Talk About Facing Fear

At "little church with a big mission" we're planning for Advent and Christmas, and we've settled on the theme of "facing fear" by affirming that there are "Angels Among Us."  Just as the angels of the Christmas story (and throughout the bible's history) start out by saying "Do Not Be Afraid," we can affirm those messages. Thanks to the Worship Design Studio, we have all sorts of tools for making this message real. But still, it's not just individual fears we are concerned about--it's the big community ones. After the violence in the First Baptist Church of Southerland Springs Texas, people who gather in churches can't help but think about a real anti-fear message.
I'm surprised at the toll this fear is taking on my parishioners and community. Someone actually asked me "can you tell us how to think about this?" My gut tells me that people of faith ought to have more guts than this. I didn't answer, but I thought "Do you really mean that you don't know? Don't you know and trust the good news that 'God's got this?' Where is your faith?"  Maybe I shouldn't be so harsh.
I do think that doesn't bode well for us that trust in God has been supplanted by trust in guns. Colleagues at Christian Century put it this way:
"In the United States, we worship our guns like no other nation in the world, and some will say more guns are the answer. I do not believe this. We need to be direct in saying the god of guns is a false god. As much as I believe Jesus is among the grieving, I believe he is also pressing on his church to engage with the powers and principalities and say “No more!” Our culture privileges the powerful; often our church culture does the same. Yet we know Jesus proclaimed a preferential option for people who are marginalized and oppressed. We need the church to be a place where we talk about why mass shootings happen. We need to have those conversations and let God be part of them. We need to decide whether the church will be not just a voice speaking but a body acting to bring change in human priorities and understanding. If we have any power left as an institution, we must work together for good, in Jesus’s name."
Text for last week's sermon from Joshua was "MAKE YOUR STAND."
As for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.
Buck up people!

Shared fear has become more important than shared responsibilities. And that’s the essence of fascism.  HENRY GIROUX

Your past makes a difference in how you face the future

In the past few weeks our little congregation has been seeing congregants who reap the fruits of decisions they have been making, little-by-little, over the course of their long lives, whether for good or ill. Some have put off making financial plans for the future. Some have neglected caring for the relationships of their families and friends. Some have difficulty facing the fact that we all will die.
It really does make a difference, those ways we choose to live, that benefit the future. Lives and communities are built up or torn down, small action by small action. Kindnesses done, or hurts nursed? What decisions are we putting off because we don't want to think about them? What choices are we making because we think that we can avoid death? Facing our future lives requires courage. And God is the one who alone holds the future.
When we acknowledge our limits and face the future with courage, grace can and does abound. Peace be with you.

Replanting

Little Church with Big Mission suffered the loss of one of its iconic marks last week. The large tree that graced its front door collapsed. The weight of its canopy couldn't be sustained by the hollowed out trunk whose inside rot became apparent when it was exposed. As a result, the front door has a lot more sun, and we can see more clearly inside and out. No one was hurt and no property damage occurred, except for some of the azalea shrubbery and another plantings in the area. The large machinery necessary to cut up and haul away the huge branches couldn't help but trample the ground. Some parishioners are mourning the fact that we couldn't harvest the wood for other uses. We Presbyterians are a frugal bunch and don't like to see anything go to waste. It's our Scot heritage.
Now we have to face our loss and look to what opportunities are in front of us. The large empty trunk is now a focal point of the circular drive garden. It's beautiful in its own way. What is God inviting us to see here now? A huge jagged edge flower pot? A pedestal? What possibilities abound for re-planting in the spot? The space is now wide open, just like the future of the church.
Losses are often catalysts for re-imagination. I don't have any doubt that the Little Church gardeners will replant with gusto. They all care deeply about the environment, the beauty of the church settings and they are all amazingly good gardeners, in service to a Master Gardener--the heavenly one.
The message of the Cross is simple: what looks like a tragedy is not the end of the story. The resurrection of Jesus is God's message to the world that life triumphs over death.  It's our hope and life. Let's get busy replanting!

the tree prays

Rotting from the Inside Out

I don't know how long big tree has stood in front of the "little church with a big mission." It had grown huge, with a trunk diameter close to 5 or 6 feet. On the day I returned from Charlottesville VA, it collapsed. A quick acting elder arranged for the huge pile of debris to be cut up and removed. The fallen trunk exposed the open decaying center. It was obvious that the trunk had rotted on the inside and couldn't any longer hold the weight of branches. Over the past nine or ten years, large limbs had been trimmed to reduce the weight of the canopy and prevent them from falling on people or property. That proved too little too late. What prophet or pastor could overlook the spiritual metaphors! A hollowed out core of any organism cannot withstand violence.
In Charlottesville I met with pastors who had had their own moral core tested by the white supremicists and neo-nazi groups assembled in that town to instill fear. The clergy, clearly calling upon their moral cores (and corps!) of faith, stood up to the threats, but they were shaken. Confronting violence with peace and resilience was what they had trained for. Many didn't realize the toll it would take on them, including the tragedy of three deaths. The communities of faith in Charlottesville hold together so far, but the events of last weekend will not be easily forgotten, nor should they be.
Many in the church continue to struggle with the legacy of racism that we all inherit and that still benefits our European-descended churches. If we don't confront our own inner spiritual rot it's only a matter of time before the arc of justice bends to cut us down. Will we learn from the tree?

Speaking Up and Out

Two messages in my email today. One from a clergy group in my county, the other from the staff of my church's collective governance folks, both responding to the violence in our state, in Charlottesville. The whole incident has me dismayed, at the lack of leadership displayed by so many, maybe even by me. This is a call to all of us to speak up and speak out.  Good words are not hard to find. Here are some:

"The images of the violence in Charlottesville – physical as well as ideological – remind the Church that there is work that needs to be done.  The sin of racism is not new, nor does this pervasive form of idolatry exist solely outside the church.

 

As followers of the Christ, let us be clear where we stand.  We are all formed in the image of God.  The Confession of Belhar calls us to remember that we are to be ‘the salt of the earth and the light of the world’, therefore, as a Presbytery, let us be that beacon of light.  Encouraging one another to live into a ‘new obedience’ we urge our member churches in both word and deed to actively confront racism that exists in our pews, and our communities. " 

I'm proud to stand with the church of Jesus Christ on this one.

Newsfeed or Good News?

Facebook Prayer

I've given up Facebook. I started this Facebook fast at Lent, and haven't been back, except to see some of my son's posts on his own site about the business he's in--3D printing. Since most of my Lent time would have been away from internet connectivity anyway, I stopped visiting this social media site on the 1st of February. It's been a big revelation to me, how much of my time was spent in reading my "newsfeed"--the cumulative activities of all my 300+ Facebook 'friends.' It's a time I've recaptured for prayer, before bedtime and upon waking up.
Still I'm torn. Many of my clergy colleagues are habitual posters and I've missed seeing what they're up to. However, for me, it was too easy to substitute looking at their newsfeeds for personal contact, and to fool myself into thinking we had a real relationship. We didn't. It's a lot harder to invest in real people and takes a lot more time.
My sabbatical time gave me lots to think about the time involved in investing in real contact with real people. Just knowing about someone's activity is a poor substitute for a real relationship.
So it is with God. Sometimes I think that our bible study can be a substitute for a real relationship with God. It's the default position for us intellectual types that we read the bible like God's newsfeed--a kind of long description--so we don't really have to spend time with Godself. How odd! Back at work this week, I'm prioritizing contact with real people and the real God who doesn't want us to be lonely.  That's the Good Newsfeed I need for today.

Venice April 3&4

What an end to our cruise! Empires of the Mediterranean, indeed.

By the end of our two days in Venice, I am now understanding more about how the shape of ancient Western civilization has led to our own. This was a big picture learning for me. I have both a new appreciation for the Venetian empire and some new examples of civil religion run amok.
When I was first learning about the religion of Ancient Greece (and subsequently Rome) it was easy to dismiss the society as "pagan" i.e. unenlightened. But in the religion of the Venetian Empire which was Christian, I found a fascinting example: the Christian appropriation of ancient Greece's civil religion. It was as if the Venetians picked up the religion that Greece had formed and translated its symbols into Christian ones. The stories that Venice told about itself were clothed in the iconography of Christendom and served to justify their accumulation of wealth and power for over 1,000 years.
When I put together a presentation about this trip, I will use that thesis to tie it together.
The wealth of Venice is amazing. Even in its decrepit current state it is easy to imagine its former glory. Our boat tour of the grand canal took us by palace after palace, all built by the people who ran the interlocking structures of religion, government, and business. It was all the same thing. That accumulation of wealth and power was no accident, but a well-honed structure designed for stability and control. The unifying figure of the doge--elected for a lifetime by an incredibly complex process--was simultaneously the head of the church, the government, and the economy. An even more complex system of rules and protocols kept him from exploiting that concentration of power too much. In this way, the Venetians constructed a society that lasted from the 9th to the 19th centuries.
It was an amazing accomplishment. Yet, included within it, were the seeds of its own destruction, as with all empires. We who live within the succeeding empire of the Western world should take heed, lest we think our own empire can last forever.

In any case, Venice was an amazing place to experience. After checking into the hotel, we took the hotel water taxi to St. Mark's square and did some exploring on our own. I tried to find the shop where I remembered purchasing a set of crystal wine glasses over 40 years ago. There were many beautiful shops selling expensive glassware as well as lots of other luxury items, but I couldn't find the one I remembered. The square was mobbed with people, including lots of school groups again. We did a bit of shopping, and then ducked into St. Mark's cathedral. We did not have to pay to visit the main chancel, but did pay to see the reliquary, the area containing the most valued saints relics and gifts to the church from centuries of pilgrims who offered their prized objects to the doge's church--gold cups and plates, reliquaries containing parts of saints' bodies. The lateness of our start meant that we had to plan for a next day of sight seeing. Rol did a really smart thing and bought us a full day's worth of experiences for the next day: a gondola ride, a guided tour of St. Mark's and the Doges' Palace, and a guided boat ride along the Grand Canal.

The gondola ride, put us into a traffic jam of gondolas weaving in and out of narrow canal spaces between buildings. I even recorded some gondoliers' singing. Ours didn't sing, but he warned us to sit still and not move about the boat. He steered and pushed with his oar and sometimes his feet pushed off buildings on the side. Every building is on a water front on at least one side, and the most important buildings are along the Grand Canal. We met up with some folks we had seen on the cruise, and had some snacks and coffee before seeing St. Mark's again (with a guide, this time) and the Doges' Palace, now a museum. Both of these buildings and their contents told the story of the way the Venetian Empire was maintained with the aid of Christian symbolism. They were decorated with stories from the bible, but definitely built to impress. St. Mark's holds the purported body of Mark, the evangelist, stolen from Alexandria Egypt by Venetian merchants who brought it back to Venice to "protect" it from Muslim raiders in 832. It lies under the altar, where it has been protected ever since. Hence the whole church is the reliquary. It is decorated with stories to tell the Christian gospel, from the Hebrew scriptures and stories to the Gospels and the Book of Revelation.

In the Doges' Palace, we saw art collections and items to take your breath away. In one room, a whole collection of coins, coins minted by centuries of Venice's economy. But a small collection of coins seem to have come from 1st century Palestine.

One was a coin from the Roman empire, with Caesar's image on the front. I can imagine that a powerful nobleman from Venice had it in his collection, and used it to illustrate Jesus' answer to the religious authorities in Jerusalem in the Temple: "Should we pay taxes to Caesar or not?"
Jesus answered, "Whose image is on that coin?" The image on the coin says that it belongs to Caesar. The image on a human being is the image of God. So render unto Caesar that which belongs to Caesar and to God, what belongs to God. Other amazing sights: reconstructed apartments of the Emperor Franz Joseph and his wife, Elizabeth, the same "Sissi" who had constructed the resort home that we visited on Corfu; an 18th century library with bookshelves, precious volumes and a large globe; samples of all kinds of luxury goods from Venetian merchants from the 10th to the 19th centuries. The collection is so vast and so varied, that I can imagine centuries of museum curators' working to preserve the items and catalog them.

After our overwhelming walk through the Doges' Palace, we had one more amazing tour--a narrated ride along the Grand Canal, where more sights and displays demanded our attention. Writing about all the things we saw would take up more time than I have to describe. Suffice it to say that the cumulative wealth is still amazing. We strolled some more around the area of the secretive shipyards, where the Venetians protected their shipbuilding expertise by hiding it. The compound is a navy installation now.
The hotel that we'd been staying in is a converted pasta factory. It is on the Guidecca island, across from the main area of the city. The next day, we took another water taxi to the airport for our flight to London.  From there, I would be going on to Scotland while Rol returned home.
[Note: I'm finally posting this near the end of my sabbatical, April 24, on events that happened near the beginning of the month.]

Final Day, April 2 in Koper Slovenia

[Posting note: The ship has had very slow internet connections and so I am posting several days' worth of notes all at once.]
A very smooth ride last night brought us to our final port of call, the town of Koper in Slovenia, our third country of the six making up the former Yugoslavia. This is an amazing set of circumstances: who would have thought ten years ago that we might visit these countries and not be able to visit Turkey. This itinerary was supposed to have started in Istanbul. When we booked it nearly 18 months ago, we thought to start there, and were disappointed that Viking changed the route to start in Athens. But there are so many amazing sights to see wherever we go.
Koper is another port city, the only port in Slovenia which has an Adriatic coastline of only about 30km. The port is both for passengers and freight and the Viking Sky pulled up right next to the freight port.
Since this was our last day, we confined our excursion to a brief guided walk in town. As this was Sunday morning, it was a busy day on the waterfront with many people and families out taking advantage of the weekend sunshine.

Koper was once an island and walled by the Venetians, of course. It used to be called "Goat Island" and a person in a goat costume met the passengers on the dock. Because it is the northernmost of the south Slavic countries, Slovenia also has influences from Hungary and Austria. Triest, Italy, is right around the corner and the town of Koper speaks two official languages--Slovenian and Italian.
Our guide was a bit unsure of her English, and apologized for groping for a few of her words. She was charming, though, and also a native Slovenian. Someone asked about Melania Trump, whether people were proud of her. She answered "It depends on who you ask."  Good answer! She told us that she lived in the country nearby, with her husband and a rescue dog. They are renovating a house that is more than 200 years old and want to live close to nature and simply. She said that Slovenians like the outdoors and are fortunate to live in a county where within the same day you can go skiing and scuba diving.
She led us through the main square of town, with a bell tower on the church with bells cast in the 14th c. They were striking the hour as we arrived. Not many of the town shops were open, but several cafes expecting tourists were open. Our guide took us to a shop that specialized in sea salt and we partook freely of the samples of salted chocolate.
After leaving the rest of the group, Rol and I strolled around the old town, had some refreshments and admired the waterfront activity, including the cleanliness of the water. We watched all the families with children on their roller blades and scooters and bikes, and heard Italian being spoken. This waterfront on a sunny Sunday was clearly the place to be. This waterfront had a beach of sorts, but without sand, just stones. It was too cold for people to be in the water yet, but the shore was equipped with a swimming pier, changing rooms and playground equipment, and clean!
Since this was our last day aboard ship, we decided to take it easy in the afternoon, except for a tour of the ship's bridge. It was a techie's dream place. Our cabin has been right below the bridge on the port side and every once in a while we've been able to look up and wave from our balcony at some of the crew. Rol took advantage of a final rest on the balcony today.  On to Venice tomorrow!

2nd Day in Croatia, April 1, Zadar

The weather keeps holding. It's true that there are a million shades of blue in this part of the Adriatic. Our next port in Croatia took us further north on the Dalmatian coast. Yes, the dog breed was bred and named here. They were bred to attack Turkish horses for the defense of the area. Dalmatia may come from the Ilyrian word for shepherd. The area has poor soil for cultivation, but raising sheep is good. Zadar is another small port town of Venetian heritage, but also has Roman ties that we were able to see in ruins of a forum in the middle of town.
The town boasts a brand new port for cruise ships. Apparently lots of this part of the world is banking on the tourist industry to help the economy. The waterfront also sports a large art installation consisting of a huge disk of solar cells in the flat deck next to the water, and a "water organ" that plays tones made by the movement of the waves. It is the artistic work of Nicola Basich. Some of us were able to take off our shoes and put our feet in the Adriatic water. Very cold!
This morning we boarded a bus with a guide for a special excursion, to the island of Pag, famous for its cheese making. More about that later.
This part of the Adriatic coast is an archipelago. Croatia has 1,244 island, 68 of which are inhabited. We road the bus inland, through a quite rural area with mountains paralleling the coast, and then north for about 10km then crossing a short bridge to the island of Pag. Pag has a unique micro climate made from the strong winds that occur in the winter time. The winds of up to 90 mph come down from the mainland mountains and scour the vegetation. Nothing can grow very tall, but the dry climate produces aromatic herbs like sage and the wind deposits salt on the leaves. Sheep that eat this vegetation produce a milk that is perfect for a mild cheese, and the lamb meat is also a delicacy.
The island of Pag has 6,000 people and 30,000 sheep. It also has salt flats and a growing tourist trade.

An earthquake destroyed the town of "old Pag" in the 15th century, and a famous city planner "George of Dalmatia" (Juraj Dalmatinac) designed "new Pag" in the style of a Roman city with a nice easy grid plan.
Our bus driver was a wealth of information who talked the whole hour of our bus ride to Pag. She was obviously very proud of her country and noted some world-famous Croatians whenever she could (e.g. Nicola Tesla) She told us much about the origins of the Croatian people. Some think that they originated in Iran and moved with their herds of sheep to the Dalmatian coast before Romans came. Now Croatia is beginning to get a reputation as a "party destination" for tourism. Many young people with money are coming from all over the world to rent flotillas of yachts for ocean parties lasting weeks at a time. Driving onto Pag we saw the bleak landscape hat our tour guide had told us about--like a moonscape on the east side, with the vegetation changing as soon as we crossed the mid-island rise.
During a brief stroll around "new Pag" we noticed that it was a destination for a Saturday morning bicycling group, who stopped for coffee on the waterfront.

Our next destination was a famous cheese factory, a modern family-owned business, the Gligora family. The daughter-in-law of the owner met our bus and had us don hair nets, coats, and shoe covers before taking us into the factory. They run milk collection 6 months out of the year, usually 6 days a week. All of their milk is produced locally and 50% of it goes to producing their signature, small batch brand--Paski Sir--sold in Europe and internationally. The guide was obviously very proud of the high quality of their cheese and told us that it had one awards internationally, even in Wisconsin!
The tour of the factory ended in a beautiful tasting room, with wine, bread, olive oil, prosciutto, and several kinds of their cheese, beautifully displayed on plates for each of us. A lovely repast!

Several of our fellow guests in this group had some mobility problems, but Viking did a great job in caring for their needs in getting on and off the bus, and up and down an elevator.
On the ride back to Zadar, our driver took us by the new basketball stadium in town. Basketball is very popular, drawing as many fans as soccer in this town. A famous son of the city played in the US in Utah. He returned to Zadar as a converted Mormon and popularized basketball starting a Mormon community.
Back in town at Zadar we barely had time to visit the Romanesque round church, see the ruins of the old Roman forum and listen for a while to the sounds of the sea organ before returning to the ship.

Another day in the Middle Ages, March 31 in Dubrovnik, Croatia

Entering the harbor in Dubrovnik, Croatia, this morning was a beautiful view of a modern cross-harbor bridge, reminding me of the bridges we saw in The Netherlands. One end is supported by a fan of cables that look like a wing. The weather from the beginning has been absolutely stunning and this day was right in the pattern.
Another day, another medieval city. Our off-ship excursion was a brief one today, a bus ride to the old town, another UNESCO World Heritage Site, with spectacular walls and lots of opportunities for pictures and a thousand years of history that make for incredible stories. The cruise ship port is new, and a bit removed from the old port and old walled city. Apparently real estate prices have soared in the past five years. Croatia has joined the EU, but still hasn’t officially adopted the euro as its currency. The ship cruise director told us to expect to have to pay in kuna, but we found otherwise. Most of the merchants were accepting euros.
I’ve been staring at the maps of the area, and now have a much better sense of the geography involved, the religious history and the ethnic differences between the six new countries. Croatia is more than 90% Roman Catholic, unlike its neighbors. The Dominicans and the Jesuits both have monasteries and long history here. Dubrovnik also has a cathedral.

A brief bus ride to a hillside vantage point allowed us to take pictures from above the old walled city--more Venetian walls--before we entered the city through the old main gate. Patron saint Blaise images adorn the main entry. He is recognizeable because he holds an image of the walled city in his hands. Inside the walled city we strolled the widest avenue, past gargoyles and lovely shops.
I’m glad that our tour guide again today was not afraid to tell us about the recent history of war stemming from the breakup of Yugoslavia. I’ve wanted to know more about that, rather than have that be just a fog of troubling ideas about the Balkans. Our guide told us that she was a little girl during the war. She and her mother and sister fled to the countryside. Men were asked to stay and defend the city against the Serbs, which they did successfully. Holes in the walls from gunshots are being left unrepaired so that people can see the destruction. Now our guide is a young woman who also teaches dance to children at her own school, after guiding in the morning. She was clearly entrepreneurial person.
Aside from the buildings from the middle ages, the new tour attractions are the sites associated with Game of Thrones. We strolled past the large staircase where some of the characters lost their heads and we bought souvenirs at a shop along the "walk of shame" something that seems to be known by everyone. The tour companies are cashing in on that connection, some giving lessons in swordplay.
Despite the age of the buildings, the city has a modern feel and is very lively, with shops and cafes everywhere. This is the beginning of the summer season, and we could tell that the tourist attractions are gearing up for the trade. Everywhere we have been impressed by the friendliness of the people toward Americans and the cleanliness of the shoreline.

March 30 in Kotor, Montenegro

Today is the day we finally left Greece, in a long overnight sail from the island of Corfu to Kotor, Montenegro. We completely passed by Albania, even though we were told that we saw some of the Albanian mountains from Corfu.

The medieval town of Kotor is isolated at the end of two consecutive bays. I got up early to see the ship pass through the first narrow passage, then I slept for about 20 minutes and saw us pass through the second narrow passage, passing by two small islands that we would see later in the evening. Both islands had churches. The church of St. George was on one and Our Lady of the Rocks the other. This latter is a man-made island, where some sailors were said to have found an icon of the Virgin on a rock protruding from the bay. In subsequent years, townspeople along the bay dumped more and more rocks to make enough land for a small church. Even now there is an annual festival for people to dump more rocks on the island. The blue-domed church dedicated to the Virgin is a marker for ships entering the bay.
The geography is fascinating. Some people call it a fiord, like in Norway, but these deep canyons were not made by glaciers but by river beds. A rising sea flooded them, and even now the water is just brackish, not good for fishing but good for raising mussels. Mussel farming is a local industry and mussels are a local delicacy.
The small medieval town is a UNESCO world heritage site, contained within walls that not only encircle the city, but go up steeply into the surrounding mountains. We left the ship (the huge Viking Sky dominates the water front) and walked to the entrance of the old city with our guide. I was glad that she was eager to talk about the countries from the former Yugoslavia and learn a bit about its recent political history. When Yugoslavia was breaking apart in the 1990’s I was too preoccupied with our young family to pay very much attention. It seemed a part of the world that was mysterious and hopelessly complicated for me to spend too much time trying to figure out. For the past several days I’ve been staring at maps of the Adriatic and its eastern countries and I find myself wanting to know more. So now I have the motivation.
Montenegro is the newest of the independent states, just having broken from Serbia in 2006. They have applied to be part of the EU, but have not received final approval. While we were walking around someone from out group mentioned that the US Senate had just voted for Montenegro to join NATO. Even though Montenegro is not yet in the Eurozone yet, they use the EU currency as the legacy of having used the German Mark to help fight a nasty hyperinflation in the 90’s. When Germany switched to the euro, so did Montenegro. The six countries from the former Yugoslavia are now Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia/Hertzegovina, and Macedonia. Serbia still contains the semi-independent provinces of Kosovo and Vojvodina, according to our guide, but the situation is still complicated. Kosovo has declared its independence, but not all countries recognize it. The US does and has built a military base there.
Our guide was a very young and eager to express her opinion that the people of the Balkans should not be fighting any more. She wants everyone to get along and hopes that young people will not be drawn into the fights of previous generations. I would hope this along with her. Montenegro is too small a country with too few resources to have wars with its neighbors. Tourism is its main industry. Maybe the lure of the big cruise ships will help unite the economies of these Adriatic states.
We followed our guide through the main square to a Roman church where we caught our first glance of Roma (gypsy) person, begging on the steps to the church. The guide seemed distressed that she was there and then relieved when a policeman showed up to shoo her away. Inside the church dedicated to St. Tryphon, a 2^nd century Christian martyr originally from Turkey whose head is supposed to be located inside, we noticed people other than tourists visiting to pray. Our guide told us that 70% of Montenegro is Eastern Orthodox and 30% Catholic, but in this town the percentages are reversed. St. Tryphon is a saint shared by both traditions and on his saint day, the town can come together for his procession. Our guide also told us that the Orthodox church is split itself between Montenegran Orthodox and Serbian Orthodox—more complexity. She told us that the Orthodox church is corrupt and losing its hold on people.

The town of Kotor has been rocked by earthquakes, as many towns along the Adriatic have been. A particularly bad one in 1667 destroyed much of the old town, and left the two towers of the cathedral with uneven heights. Another earthquake in 1979 was similarly devastating. Both of those earthquakes happened on Easter Sunday, in a year when Easter was the same date in both the Catholic and Orthodox calendars. This year 2017 is another year when the Easter date is shared, and some superstitious folks are nervous.
Another interesting building in the old town is a former merchants’ palace, now turned into a maritime museum, celebrating Kotor’s heritage as a maritime trading center. Kotor was a trading town, part of the Venetian empire. We are quickly learning that this part of the Mediterranean is a fighting ground between the Islamic Ottomans, the Orthodox Byzantines, and the Catholic Venetians. and we need to understand that conflicted part of the middle ages in order to understand the buildings and countries as they are today. All have conquered and fought over the Adriatic coastline, and all have left their influence. The city walls in Kotor were built by the Venetians to fend off intruders. Artifacts in the museum include collections of swords and firearms. Some of the swords were captured Turkish swords. Kotor used to be known for its arms manufacturing, but not any more. Our guide told us that firearms are now strictly controlled. Maybe all the fighting has soured the population on guns. We noticed that Montenegrans are tall people. Our guide was very tall and told us that she was a notive. Rol knows of some NBA players from this country.
With some time to spare, Rol and I wandered the narrow, and NOT grid-like, streets. We could have easily gotten lost but for the pictograph map given us by the guide. I traced our route through the city so that we could find our way back. Some told us that even native Kotor people get lost in the old city. One of the walks we considered, but quickly determined that we weren’t going to do was the climb the walls of the city, up to the chapel of St. John high up the cliff. It might have given us some great views if could have tackled the 1,000 or more steps. Better to go back to the ship, and rest up for our excursion later that evening.

I mentioned the church on the rocks at the entrance to the harbor. That evening we took a boat out to the church to listen to a concert of music from two guitarists, locally famous. It was a beautiful short boat ride and the host met us with a glass of champagne to put us in the mood. The guitar duo played their own compositions. We could hear influences of eastern and western music. Rol bought their CD and subsequent presentations from this trip will no doubt include that music.

The Wake of Empire-March 29 on Corfu

A long overnight on the ship brought us through some easier waters to the far northwest corner of Greece and our last stop in that country, the island of Corfu. It was hard to get my bearings that morning, as we couldn't see the sunrise, and I didn't realize at first that we were on the east side of the island, in a harbor nearly surrounded by land. In the very distance we saw some snow covered mountains, which we learned later were in Albania.
The Greeks call the island Kerkyra from the nymph who was the daughter of the river-god Asopos . Posideon, the god of the sea fell in love with her and made love to her on the island, giving birth to the race of the Phaeacians. This was the island where the shipwrecked Odysseus was said to have been rescued by the princess of the Phaeacians, Nausikaa, who convinced her father to help Odysseus on his way back home to Ithaca. I'm so glad that I had recently read "The Odyssey" and remembered the reference. To this day the Kerkyrians are noted for their hospitality.

We began the day with an excursion to the Achilleion Museum, a palace built by the Empress Elizabeth of Austria, wife of Franz Joseph I, in 1891 as a summer refuge. She had a difficult life, despite being an empress, and apparently was an anorexic and prone to depression. But she was also very independent and a great lover of the Greeks. She named the place after Achilles, the hero of the Trojan War. The lovely house includes a private chapel where "Sissi" prayed to be relieved from her private demons, while being inspired by the fresco of the trial of Jesus, painted on the apse. After Elizabeth's death by assassination, her daughter sold the place to German Kaiser Wilhelm II, who also used it for summer getaways. It has been used as a hospital (during WWI), an EU summit meeting place, and a movie set ("For Your Eyes Only"). Elizabeth installed a sculpture of the dying Achilles in the beautiful garden. Franz Joseph, on the other hand, installed a huge bronze statue of a victorious Achilles. Nothing could further illustrate the different temperaments of these two owners.

Of course the site of the palace is the most salient characteristics. Views are spectacular. Spring flowers blooming everywhere. The countryside of the island is laid out before our eyes. Elizabeth's troubles must have been great indeed not to have been assuaged by such a location.

After another harrowing bus ride down the hill, with inches to spare on the turns between buildings, we were taken by our guide into the largest town of Corfu. Our tour guide narrated more about the island and what it's noted for: music, the game of cricket (from its British occupation days, 12 out of 15 cricket teams in Greece come from Corfu), late-harvest olives with high acid content, and a wine named after the most prominent wine making family Theotoki.  We drove past Corfu's one airport, where a stop light stops traffic so that planes can land on its one runway. The bus let us out on a great esplanade, near the waterfront and the old fortifications.

Walking across the large green space we noticed many children. Our guide told us it was a special outing day for schools. Once a month schools visit special sites around the island in the morning and then allow the children to run and play. And so they were. Their teachers were sitting in the shade having coffee.

 The next walking tour stop was a kind of "living history museum" occupying one of the old town mansions, decorated to recall a typical great 19th c. merchant family's life style. As we walked through each room the guide narrated a story of that family's life. Corfu's life at that time was controlled by the descendants of the great Venetian families who were invited to come defend Corfu from the Ottomans. They did and they stayed, taking many of the native Greeks as indentured servants when they couldn't repay the loans granted to local farmers. 
Our next walking tour stop was to the church housing the relics of a 3rd century Christian saint, in fact, his whole body. St. Spyridon was a bishop from the island of Cyprus who took part in the first council of Nicaea and was recognized for his cogent theological arguments, particularly the ones discrediting the heretical Arius. Since St. Spyrion's death in old age, his buried body has only been moved and reburied twice--once to Constantinople and again to Corfu, hence its remarkable degree of preservation and the certainty around its authenticity. In the catholic church where it now occupies a place of honor behind the altar, we saw many pious people kissing the silver casket (closed). He is the patron saint of Corfu.
Several of our guides over the past two days have remarked on the religious sensibilities of the Greeks. Some say they are superstitious, and refer to their use of the Greek "eye," the blue colored stone with a central dot, in jewelry and other emblems. 
We decided to emulate those teachers we saw earlier on the square by sitting and having a little refreshment. The cafe we chose was full of young people, most under 30 and very smartly dressed. We also saw several moms and friends with children in strollers. It seemed to me that there were many more children in this town than we have seen in the other towns. While waiting outside the old fort for the bus back to the port, we saw one of those Corfu musicians wheeling his string bass into the fort which now serves as a music school. 

Ancient Olympia March 28, 2017

A much smoother night of cruising allowed us to wake very refreshed. I can understand from the prior night's sailing how St. Paul's shipwreck could have happened. Our seas were relatively calm and still we felt the rocking of this large vessel. I find myself musing more and more on the route we are taking and the times of the first century Christians. They were up against amazing odds, operating within the hegemony of the Greco/Roman culture. We saw it on full display at the site of ancient Olympia, the site of the Olympic games in ancient times for over 1000 years.

The UNESCO site we visited on Tuesday was the excavated site of the ancient Olympic games, at the foot of the small mountain of Kronos, in the  Peloponnese peninsula, some few kilometers inland from a small port of Katakolon. After 1000 years of Olympic games--from 776 BC to the 4th century AD--the site was abandoned when the Christianized Roman empire began to forbid the practice of pagan festivals. The ancient Olympics were indeed a pagan festival, dedicated to the worship of Zeus, and including many rituals honoring the other gods of the Greek pantheon. The site was abandoned in the 4th century, then many of the buildings were destroyed by an earthquake in the 7th century, and subsequently covered with mud and silt from the two adjacent rivers. After Greece received its independence from the Ottoman Empire, many western Europeans began to express an interest in excavating ancient Greek sites, including ancient Olympia. Eventually a huge part of the site was excavated, but not much excavation is going on now. That seems a shame to me. There is obviously so much more that could be done. There is lots of visitor traffic here now. I can imagine that architectural historians are fearful that the visitor traffic could destroy as yet hidden artifacts.
The scale of the site impressed us along with the details about how the athletes, priests, sponsors, trainers and spectators gathered here every four years. It was the one pagan festival that united the Greek-speaking world and gave the Greek city-states a taste of peaceful contesting. During the months around the Olympics, there was a truce that allowed the city-states to send their best soldiers to defend the honor of their family and city, with relative assurance that other cities wouldn't attack. The honor/shame dynamic was on full display when our tour guide described the artifacts. Statues of prior year winners lined the avenues so that athletes could be inspired by the honor given to prior winners. Alternatively one could be shamed in public, too. Statues of Zeus, constructed with the fines of cheaters, were also displayed with the names and details of the crimes. Those statues lined the avenue just before the entry gate so that athletes entering the stadium would be reminded of the shameful consequences of cheating.
The whole apparatus of the ancient Olympics seems amazingly similar to the modern games. There was an Olympic committee, consisting of the priests of Zeus, who worked for four years between each Olympic event, administering the buildings and communicating with the participants. There were training regimens, housing for the athletes, accommodations for the coaches and sponsors, a system of administering the finances involved in the city-state sponsorship, rituals for recognizing the winners with olive branches, and most importantly, the cult of rituals and a system of reporters (think "TV coverage") surrounding lighting the flame, opening ceremonies, to the final recognition banquets. The modern Olympics are not far from the cultic practices of these ancient Greeks. Only our names have changed. We don't call them "religious" any more but they really serve the same function in society, cultic acts that unite peoples across many divisions, that have their own set of practices and rituals, and espouse a common "ethic:" 'Citius, Altius, Fortius' Latin for "Faster, Higher, Stronger" proposed by Pierre de Coubertin upon the creation of the modern International Olympic Committee in 1894.

We entered the stadium grounds through an archway not unlike that in many modern stadiums from where the home team takes the field. On the field were many other tourists, including many children--a group of junior high aged French school children, some high school aged kids. Their teachers encouraged them to run the length of the field, from finish line to finish line, marked in marble at each end of the field. Smart teachers! The stadium area was surrounded by sloping hills where the spectators sat. Rol and I climbed the hill to take pictures, and Rol was adopted by a friendly dog who sat down next to him to make him feel welcome.

Our luck with the weather is holding out! Spring flowers are in bloom everywhere, and the wysteria is fragrant. The purple blooming tree we call redbud is called by the Greeks the "Judas tree."

Santorini on March 27

Yesterday, we visited the most photographed place in Greece--Santorini (from Saint Irene) one of a ring of three islands that form the boundaries of an ancient caldera. We awoke yesterday morning after a long sail from Athens to Santorini in some roughish water that rocked us all night. I wanted to wake before sunrise to see the sun come up, to see if dawn was indeed "rosy-fingered" in Greece. However we were so close to the cliffs of the caldera ring we couldn't see the sun at the horizon. I did see the whitewashed houses, clinging like eyebrows at the top of the cliffs, clustered in the two big towns of the Oea (pronounced "Ia") and Fira. The strata of rock on the cliffs was beautiful and interesting. We took an early breakfast on the ship where I found my favorite Scandinavian cheese on the menu. They called it Bruno's cheese, but I call it gjetost, made of caramelized goat milk. Yum!

We couldn't leave the ship except via tender boats, since the ship couldn't tie up at a pier. The water around was still very rough and the tenders had a difficult time first pulling up to the ship itself, and then docking at the pier on land. We noticed a couple of people had a rough time. Then very large tour buses drove us up the hill, cutting back and forth in hairpin turns in more stomach turning conveyance to the top of the cliff where we finally got some relief in the spectacular view of the ship below in the harbor.

The cataclysmic volcanic explosion that destroyed the island happened around 1,645 BC and some theorize that it was the source of the myths of the destruction of Atlantis. It may also have been one factor in the downfall of the Minoan civilization. 

At the top of the cliff a road runs from one end of the big island to the other. We drove through the town of Fira, dedicated to tourist shopping and resorts, then to the town of Oea, where we left the bus for a stroll through the narrow sidewalk lined with shops and taverna. There was construction going on everywhere, people getting ready for the high season of tourism that will start on Easter and run through September. It's a very popular romantic destination and we stopped to watch a couple--woman in a wedding dress and man in a tuxedo--trying to photograph themselves with a tri-pod camera. The wind kept displacing her veil, and a local stray cat tried to climb up her wedding dress, making for some amusing comments among the tourists who stood watching the drama. At the end of the road was a small circular stone ruin of a fortification from the middle ages. Along the fence were thousands of padlocks, just like I've seen in other romantic destinations in Europe where couples place a padlock to celebrate their wedding and throw the key off the bridge or the tower to symbolize the permanence of their union. I don't know how old this custom is, but we've seen similar phenomenon now in St. Petersburg Russia, and Munich, Germany. Maybe the practice will be seen in the US soon.

The tour guide told us that before Easter is when all the construction has to take place. As soon as the season opens, there is no more building allowed. All over we heard the sounds of electric saws and noticed wet cement and new fixtures. Many buildings were under intensive renovation and had excavations revealing lots of old stonework underneath. More and more tourists are spiking the demand for luxury accommodations, and the retail mix of high end shops proves it.  This is definitely the money spot of Greek resorts. Everyone wants to build on the top of the cliffs, and hanging down the slope to get the best views of the sunset. From the top walkway, many staircases lead to lower shops and cafes, mixed in with rental units, boutique hotels and private homes, white wash everywhere and lots of blue, highlighted by the Greek flag of blue and white, for the ocean and the waves, according to the tour guide. I thought it an interesting place to visit, but I wouldn't want to necessarily spend much time there--too much crowding for my taste. I can imagine it cheek by jowl with people in the high season.

Back on the bus to retrace our route to Fira we got a taste of the crowding that must be intense in the summer. The only road was supposed to be two-way, but the width of the buses and the parked cars crowded the passage so much that a bus could barely make it through by itself. Then we encountered buses coming the other direction. We couldn't figure out how they were going to make it work. One driver seemed to be challenging the other for the right of way. It took us 45 minutes, of negotiation and wiggling for the buses to pass each other along about 100 yards of road. Our tour guide told us that such occurrances are common in the high season. "This is what happens when only one cruise ship is in town.  Can you imagine when there are six or more?"

We finally made it out of Oea back to Fira. I noticed that the other side of the island away from the cliff side (the inside of the caldera) was gently sloping, with cultivation in grapes and enough space at one point for an airport. Back in Fira at 11 am there wasn't much in the way of sunset to be viewed yet, so we stopped to get some local wine and sagagnaki at a very pleasant place looking out over the sea. A jewelry store, with a very talkative and charming salesman (who turned out to be a second generation Greek American from California) sold me on a Greek key necklace and matching earrings. We made our way along the shopping street of Fira, back to a cable car for the descent of the cliffside back to a port tender for the trip back to the ship, still in fairly choppy water. 

Back on board, Rollie took a nap, still trying to shake his cold, while I had a dip in the pool and then tried out the afternoon tea served English style, with sandwiches and biscuits.  After a lecture on Greek civilization by a resident historian, we had our dinner with the first group of strangers at the ship's restaurant. A host seated us at a round table with three other couples. I remember that on our river cruise with Viking two years ago, the most interesting part of the trip was being seated with strangers at meals while we had conversations about our places of origin and shared impressions about the excursions of the day. This we did last night, with three other couples from Los Cruces NM, Denver CO and a small town in Eastern Tennessee. I don't know if we'll run into these same folks again on board. (There are over 900 passengers.) On a small river boat you see the same people over and over and have the opportunity to know folks a little better. Not so much on this big ship. But, in the small world department, we found out that one of the couples has a son in the same law firm as our son, Carl, but in a different town. We exchanged those names.

Lessons from Athens

First full day aboard the ship finds us still in the port of Pireaus, with enough sleep behind me to enjoy the day. Took the bus into the main city of Athens had a guided tour to the Acropolis ("the top of the city" in Greek).  A native Athenian, she had the dry sense of humor and extensive knowledge and pride in her city that makes for good tour guides. Highlights of her remarks for me:
Athenians of classical antiquity were justly proud of their accomplishments in mathematics, science, philosophy and the arts, and built the Parthenon over the time span of just ten years, between 447 and 438 B.C. to show their accomplishments. The Parthenon--the temple to the goddess Athena--is just one of many buildings on the Acropolis, but is the one most visible, and the one I think of when I picture Athens. The goddess Athena was the patron goddess of Athens and myth says that she gave to the Athenians the olive trees for the privilege. The olive tree made the civilization possible. It was the fossil fuel of its day, giving oil for lighting, medicine, and lubrication, providing edible fruit and fodder for animals, wood for carving and fuel for pottery making, all while requiring very little labor or water--a most beneficial tree! Thus the olive tree gave the Greeks the leisure time to think, design and write plays and poetry. It gave them wealth. They thought up ways to make civilization flourish, and so it did reaching its zenith under Alexander the Great. What did him in was hubris. "He over did it," said our tour guide. Dead at age 33, Alexander had succeeded in bringing Greek culture to the east, but he never brought wealth and power into Greece.  The guide Elsa ("a Greek girl with a German name") spoke with some sadness about her country, not living up to the glory days of its past. Still she seemed proud to be Greek. I have picked up a book in the ship library by Arnold Toynbee about Greek civilization and culture which seems to proffer the same view: Greeks have a peculiar way of looking at themselves and the past, with their past and seemingly better days behind them, they can be both humble and proud. She wanted us Americans to understand the pitfalls of great civilizations. No age is permanently privileged or permanent blessed. Hubris is the undoing of great countries.

From the Acropolis the views of Athens are spectacular. The guide pointed out the Theater of Dionysius and Odeum of Herodes and Pericles down the cliffs. We could also see the top of Mars Hill, where St. Paul preached to the Athenians, and the agora with its temple to Jupiter.
There is marble everywhere. The steps and walking surfaces up to the Acropolis are polished by millions of visitors' feet and are very slippery. We made our way up, entering the top by the western gate, just as the son was getting higher. It lit up the buildings to highlight them against a pure blue sky.
The main part of the city itself isn't beautiful, in the sense that other European capitals are, like Rome or Paris, but our guide laid this at the feet of the long history of occupation by foreigners--Romans, Byzantines, Italians, and Ottoman Turks--who plundered the city's wealth and never tolerated the flourishing of independent Greek culture. Not until independence from the Ottoman Empire (which Greece was celebrating on March 25, the day we arrived at the city) did an independent Greek country emerge. Now it is part of the EU, which many people regret. Our guide assiduously avoided too much political discussion, except to make some humorous and ironic remarks. The neighborhoods of the city of Athens are jungles of concrete condos, most of which were built after WWII. Their sprawling shapes crawl up the hills. We see lots of shiny cylindars on rooftops which look like solar hot water heaters and tanks. There is very little room for growing things or parking cars, which compete for space in the narrow streets. Some wild olives grow like scrub bushes. Redbud and wysteria are in bloom, as are red poppies. Bitter orange and chopped off mulberry trees complete the streetscape plantings. A little greenspace is found in some small parks tucked in among the concrete condos, many of which are covered by graffitti at street level. Some of that street art is surprisingly good.
Our bus tour of the city took us by many of the public buildings and museums, which are housed in former grand homes of the 18th and 19th century. A Numismatic Museum is in the former home of German excavator Heinrich Schliemann, who excavated Troy and then found a gravesite at Mycenae in the Argolid Peninsula containing 19 body remains and lots of gold from 1500 BC. Read about it in a recent issue of Smithsonian Magazine.
We passed by the parliament building and the Athenian Art Academy. We got off the bus to walk in the narrow streets of the Plaka District, lined with shops and cafes and people taking advantage of the beautiful weather and the Sunday holiday. Vendors hawked their wares in close quarters to lots of tourists. There are two Viking ships in port. Only scant glimpses of some small orthodox churches reminded me that this was Sunday. Although the tourists are everywhere, there were a fair number of Athenians out and about, too. After walking near the Museum of the Acropolis and glancing through street level cut outs of the excavations below, Rollie and I sat in a sunny cafe to watch the people and have a little refreshment.

Back on the ship we noticed that the cruise director would be acting as chaplain to lead a brief prayer and meditation (Christian, non-denominational) prayer service at 6pm. About 30 people gathered (in the disco, no less) to be led by cruise director Aaron, who said that although he was not an ordained person, he was from Texas. That's probably all the qualifications a person needs to be a chaplain on a cruise.  The worship was familiar, in a pan-mainline protestant sort of way, and included a prayer of confession, the Lord's prayer, and singing Amazing Grace. The cruise director admitted to a history in church choirs, and later we learned that he was a part of the ship's entertainment company, with a nice baritone voice.  It was good to mark a Sunday in this way, with worship and prayer. It's a rhythm I need.
Unlike the Viking River cruise that we took two years ago, this group seems to be almost all white Americans, with a few Brits thrown in for good measure. The only people of color I've seen among the guests are a couple we met on the bus coming in who said they live in Topeka KS now. Their accents led me to surmise they were originally of some south Asian country. On the other hand, the service staff are almost entirely people of color, from all over the world, many from Pacific rim countries. There are a smattering of Norwegians, mostly in guest services roles.  It's odd to see such a segregation of cultures between guests and service people...another point of wondering for me.

On the Road Day 1, or is day 2?

Fat Tuesday--Making the Time Count

This is the last day of the first month of my sabbatical--one-third over all ready. It also happens to be my mother's birthday and Mardi Gras--Fat Tuesday. Sabbatical time use and the marking of time is on my mind now that I've only two months of my sabbatical left. During the past month I've rearranged my schedule to do different things, but it hasn't been as easy as I thought it might be. The beginning of Lent, oddly enough, has brought to mind a time-use discipline that will help. I'm giving up FaceBook for Lent, but I'm picking up a daily post to this blog.
In the reallocation of time that I'm experiencing during my sabbatical time, it's this difference in my use of time that is proving to be the most challenging. Without the rhythm of a 50-hour work week since February 1, it has seemed that my weekly discipline of time use is up-ended. I find it harder than I thought to change habits that have been my practices for so long. What use of time is the best, now that I don't have to commute, study to prepare a weekly sermon, call on parishioners, design weekly worship? All those seemingly mundane tasks are where I've found the practice of the presence of God as my calling as a solo pastor. When all that is gone, it seems like there are vast expanses of time to be filled, with vast choices for how to do it, but very little guidance on how to make those choices. So where is God now?
Discipline in the use of time has never been my strong suit, but this is where my sabbatical challenge is now, for remaining two months until May 1.
The season of Lent has always been the church's time to call to mind the reorientation of one's life to God. This is the root of the practice of foregoing something for Lent, to make room for something else, something that will keep one's attention to God. So it is with the use of time.
So celebrate Fat Tuesday with all your heart, and use it as a time marker to make tomorrow a different kind of day. Nothing like the present to make a change for the future
!