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?”