filled with flowers, herbs and some vegetables. The growing season isn't long enough to support anything but what we might grow in the spring. For example, their strawberry crop is still a couple or three weeks away.
The rock walls, sheep, and ancient buildings also add to the beauty and mystery of this place. They invite reflection and prayer. They encourage the enjoyment of life as it is given day by day.
We have a couple more days here, then will leave Friday to make our way to Paris.

We've been almost too busy to post the last few days and it has been difficult finding a place with internet. We spent Thursday and Friday in the Highlands. Sue discovered some new things about her family clan, the Campbells. Seems back in the 1500's they killed about two hundred McDonalds after that clan had welcomed them into their castle and partied with them for 12 days. Some of the highlanders still hold a grudge against the Campbells it seems.
After a 10 hour trip that included a bus ride, a ferry ride, another bus ride and a ferry ride, we ended up in Iona last evening. This 2 mile long ISLAND is a special place. We will be with 30-40 people this week from other parts of the world forming community through worship, work and sharing meals together. I served as a deacon this morning for worship. There were about 150 present. I thought of how many people had settled down in this 12th century church to be reminded of God's presence and love through bread and wine. In the face of all who had sat in that place before me I felt small but realized all are still kept in God's hand.
This Island was settled in the 6th century by Columba and his missionary friends. They started a monastery and from here launched a mission to convert Scotland and northern England.
Sunday afternoon I played golf on a real Scotish golf course. The course was in the middle of a sheep and cow pasture. One of the rules allows a ball to be dropped free if it lands in fresh cow or sheep dung. I played with a group of young people who are volunteering at Iona. There were seven countries represented in the ten of us who played. Most of them were just learning the game, but we had a joyful time.
For the rest of the week we will be worshiping twice a day, sharing meals and doing some work together. I'm talking to lots of people about their practice of communion.
We miss all, but feel we are learning so much. Blessings.

St Andrews and Edinburgh

Yesterday we spent the day at St Andrews. I know what you’re thinking. Olde Course, the place where golf began, the British Open. I’ll have to admit an interest in seeing this holy place of golf. It was a thrill watching folks tee off in front of the Ancient and Royal club. Even though there was a light rain and a cold wind was blowing stiffly off the North Sea, it was a thrill to think of all the golfing greats who’d walked down that course and then finished up on the 18th. But St Andrews has much more to offer than ancient stories of golf.
In 1546 George Wishart, a reform preacher, was taken into the custody of the cardinal at St Andrews. He was burned at the stake. Shortly after, Wishart’s friends broke into the castle and murdered the cardinal. They occupied the castle and started the first reformation congregation in Scotland. A young preacher by the name of John Knox came to serve as chaplain for those at the castle. They hoped the English queen Elizabeth, a Protestant, would come to their rescue. Unfortunately the French got there first, Knox was captured and was forced to serve as a galley slave for two years. When he was released he went to the continent, met up with John Calvin in Geneva, and returned to Scotland to be the mouthpiece for the reformation a few years later.
I visited the ruins of the St Andrews cathedral. Knox returned to St Andrews, and from the Trinity Church incited mobs to go and tear down all the altars in the Cathedral and remove any paintings, statues and icons from the church.
Today I attended a morning communion service at St Giles church in Edinburgh where Knox was minister. There were only five of us including the minister. It was held in a side alcove of the sanctuary where, before Knox, the Catholic church would have had an altar. I thought I heard the ghost of John Knox ranting that the present minister of the church had built an altar in the church and as including communion at each service on Sunday and two mornings a week. Hopefully Knox has tasted that great feast in heaven and now understands the table of mercy is neither Catholic or Protestant, but a gift of grace and hospitality for all who come.
The pictures include Susan and me at the Olde course, the ruins of the St Andrews castle, and Dr. McMillan,pastor of St Giles whom I interviewed today.

Unfencing the Table

In the early 1800's a young man by the name of Alexander Campbell was studying at the school of religion at the University of Glasgow. Although he was a Scottish Presbyterian, he came to believe the Lord's Supper was a meal that should be shared with all believers. You see, at that time ministers gave person's tokens that verified they were worthy to take communion. That worthiness came by way of having made the right confession, the one that the church claimed was orthodox. When they prepared to have communion, which was only once every three months, the minister asked the elders to fence the table. They checked to make sure every person had
a token who came down front to sit at a long table to take communion. At one such service Campbell walked down the aisle, threw his token on the table and walked out. As you know he would go on to America where he would become the mouthpiece for the movement his father Thomas was beginning, a movement that placed the table at the heart of worship, removed the fence, and invited all to share the Lord's Supper. Discipes of Christ were given life through his work.
I went looking for that chapel where Campbell had his cleansing of the temple experience. I discovered the school of religion at the beginning of the 1800's wasn't located where the University of Glasgow is today, but was closer toward the town center. The chapel had been torn down, but the tower to the chapel was left standing and is now connected to an apartment building. That would be the picture on the bottom. The other picture is where Campbell would have attended classes.

Scotland at Last

We safely arrive Friday morning in Glasgow. Though a bit tired we toured Glasgow Cathedral. I was surprised to see all the marks on columns still very visible where the reformers, led by John Knox, removed altars, statues, paintings and anything else from the Cathedral in the mid 1500's that might be idolatrous. I fear many things of beauty were destroyed in this purge aimed at purifying the church.
After good nights rest at a great little hotel we have spent the day at Dean Castle Country Park. A group of churches, all Presbyterian, are part of a program called Priority for the Poor.They are churches located in poor communities sseking ways to serve the poor and stay alive as communities of faith. They got together for a picnic today and we were invited by our hoat Rev.Muriel Pearson (she is in the hat) who explained this good time as communion too. We also toured Dean's Castle built by the Boyd Clan in the 13th & 14th centuries. I got to try on some armour and good ear arms from medival times. It might make good vestments for a church in conflict.

One of the purposes of Sabbatical is to take a time away so one can better appreciate the time together. Maybe it is akin to a marriage where absence can make the heart grow fonder. I had to stop by the church for a few minutes yesterday and was surprised at how much I enjoyed seeing a number of people and being in my office. It is a good sign, that at the end of this time of being away I will come back with a deeper appreciation for the people with whom I serve and the place where my ministry finds its fulfillment.
I've received several cards and calls concerning my surgery last week. I appreciate them all and know that the prayers and thoughts have been a part of my healing. I've felt surrounded by the church. I'm doing very well. There is no pain, just some tenderness. I'm walking a lot each day and sleeping well at night. There will be a few adjustments to be made in my digestive system, but that is manageable.
We are leaving first thing in the morning for the biggest part of our Sabbatical travels. Hopefully most things will fall into place as they have been planned and the only surprises we have will be good ones.
There is often something in our nature that desires going away. Maybe it is a response to God's call. "The Lord had said to Abram, "Leave your country, your people and your father's household and go to the land I will show you" (Genesis 12: 1). Maybe there is an element of running away from responsibility, "But Jonah ran away from the Lord and headed for Tarshis" (Jonah 1:3). Maybe it is a desire to be independent, free from expectations,"The younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country" (Luke 15:13b). Sometimes a journey is directed and guided by God's Spirit, "The two of them, sent on their way by the Holy Spirit, went down to Seleucia and sailed from there to Cyprus. Whatever the reason for this Sabbatical journey, I hope the result for me and for the congregation will be that experienced by shepherds long ago who, after leaving their duties for a brief time to go to Bethlehem, "Returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen" (Luke 2:20a).