The Journey Home

Well we’re out of the Holy Land and on our way home. This is the second time I’ve experienced Israeli security at the airport and both times my visions of armed guards and strip searches have been unfounded. They did not open my bags and dump out the contents (I’ve had items damaged by TSA security at American airports). I did not have to take off my shoes, be digitally stripped by a machine which I think I once saw in a Star Trek movie, nor have my buttocks patted down by a neoprene-gloved gorilla – all of which I’ve experienced more than once in American airports. The Israelis were courteous and respectful and amazingly non-intrusive (given, of course, that I in no manner look Arab).

We flew from Tel Aviv to Zurich. The first thing we had to re-adjust to was being in a place without concrete walls and check points, which actually weren’t that bad either. These check points are increasingly being monitored by watchdog organizations so the soldiers have to behave a little better. They actually seemed almost human. One told me he thought I looked like Jack Nicholson (I don’t know, maybe it was the way I arched my eyebrow as I showed him my passport). 

Zurich is a nice place to go through but if you stay there for very long it could quickly empty out your pocketbook. For instance, there was a McDonalds (in the old city, yet) that was advertising what looked like the economy version of a Happy Meal for 13 francs – about the equivalent of dollars. 

Now I thought I’d about figured out every washroom arrangement that one could encounter traveling in that part of the world, but Zurich offered yet another novelty. It was in the Wasserkirk (Water Church) where we went for a Bach concert. I’d gotten used to walking into a “W.C.” seeing a wash stand and two or more cubicles for use by both genders (all very private, of course). Sometimes they were labeled to indicate which gender but sometimes it was first come first served. Now this W.C. (does that stand for Where's the Charmin?) in the Wasserkirk had two cubicles. One was labeled “Toilette,” 

which could go either way. The other was labeled as shown in this photograph. Fortunately all I had to do was wash my hands so I didn’t have to figure this one out. After some reflection I can only guess that it has to do with the sort of equipment that the cubicles contain.

Strasbourg was paradise; sunny, old world, and watched over by a magnificent cathedral. I really think that the nature of a place reflects its spiritual history. Strasbourg was a center of the Rhineland contemplative tradition. One of my favorite Christian mystics, Meister Eckhart, taught and preached here. And after Zurich Strasbourg seemed downright cheap.

We are in Heidelberg now preparing for our flight home out of Frankfurt. The weather is, once again, chilly and cloudy – perfect weather to leave by. I think it was God who planned our stay in Strasbourg to be so nice. Anyway, this whole journey has been immensely fulfilling. I plan to do some deep reflecting when we return home.

Wilderness Wandering

That which makes me genuine is not how I am known by the world but how I am known by God. And it is not even how I am known by God but that I am known by God. I am who I am through my sense of being known by the One who has created me. There is within me that which is eternal. My whole spiritual struggle is the increasing illumination of that inner being. Striving to be known as significant by the world dims this inner light. The discipline of yielding inwardly to the inner light of God transforms me into the person God intends. 

Our journey through the Sinai impressed me with the magnificence of the wilderness. Once one leaves the built up resort areas around the Red Sea (now mostly deserted due to the political situation in Egypt) which cater to the whims and fancies of men and women one ventures into the very heart of the wilderness. It is barren but not without form. One becomes swallowed up in it. I can imagine what the Hebrew people might have felt as they left the lush river valley of the Nile and entered into this formidable land. Even in their slavery they had a certain comfort in the familiarity of their lives. They had at least the security of a world that they could depend on, harsh as it might be. Their daily lives were predictable which afforded them some control. They understood their world and themselves within that world and could thus contain it. 

Mt. Sinai

But here in the wilderness they would have lost all bearings of themselves as being defined by their surroundings. They would have become swallowed up in the wilderness; and in God Himself because here was not a God that they could contain within themselves. He was not the small God of their daily lives in Egyptian slavery but a new God with a new Name. Now they must trust their very lives to a God they did not understand. Even as God called Moses up to Mt. Sinai they became fearful and tried to make a god that they could understand and would be small enough to contain in the world that they had known.

We often face this dilemma in our spiritual lives. We groan for the largeness of genuine being but we cling to the relative safety and comfort of a self that is small enough to give us some sense of having an identity and significance. True spiritual formation leads us out into the desert where we lose the anchors of the false identity to which we cling. We become swallowed up in something greater than ourselves; not shapeless but yet devoid of the familiar. This calls for the discipline of “letting go” of that self which we have called “me.”

Yet the wilderness is not nothingness. In fact it is majestic in form. Those who wander through its valleys and defiles find not pleasant green pastures and rolling hills but stark and barren mountains towering above them. One understands why God had to guide the Hebrews through this wilderness as a cloud by day and pillar of fire by night. In our own experience of the wilderness it becomes critical that we look to Him however He might appear to us. Religion as a sort of cultural form or life ritual no longer works in the wilderness. Here we must seek the reality of God. The testing of the wilderness is to open ourselves to an unseen God and one whom perhaps in our heart of hearts we do not really trust. Our God has been a God of safety to whom we look to keep our lives running smoothly and manageable. But when we come into the desert it is easy to shake our fist at God and blame Him for failing us. He is taking away our comfort and security to which we have become accustomed. The wilderness is out of the groove. 

Do we react any differently than the Hebrews? Do we not murmur against God? If we really look deep within us we will likely find a fist-shaking, fearful, person railing against a God who has allowed such disorientation to come into our lives. There is a degree of comfort in our self-pity. It lets us hold on to ourselves and maintain a sense of control over ourselves as we try to cling to that small plot of land that we call “me.”  But the first step toward finding a transcendent security that enables us to face our adverse situation is to recognize and confess the complaining part of ourselves. Then we can bring this fearful, weak person into the light of God’s grace. 

One proven method of desert travel

This is the teaching of the Exodus. The murmuring generation must die in the wilderness before that generation born in the wilderness itself might enter the Promised Land. We then begin to get some sense of God Himself holding us and containing us within this wilderness. It is here, not in the lush valleys of the Nile, that God forms Christ within us. To walk in the wilderness is to allow ourselves to be swallowed up in God’s transformational work. 

Between Gerizim and Ebal: Streams of Living Water

Internet Photo

On this trip having visited Geneva and Rome I have struggled with the merits of both Protestantism and Catholicism. The question that is developing in my mind is, if I am not one does that mean I have to be the other? Can I not identify myself as Protestant without becoming Catholic? Our recent visit to Nablus helped me toward resolving this dilemma.

In Deut 11 God gives His people the choice to obey or disobey his commands. To obey brings about the blessing while disobedience brings on the curse. The two mountain peaks of Gerizim and Ebal represent the fundamental consequence of fallen human nature; the struggle between what we should do and what we should not do. 

Nablus, which is the site of ancient Shechem, lies in the valley between Mt. Gerizim and Mt. Ebal. These two peaks represent our moral dilemmas. God commanded Joshua upon taking possession of the Promised Land to set the blessing on Mt. Gerizim and the curse on Mt. Ebal  (Dt. 11:29). It is thus puzzling that after conquering Ai Joshua built an altar on Mt. Ebal; the mountain of the curse (Josh 8:30). But what does Mt. Ebal represent? It represents our disobedience. Obedience to the commands of the Lord, then, is to give up our disobedience; for it is the disobedient heart that brings on the curse.  Obedience is really the nature with which God has created us. This is our true state and thus what we truly desire. True spiritual healing is not so much to cultivate a life of striving to follow God’s commands but to put to death our disobedient nature. Jesus preached repentance not morality:

From that time Jesus began to preach, saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Matt 4:17"

Thus to repent – to turn from disobedience – is to come naturally into obedience. It is to build an altar of sacrifice on Mt. Ebal.

Altar stone at ancient Shechem

At Shechem in the valley between the two mountains Joshua brought the Ark of the Covenant, which represented the Presence of the Lord Himself. Here also after the conquest of Canaan Joshua took a great stone, and set it up there under the oak in the sanctuary of the Lord (Josh 24:24). While the altar on Mt. Ebal represented a sacrifice - a relinquishing - of their disobedience, the altar at Shechem was a witness to their obedience to the commands of the Lord. 

Internet Photo

Truth itself lies on neither mountain but in the valley between. Here flow the living waters of Jacobs well. It is one of the holy sites that we know for sure is the actual site. Our guide, an orthodox priest, demonstrated the depth of this well by having one of our group let down a bucket which required a huge length of rope to reach the water. Then he poured a bit of water into the well which took several seconds to splash into the water below. It is about 130 feet deep: 

The woman said to him, "Sir, you have nothing to draw with, and the well is deep; where do you get that living water? John 4:11-12

The springs of spiritual truth lie deep within us, not on the “high grounds” of morality. Truth lies not so much in our religious orientation as in the Living Water of Christ. Our orthodox guide emphasized this point more than once:

Jesus said to her, "Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father (John 4:21-22).

“God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth (John 4:24-25)." 

Certainly our religious orientation takes us to the well. One must enter the church to reach the well but it is in the depths of the well itself where the actual Living Water is found. Will we actually convert to Catholicism? That is an unknown. What we have in hand is the added depth of spirituality into which our experiences on this journey with the Catholic Church has led us.

Faith on the Ground: One Family's Fight for their Land

Sometimes “faith” seems like just a word that we hear a lot of in religious communities. It becomes a reality when we have to struggle with it. Just a few days ago I saw faith at work in a more substantial way in a Christian Arab family that is fighting to hold on to their land. The Nassar family owns a tract of land near Bethlehem which the Israeli government is trying to confiscate to build settlements. Daher Nassar purchased this tract of land in 1916 when the region was under the Ottoman Empire. He did something quite unusual and considered not very wise at the time. He obtained a written title to the land; which meant he had to pay taxes on it. This has proved to be the family’s chief weapon in their court battles to hold on to the land.

The first thing one sees upon entering the compound is a sign that says “We refuse to be enemies.” No matter what happens they will not give themselves over to bitterness. We had a demonstration of this attitude the day we visited the place. Two days before we arrived they had received a demolition order from the Israeli government. In three days if nothing was done bulldozers would arrive to level everything. Three days!? That’s all they had to find their lawyer and then for him to do something about it!? The only real answer is to engage the situation as it comes and look for God in it.

This is not the sort of situation that we like to live in. We want guarantees. Because we spend a lot our time with our head in the future trying to secure it we miss the God of the present moment. To chew on the imaginations of a future dependent on our own self-determination can rapidly plunge one into hopelessness. In a land much in need of faith this hopelessness has caused many Palestinian Christians to move someplace else. For the Nassars, leaving is not an option. They constantly face challenges from a government that wants to get rid of them. So they trustingly walk through every situation as it comes. In this most recent crises God came through and froze the demolition order in court.

Faith is the opposite of what we often think solves problems. It is not to get going when the going gets tough. It is standing still. One finds a place of peace in standing in trust. Turmoil comes from what might be, not from what is. God’s peace is in the present moment. This was what got the Isrealites out of a jam at the Red Sea. As Moses told them, “The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be still (Ex 14:14-15).”  Standing still requires courage. It does not, however, mean being inert. Just as the Israelites had to walk through on dry ground when God opened the Red Sea so the Nassar family walks through the openings that God makes in their situation. 

Will they eventually lose their land? For them that is not the question. They look only to what is on the slate for today. God has not resolved their situation. Faith is to find God in the situation not to prove God by its outcome. God, however, has done the unexpected. He has made this family an example of standing in faith which has international influence. The Tent of Nations is the organization that has grown out of their struggle. It is host to 5000 volunteers per year which come to work on the land and to learn and grow from what God is doing in this family.

Jerusalem: An Impossible Place

Tantur Ecumenical Institute

Our studies at Tantur Ecumenical Institute at Jerusalem began with a lecture entitled Living in the Middle East. The main point was that the situation in Jerusalem is, from a human standpoint, impossible to resolve. As we circuited the city the following day for an orientation tour of Jerusalem our Israeli guide described this region as sitting on a knife edge. The complexity of the political issues, the conflicts between and among religious factions and even the terrain and the climate of the area present a situation not easy, if actually impossible, to manage by human self-determination. The region presents itself as a place where only faith in God can make things work. It is thus truly a sacred place.

In their Egyptian slavery the ancient Hebrew tribes knew God only as a distant God. They did not yet know God as Yahweh; a God who is personally involved with their lives and who can and did respond to their oppression. As He delivered them out of their bondage He became a God in whom they must now trust. Slavery does not require faith in God. True freedom does. 

As we stood on various overlooks of Jerusalem I began to understand this as our guide read various passages from Deuteronomy, Isaiah, and Jeremiah. Our first stop was on a height  overlooking a beautiful and fertile land. Jerusalem is surrounded by rugged and rocky hills which do two things. It forms a sort of enclave which “channels” the rain into its fertile valleys and it protects the city from enemies. In contrast to the Nile valley which is watered by the dependable flooding of the Nile river Jerusalem is very dependent on rainfall. Thus the promise which God gave the Israelites in Deut 11:13-16 as they entered the Promised Land:

"And if you will obey my commandments which I command you this day, to love the Lord your God, and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul, he will give the rain for your land in its season, the early rain and the later rain, that you may gather in your grain and your wine and your oil. And he will give grass in your fields for your cattle, and you shall eat and be full…”

If the early rain or late rain does not come there is drought.

One begins to understand the fragility of the land standing on top of Mt. Scopus where desert spreads out on the side opposite of the fertile valleys and hills surrounding Jerusalem. Were it not for the protecting hills Jerusalem itself would sit in barren land.

All of this, as our lecturer on Biblical Geography emphasized, makes Jerusalem a “land in-between.” It is a place where no people group has been able to establish a permanent nation. It has been taken in by empires of which Jerusalem and the land of Judea have always been on the edges. Yet it is at the center of things because it is an important connection; a place where the world passes through but where no earthly kingdom has been able to gain a foothold. This is where God chose to bring His kingdom into the world.

It is a land divided. Here people struggle with fundamental questions of possession.  Whose land is this really? There are deep questions of faith. Why did God lead His chosen people out of a land of regular harvests which had spawned one of the world’s greatest and earliest empires into a land so dependent on “water from heaven?” Why didn’t God just make Moses Pharaoh (he did have the chance)? The very nature of this area speaks the answer. It demands dependence on the Spirit of God for life itself.

I am coming to believe that God does not mean for this region to be owned by any specific nation. I see here a spiritual focal point on this earth; a region that points to God Himself who owns everything. Here the only solution to the human situation is trust in God. That spirit, I believe, is to reach out to all nations. It brings to mind a passage in Joel 3:1-3 which I offer without interpretation:

   

"For behold, in those days and at that time, when I restore the fortunes of Judah and Jerusalem, I will gather all the nations and bring them down to the valley of Jehosh'aphat, and I will enter into judgment with them there, on account of my people and my heritage Israel, because they have scattered them among the nations, and have divided up my land,…”


Jerusalem is the antidote for the self-determination that has evolved in the world; the idea that we can make our own future. It is, I believe, the developing pattern for the New Jerusalem described in Rev 21:2-3:

And I saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband; and I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the dwelling of God is with men. He will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away."

Far from being discouraged by the “impossibility” that I find here, on the spiritual level it gives me great hope and comfort.

    

Rome: The Eternal City

Within the retreat centers, monasteries, and cathedrals that Linn and I have visited there is always a pervasive sense of holy presence. The sacredness of such places hangs thick in the air. Therefore I was eagerly expecting St. Peter’s at the Vatican to exude such divine presence as I have not yet experienced. But it was not there. I did not find the Vatican to be the “center of spirituality” that I thought it would be. Actually, because there is nothing of the substance of truth outside of the Spirit, all that is spiritual is center. In this sense the Vatican itself cannot be the “center” of spirituality. It is, however, a hub of that body of fallen believers struggling toward the redemption which the Spirit of Christ brings. It is the “church militant.”

My initial impression was one of officialdom; of institution, government, authority. And, indeed, the Vatican is the center of government of the Catholic Church. Judging by the statuary in St. Peter’s of popes sitting on “judgment seats” I even thought that this might be nothing more than a monument to human beings.

But as we spent more time around the Vatican something else was creeping up from underneath. I began to grasp the world-embracing scope of the Vatican. It came on me as we attended the pope’s Wednesday open audience in the Audience Hall. Here the pope acknowledged and addressed, each in their native language, groups of pilgrims from all over the world assembled together in an enormous hall. The brotherhood and sisterhood that comes together here under the cross of Christ, for the cross towers over all, becomes more than an idea or an ideal. One is absorbed into it.

I found here a strange admixture of personal intimacy conjoined with the world-embracing quality of the Vatican. Far from feeling lost within a global mass of humanity I felt my personal uniqueness actually being affirmed. I sensed a part of me coming alive that is not compartmentalized within an ego developed over a lifetime of living within an individualistic culture. Personal uniqueness finds its fullness within a sense of connection with the whole of God’s created order. Within a cultural context that is not so severely individualistic I began to understand that the Christ-Spirit is not individualistic, but neither can one properly call it collectivist. It is more like all-embracing. Only in our connection with essential “Humanity” as God has purposed humankind to exist does one find the fullness of one’s own human being. This is what I find the spirit of the Vatican to be; connectivity with “human being” as being restored through Christ. One understands that in Christ the divine quality of the human soul is overcoming its bondage to the world. In this sense Rome embodies the coming into being of the Church Victorious. 

A short taxi ride from the Vatican lie the ruins of the great Roman Empire. How ironic it seems that this once great empire held itself so superior to the seemingly insignificant body of believers that was the seedbed of the Christian Church. They were stamped as enemies of the state and dragged into the arena to be torn apart by wild beasts. You know, they really didn’t have very good organizational skills. The way you’re supposed to do it is to go out and find influential people in the community to form a board of directors who can promote your organization and get the funds coming in. It certainly doesn’t make much sense to go against the powers that be. By all rights this new organization should have fallen by the wayside long ago. But these who were the lowly and despised of the world had the eyes to see an unseen kingdom and the ears to hear an unheard message that is overcoming the world.

The final outcome of the weak in Christ

Rome is a place. Yet it is the eternal caught up within time and space. It is an historical proclamation of the eternal victory working in each of us. Here is where the apostle Paul was imprisoned and brought before Caesar, where Peter was bound in chains and crucified, where Christians were persecuted and martyred. Here the Church of Rome met secretly and defied the social conventions imposed on them to worship other gods. Here is where the mightiest empire on earth attempted to crush this neophyte community. Through the perspective of history the eternal victory pokes through. The splendor of the Roman Empire which exalted itself far above the “foolishness” of the gospel now lies in a heap of rubble below the monuments that today proclaim the faith of those early Christians.

Final outcome of the mighty of the world

What I sensed in Rome in the final analysis was the firm center of the church that has endured longer than any other organization on earth, which overcame the most powerful empire on earth (the very stones of the Coliseum and other buildings of the empire were confiscated and used to build the churches of Rome), which has endured sufferings and persecutions, has gone through times of corruption within itself – bad popes, selfish practices, the evils of the inquisition – yet continues to stand. One wants to entwine one’s life into its solid core. Such is not to sacrifice one’s self to religion but to expand into the liberty of its spirit.

Geneva: Re-examining the Reformation

We hold certain places sacred because we regard them as the very well-spring of our religion. For Protestants it is Geneva. For Catholics it is Rome. So we planned our trip to visit both. I intend to record my honest impressions whatever pole of favorability or criticalness they might land on, hopefully without too much analysis.

Our first stop was Geneva. Here we wanted to visit St. Pierre’s Cathedral where Jean Calvin preached his reformed message. This might possibly be the first truly Protestant church (although I won’t know for sure until I take a course in church history in seminary). The cathedral was closed the first day that we visited old town Geneva so we walked around the outside of the building. Now I love cathedrals and regard them as truly sacred places but this one is really strange. The two towers on either side of the entrance which are supposed to add to the grandeur and balance to the building are totally different from each other. Well, it goes beyond merely “different.” It was like putting Big Ben on one side to balance out the Eifel Tower on the other (actually the "Eifel Tower"  is in the middle of two other completely different towers. It's all very confused). I suppose it’s appropriate for a city like Geneva which has a strong international flavor. Linn’s first impression was one of a city trying to be all things to all people.

It was not until the next day that we were able to go inside. Calvin had made some modifications to the interior. He had removed all of the art work and statuary; I guess so as not to obstruct the drab stonework which I think served as inspiration for some of his doctrines. He regarded beautiful art in churches to be evil. It was idolatrous and a distraction to the worshippers who ought to be focusing on God. Inexplicably he did not remove the highly ornate pulpit which, set against the austerity of the whole interior of the Cathedral, drew one’s attention firmly to the man preaching under its canopy.

I plopped down into one of the chairs facing this raised pulpit struck by the incongruity of a Protestant pulpit in a Catholic Cathedral. I tried to image Calvin leaning over the railing, index finger wagging toward his listeners, expounding his doctrine of double predestination (his antidote for the Catholic Purgatory). I never have quite understood the improvement here. If, in the Catholic sense, your works don’t come up to snuff you don’t get to heaven, but you do get another chance at it in Purgatory. I don’t quite buy that one. But in order to get around the works thing Calvin made it so that unless you are of the elect you don’t get to heaven at all even if your works are of sterling quality. The whole thing is rather circular because what gives you some indication of whether or not you are of the elect is the moral quality of the life that you lead. So we are right back to works. I think I’d rather take my chances with Purgatory.

Here now in the very seat of the Reformation (which they keep to one side in the Cathedral) it just really hit me. Haven’t we gone far enough with this “Reformation” thing? I mean, perhaps it served a purpose. But when you reform something you don’t kill the patient to cure the disease. There are a lot of good things coming out of the Catholic Church now; not new things but a revival of some of the most ancient and spiritually deepest practices in the history of the Christian church – contemplative prayer, Lectio Divina, Prayer of Examen, Ignatian Exercises, spiritual direction. Sitting here in the seat of the Reformation (well, actually they had the seat roped off, but sitting in one of the other chairs facing that raised pulpit) I just had a sense that a depth of Christian spirituality hard-won through centuries of struggle to reach the divine had been plastered over. This, I think, was what disturbed me most about Calvin’s over-lay on this Cathedral. It was not reformation; it was more like spiritual amputation.

Here is my true reflection and my question as honestly as I can express it: Why continue to deny ourselves the fullness and richness of the gospel message simply because we think it belongs to the other side of the fence? There is both mystery and rationality in the gospel of Jesus. Why not open ourselves to the ancient practices while continuing to believe that we are not saved by works but by faith. If we can live with mystery then we can believe that the sovereignty of God is in no way compromised by our free will. So why don’t we work toward tearing down this dividing wall between Catholic and Protestant. As the apostle Paul might say, “Is Christ divided?”

Strangers in a Strange Land

The first leg of our journey, the flight into Frankfurt Germany, was moderately comfortable. The plane was amazingly un-crowded. Everyone had a row of seats to themselves. I was able to doze lightly. After landing in Frankfurt we immediately took the train to Baden Baden where we spent four nights working off our jet-lag and getting acculturated to a foreign culture.

Traveling through foreign places without the cultural buffer zone of a tour group one stands naked to the surrounding culture. This causes one’s own culture to stand starkly before you. I experience this as a sort of self-consciousness; of not being able to blend in because there is no greater context to blend in to. I become acutely aware of my cultural self as an individual; aware of being an American. This, in fact, is one of the main objectives of this trip; to see more clearly the sort of cloaks that we have been wearing.

Many of us Americans find the Germans a bit cold-blooded. But there is a spiritual quality about a country that has suffered through war and defeat on its own turf and of horrible dictatorships and political unrest. Such afflictions have chipped away at the granite exterior to find a sort of stoic grandeur within.

In contrast German psychologist Erik Erikson has described the American character as “tentative.” I never really understood this until I came to Germany. To be sure I have only a very small sampling of German culture; but what I have notice, particularly in the Rhineland, is a deep sense of community. Families have lived in the same area and run the same businesses for centuries. There is a harmony of place. What Linn has discovered as she has painted pictures of some of the architecture is that she can use the same techniques as with landscapes such as mountains. Manmade structures and nature seem to be all of one fabric. The streets and plazas follow the contour of the land. There was no excavating or leveling off.

I think this communal settled-ness is what seems to make the German people seem cold. They are not pretentiously polite. Waiters and waitresses do not fawn over you in restaurants. Yet there is child-like warmness underneath; a staid sense of inner personage; that is to say, of resting in one’s own being with no need to make an external impression to be accepted. In a climate without the fawning service people and superficial politeness I began to feel a bit unsure within myself. I rely so much on that external affirmation.

I think this is what Erikson meant. We hold ourselves attentive to our environment; like chameleons always ready to change our color to blend in and win acceptance. We do not tend to live within ourselves but in the glow that we look for in the acceptance of others. For all our supposed independence we are so very dependent on the affirmation that we give and receive. We shape ourselves around it.

I believe there is a spiritual message in this. We do this with our religion. We are so intent in our church communities on affirming and being affirmed that we do not really love. That is to say we do not really love the center of a person, but a whitewashed façade. We love to be loved; or, better put, affirm to be affirmed. We believe this to be warmth but it is really alienation. It is what keeps us from relating at deeper levels, beyond the whitewash, where we may need to dig through layers of corrosion before we come to the solid core of a God-created person. I think German architecture teaches this lesson. In the ancient buildings much of the exterior façade has worn away exposing the granite foundation that has kept these buildings standing for centuries.

At the Airport (part 2): The day of the flight

I miss those days when you were greeted at the airport by a crisply uniformed ticket agent who knew what he or she was doing. Now you are welcomed not-so-warmly by a machine that vaguely resembles R2D2 of Star Wars (I regard this as one of the signs pointing to the coming end of the present age). These machines just don’t understand your special needs, like technical incompetence. My greatest fear is entering the wrong data and canceling the entire flight – or at least voiding my own ticket. So this time I decided I’d avoid the machine altogether and printed up my boarding pass the night before at the hotel – a feat of which I am rather proud. 

There was another challenge that I knew I would face at the check-in counter that day. Given our panic the day before (when we left our bags on the bus – see last post) and being confronted with repeated messages over the airport PA system that any unattended personal items would be confiscated and the contents immediately destroyed, it is understandable that we had become rather neurotically attached to our luggage. So we felt some significant separation anxiety as we placed our bags on the scale to be checked aboard the plane.



And then we waited…and waited…and waited…for the low-echelon functionary behind the counter to take care of our bags (oh where are those well-trained, attentive ticket agents?). Finally I signaled to her that we were in fact right now existing here in front of her with obvious intentions to check our luggage (that by the fact that one of our bags rested on the scale) and could she please attend to us.



“Have you checked in yet?” She said motioning toward R2D2.



I thought I’d done that in the hotel last night. My sense of accomplishment was rapidly vanishing.



“We already have our boarding passes,” I said, rather hurt.



“You’ve got to check in anyway so we’ll know where you’re going."



Yeah, well I guess that does make sense. I’ll do anything not to arrive in Frankfurt and discover that our luggage is sitting somewhere on the outskirts of Katmandu. So I duly entered our confirmation number which I had the foresight to record in our travel folder.

The moment of pain had finally arrived as we watched our bags being swallowed up into the gaping yaw of one of the more ominous-looking machines in the airport. It then proceeded to fall through a black hole at the end of the conveyer belt. I could not shake the thought that somewhere in the subterranean caverns of Denver International Airport the only thing that stood between me and the possibility of a clean change of socks and underwear at our destination was a bored, low-wage laborer whose main thought was how he or she could beat the rush hour traffic home that evening.

The flight itself went really well. It took only 7.5 hours to reach Frankfurt from Chicago and we got in early. The plane was virtually empty. Every passenger in the extra leg-room section had a whole row of seats to themselves and there were some rows still left empty. At Frankfurt it took us three trains to get to Baden Baden. And here we are now practically recovered form our jet-lag and ready to continue our adventure.

At the Airport: The day before the flight was a near disaster

Our adventure begins with a near disaster. Not one that would concern FEMA but it sure put us into a minor panic. We took the bus to the airport the day before our flight because we like to stay in a hotel near the airport. That way we’re not madly rushing around getting ready the day of the flight. Also I wanted to see about getting some Euros so we’d have some when we got to Frankfurt (not really a good idea since they charge the highest exchange rate plus a $5.00 fee at those exchange offices at the airport. ATM machines are plentiful in the Frankfurt airport for a much better exchange rate – I should have listened to Rick Steves on that one). At the top of the escalator in the terminal I asked Linn to watch our stuff so I could use the restroom. Our stuff? Seemed a bit light for a two-and-a-half month trip. Our bags!! Where are our bags!? There’s supposed to be two suitcases here. Well at that instant I knew exactly where they were. Still on the bus (Note: I’m not using complete sentences here because at the time I was not thinking in complete sentences and I’m trying to capture the moment).

Now those of you who know me and think I’m slow, had you seen me at that moment your whole concept of me would have been totally shattered. Bounding down the escalator (not caring whether it was the up or down escalator) I made for the door where the bus used to be. Not there! “Quick,” I said to Linn only half conscious of where she actually was, “to the other side!” We had exited the bus on the west side of the terminal and I knew (in a rare moment of rapid-fire thinking) that the bus circled around to the east side to let off passengers. I covered the distance across the terminal to the east side in less than half a minute (I’d lost all awareness of Linn at this point).

A bus had just pulled out of the space in front of the door. It made its way down the pavement and pulled into the Southwest Airlines terminal. With another bit of God-infused thinking I remembered that someone on the bus wanted to get off at Southwest Airlines. I usually don’t run and pray at the same time but this was an occasion for multi-tasking. Even in my panic I was able not to bump into people in wheelchairs or trample mothers with babies in strollers. I actually don’t remember my exact route but it was partly in the street, partly on the sidewalk and a little bit in places where people don’t ordinarily walk. In the end a little indignation paid off (I thought of Zacchaeus climbing a tree or the father of the prodigal running to meet him). Just as I reached this particular bus the driver, whom I recognized, was taking our bags out from the under-compartment. He actually apologized to me for not reminding me to collect our bags. Can you imagine that? An RTD driver apologizing for our stupidity! He even asked me if I was O.K. because I was gulping in large quantities of frigid air.

And so with triumphal music playing in my head I set out to find my wife whom I’d left behind somewhere. She’d actually stopped another bus and the driver was about to look to see if our bags were on his bus. I felt like something of a hero (a compensation-reaction, no doubt) as I approached Linn while dragging our two bags behind me. She seemed very relieved. And so we caught the shuttle to our hotel hoping that this experience was not an omen portending how the rest of this trip would turn out. And, oh yes, we did get a small amount of Euros at the greatly inflated exchange rate. One pays to learn.