Neutral-land

My last two precious Eurorail days found me on a quest for that Alpine Mountain High, of course with only local food and drink to sustain me.

Bern
The strangely smalltown feel that the Swiss capital manages to pull off is a great reminder that the principle of subsidiarity (ceding initiative to smaller governing bodies and not trying to control it all from the top) a healthy democracy makes. So perhaps does dividing your executive branch in seven.

By the way, the town provides free bike rental. Thanks Bern. And free suicide prevention nets from the nice lookout spots. Uhh... thanks Bern.

Fortunately Bern Cathedral was, like Nuremberg's, another example of a church that went Protestant without scrapping all its art. Thanks Bern. Really.

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Geneva
Ganf (being the inelegant German word for Geneva) was of course another story. Calvin's "Protestant Rome" went, I am increasingly convinced, entirely too far. The gutted cathedral, like Amsterdam's (point 7), feels emptied rather than "purified." Furthermore, the Reformation Museum, recently constructed to accommodate travelers like myself who go to Geneva for its historic interest to Protestantism, was a disappointment. Holographic images of Calvin and Luther appeared in mirrors a la Snow White and proceeded to make bad French jokes. Why is it that everything touched by Protestant bureaucrats turns to ash?

At the end of the Museum there was an uninspiring video to on "What can Protestantism offer today?" (It was as if they expected you to exit the museum with that question.) The answer: Protest. Protestants can, like, protest stuff.

Why, I wonder, do I need to be a Protestant to do that? I'd much rather grow dreadlocks, start an angry-band and a new N.G.O. I'm already one third of the way there.

But you know, maybe they're right. And... if Protestantism really is about protest then I can gladly name myself a Protestant whose roll in life is to protest the fact that Protestantism has become about nothing but protest. In reality, the "protest" aspect of the Reformation was an unfortunate means to the end of the Reformation, which was the Gospel.

The Reformation Wall was a bit more interesting... In giant letters reads the motto of Genevan Reformers

"POST TENEBRES... PROTEST. woops, sorry. I mean POST TENEBRES LUX."

Chamonix
That night I was on the slow train deep into the Alps, breathtaking in more ways than one, for a Saturday night in Chamonix where I scored the last bed at the cheap place in the dorm right next to the bionic snorer. What was first annoyance soon became fascinated admiration that someone could be that loud without waking themselves up. Then to church at the French town of Plateau d'Assy. The former was of such personal significance to me that it has earned its own forthcoming blogpost. What greater honor could a small French village want?

Belgique? Fantastique!

Cologne (again)
Saith Rick, "The Bruxelloise are cultured and genteel - even a bit snobby," a notion reinforced by almost all trains from Cologne to Brussels requiring a 22 euro reservation because they were "private." This limited my options a bit, and to kill time in Cologne I did the only sensible thing - visit the tomb of Albert Magnus. It's located in Cologne's Romanesque church which is understandably overshadowed by the Gothic/neo-Gothic Cathedral mentioned below. If not Albert, you've probably have heard of one of Albert's better students. Even genius needs to be taught.

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Brussels
Brussels' layout is inspired by Versailles, which makes it, especially the central square, quite beautiful. I had a rushed visit at its first class museum where I saw among other things David's famous secular martyrdom. In the square next to city hall is the restaurant where Marx worked on the communist manifesto - ironically now the most expensive one in town. If anyone ever tells you the very Marxist idea that ideas don't make history, please think about this restaurant. Also, you gotta love a town with a mascot.

The family friends I stayed with in Brussels were the furthest thing from the apparent snooty stereotype. I was enriched with the "as good as the French, as much as the Germans" Belgian cuisine, and enjoyed a stay in a home which was literally in the center of modern Europe (E.U. headquarters was visible out the window). At their counsel I abandoned the plan to do Bruges and Ghent the next day, and settled for one (a very good idea).

Ghent
Word on le rue is that Ghent is quite the partytown, confirmed by the fact that the place was trashed from the last night's festivities when I arrived, and cleaned up and partying in the streets again as I left. The elaborately costumed Medieval folks all over (including in the trams) gave the place a Disneyworld/Renaissance-fair vibe, which I tried to appreciate. The dreadlocks-to- head ratio was the hightest I've yet seen in Europe. But above all, what a Church. Because the fine arts museum of Ghent is being renovated, famous works by Rubens, Bosch et. al. were just hanging in a Church... which was after all their originally intended destination.

Then, in the same Church I saw the Ghent altarpiece which, to put it mildly, transfigured my weekend. It has survived Protestant Iconoclasm, the French Revolution, a Napoleanic seizure, several sellings and rebuys, a Nazi seizure (including an attempt to destroy it at War's end to keep in from falling into the hands of "world Jewry"), as well as a famous theft complete with ransom note and yet unsolved mystery... so I figured I should visit it before the next catastrophe.

"Please millinerd," I can hear you saying, "Tell me more!"

Okay, if you insist.

The God of the Ghent Altarpiece
Although as mentioned below Barth used the Isenheim altarpiece as an expression of his theology, the Ghent altarpiece would have been a much better pick. It too has John the Baptist's pointing hand that so inspired Barth, but this altarpiece also brilliantly illuminates Barth's Christocentrism. Let me explain...

Art historians have for centuries debated whether the central figure in red is meant to be God the Father or Christ the Son. Take a look - Sure he looks like Christ, but the inscription mentions the Almighty Father and the hand-wounds are conspicuously absent. Some then have conjectured that the Van Eyck brothers (along with their theological advisor) actually intended this dual identity... for did not Christ say "anyone who has seen me has seen the Father"? In other words, the Ghent altarpiece communicates that there is no God other than the God revealed to us in human history through one particular human - Jesus Christ.

This is the central claim of the Christian faith that Barth did not invent but simply reminded we perpetually wayward Protestants of. The scandal of this claim is being renewed daily for me in always friendly and sometimes feisty conversation with the many Muslims, Hindus, and the (not disimilar to the latter) thoroughbred pluralist Americans that I'm in class with at the Goethe Institute.

The absolutely massive Ghent altarpiece (explore it a bit) is one of the best expressions of this insight that I know of. The Father (in the form of Christ) in the above portion is in exquisite harmony with the Lamb of God revealed in the lower panels, slain for the salvation of the world. In other words, God (upper center panel) has no tricks up his sleeve that would ever contradict the mercy which was literally poured out (lower center panel) through his incarnate body.

Asked once by a Seminarian whether Barth's recovery of the insight (that there is no God other than the one revealed in Christ), theologian T.F. Torrance once replied like this: [and I paraphrase...]

"When as a pastor you are able to look a dying man or woman in the eye, terrified of what is next, and assure them that there is no other God, or "God behind God," other than the merciful Saviour revealed in Jesus Christ... then I assure you you will realize Barth's insight is indeed worthwhile."

This, my friends, is the Christian faith. As the weird cop in the The Club commercial used to say on T.V., "Accept no imitations."

I assure you they abound.

But to end on a positive note, if this actually is the real God we're talking about, despite the "limitations" that might cause discomfort with such a Christocentric theology - one needs at least admit it's not that bad of a set up. A God who dies to express there's nothing he wouldn't give for us? It certainly could be a lot worse.

update: I have since expanded upon this in an article available here.

Keller and Bono

Okay Tim Keller, enough. Way to spoil it for the rest of us. This essay of his contains a brilliant litany of responses to objections to Christianity that robs me of the excuse of not sharing the Gospel because I'm trying to come up with the best phrasing.

I recommend reading the essay... but if you're in a rush:

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What about the problem of evil?

"If God himself has suffered our suffering isn't senseless."

But doesn't Christianity breed violence?

"We are the only faith that has at its heart a man dying for his enemies, forgiving them rather than destroying them. This must be presented to our culture as an unparalleled resource for living in peace in a pluralistic society."

Aren't all religions at root really the same?

"Inclusivism is really covert exclusivism."

But isn't everything relative?

"Individual creation of truth removes the right to moral outrage."

But isn't the God of Christianity angry?

"On the cross God does not demand our blood but offers his own."

What about the hypocrites?

"The solution to injustices is not less but deeper Christianity."

Sure, but the Bible is unreliable, right?

"The gospels' form precludes their being legends... Their timing is far too early for them to be legends... Their content is far too counter-productive to be legends."

And for those of us who are Christian and are wondering about which is the legitimate Church...

"There is a radical difference between religion - in which we believe our morality secures for us a place of favor in God and in the world - and gospel Christianity - in which our standing with God is strictly a gift of grace. These two different core understandings produce very different communities and character. The former produces both superiority and inferiority complexes, self-righteousness, religiously warranted strife, wars, and violence. The latter creates a mixture of both humility and enormous inner confidence, a respect for 'the Other', and a new freedom to defer our needs for the common good."

Regarding that last point, Bono is quite good as well. Quite good indeed.

So Bono can preach... can Keller sing?

Paris - part deux

Chartres
When does a tourist become a pilgrim? In this case when he went to Chartres. Whereas the sculptures of Cologne Cathedral betray their Romanticism (one Mary looked just like Cinderalla), every pebble of Chartres exudes Medieval authenticity. Like a rugged French wine, this place is just getting better with age. The windows and sculptures are readable and clear... one might even say "evangelical" in the classic sense of the term: They make plain the Gospel. The place was made all the more beautiful by some very well executed works of abstract art hung all around the cathedral, which admittedly did not exude Medieval authenticity, but still worked.

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One of the radiating chapels was, interestingly, dedicated to ecumenism with an icon for the Orthodox, an open Bible for Protestants (though sometimes I wonder if it would be a better representation if closed), and a cross for Anglicanism. The Catholics of course get Chartres itself. There were unfortunately no candles burning at this chapel, whereas there were everywhere else... is Church unity really a lost cause? So I fired one up. If you're ever in the neighborhood, consider keeping the flame alive. Still, if church unity is going to happen, it's gonna take a lot more than candles.

The exciting labrynth is built into the stone floor, rubbed to a shine by millions of pilgrims' feet. It has become the ambition of many to "de-Christianize" these Cathedrals, leading to whispered statements such as

"Did you know the Labrynth actually had a PAGAN origin?" Or... "Look... Zodiac signs!!! Guess this place isn't so Christian afterall."

But keep this in mind: Christianity appropriates. The reason for the Zodiac signs is to symbolize that Christ is Lord of all, and nothing, even the stars, lie outside his domain. And though the Labrynth can admittedly mean anything you want it to me, it is intended (in this case) to be a tool to facilitate communion with Jesus Christ. Pagan precedent? Of course. Christianity won the west by carefully transforming Paganism, not by ignoring it. A task for which a great Scriptural analogy has always been this.

Mo' Museums
Back in Paris I went to Saint Sulpice where the Delacroix murals are a winner. They were one of the last works of his career when, not unlike Andy Warhol, he found himself drifting back to Christianity. In them Jacob wrestles with the angel and is called Israel, meaning "struggle." Relationship with God is not easy. Then to Saint Germain, the oldest Church in Paris where the walls are still painted the way all Cathedrals would have been originally. After this I had a chance to do a "Left Bank" walk to see some contemporary art.

Art History is interesting for it's "famous firsts," but one often finds the best art in galleries by living artists taking advantage of the pioneering steps made long ago. Among other Left Bank sights, I saw Oscar Wilde's hotel where he uttered his last words, "Either these curtains go or I do."

Then to the courtyard of the Rodin Museum (which felt strangely familiar). The Gates of Hell is a greatest hits of all Rodin's work, swirled together with the thinker on top, reminding us all where excessive introspection can lead. Though all of Rodin's figures (with a few exceptions) seem to be tortured in their bodies, the body will not always be a prison, and therefore attempts to capture its beauty and struggle are never in vain.

Then to the Picasso museum. Picasso was, I think, a great artist... who offered his talent on the altar of originality to the god of fame. His interesting initial moves went stale quicky, and he seems to have spent a lot of time coasting on early success. Though there were, I admit, a few places where his abstractions may have captured what more realistic works never can, still I can't shake the conviction that the emperor has no clothes on.

On a similar note, I felt about the same about the exoskeletal Pompidou Modern art warehouse as I did about the Tate Modern. The only thing that redeemed both places were the great views... views that, keep in mind, leave you looking outside the museum, away from the "Art," which these places are convinced is a tool with which to bludgeon the bourgeois. Someone please rescue Rouault from that place.

Revolution
That night I met up with meine Schwager und Schwagerin (brother and sister in law) tomtastic and the freshly graduated Susie. We stayed near Napolean's tomb... the absolutely massive reminder that if you pretend that you can live without structure in the name of Liberty Equality and Fraternity, you'll get worse than a King... you'll get an Emperor. Summing up this Revolution Wilhelm Roepke wrote,

"The positive aspect of the Ancient Regime, that is, the genuine structure of society, was destroyed, and its negative aspect, i.e., the despostism of the state was maintained in an even more pronounced form."

Nature abhors a vacuum, and by attempting to illiminate structure completely it came back with a vengeance, not unlike the liberation of the proletariat leading to Chairman Mao or an utterly "free" Pentecostal Church who ends up with a frighteningly authoritarian pastor.

Versailles
The next day the three of us swung to the Mother of all Castles. The interior was impressive, but much of the historic Hall of Mirrors was unfortunately being renovated (yet after comparing the cleaned side of Chartres to the unccleaned side, one doesn't exactly mind renovation work). The moral of these mirrors? Clemency. For the German bitterness spawned by this room gave Hitler all the raw material he would need.

Lest you think us unsophisticated for going to the American Church while in Paris (which we had done that morning), when at Versailles we went to high Latin Mass (with French readings and sermon) in the King's chapel. It was quite the experience. The "chapel" where Loius Quatourze would have worshipped (of course also in Latin) was tastefully Baroque and quite glorious... a fitting tribute to the Sun King's King (he did have one you know).

Would you go to a Latin mass with French sermon for your Schwager?

Incidentally, of the two sermons on the same parable we heard on Sunday, I like this one the best.

Though Versailles is essentil for its being the inspirtation for so many other castles (as well as for the town planning of Washington D.C. et. al.), I kept thinking how much more satisfying Neuschwanstein was.... until seeing the grounds. Even withnout the squirt-factor (the fountains were off), we left impressed.

Barth Day
So... after a combined 3 packed days and 2 nights of sightseeing I was finally at liberty to do something - enjoy Paris. We went to an incredible restaurant (but I think they all are). 1AM on a Sunday and everywhere is still packed with locals of all ages... different. Or shall I say... different.

On the way back I had a sort of Barth homage day. Hostile as he could be to visual art, Barth would use the Isenheim altarpiece as an example of what our role as Christians is, that is, to simply point to Christ. So, at the thankful prodding of my Art History professor who calls it the "best pre-Reformation altarpiece in the world," I saw it. He was right (and that's saying a lot considering the existence of this). Realize that the figures are life size, and there's a level of sculpture even after the two panels. Add Colmar (where the museum is) by the way to Haarlem and Aachen as smaller Eruopean towns worth a return visit.

Barth would also (if I'm not mistaken) use the never finished but still mesmerizing Strasbourg Cathedral as an analogy for his monumental Church Dogmatics, which remain themselves unfinished. Climbing the stairs of the Cathedral can also be as tiring as reading the Dogmatics... and rewarding.

Incidentally, nothing kills one's German like French. I seem unfortunately have only have room in my mouth for one foreign language at a time.

Like I said, Monarchy isn't all that bad.

And in the long run, the European way of life I've been so admiring may be.

The Blitzkrieg

One man, one country, one three day weekend, one Eurorail pass. Lot's can happen. Here's what did:

Nuremburg
With a pace that recalls a fine German film I saw recently, I made a brief visit to Nuremburg's Lorenzkirche. Why? Because there you can find a church that is bursting with sculpture, altarpieces and woodcarvings in every available corner that is... wait for it... Protestant. Nuremburg was one of the first cities in Germany to go Prot, but the city avoided iconoclastic excess with Luther's advice to basically "Remove the idols from your hearts and leave the art alone."

Before leaving I made a quick stop to a museum that must have known I was in a hurry because all their best stuff was conveniently packaged in one hall. Though it gets a bad rap, I kinda like Cranch's didactic Protestant Art. But still, no one can touch Albrect Durer, the greatest German artist who lived in this city for 20 years, and dreamed of the Protestant Renaissance that never quite got off the ground.

The moral of the city: Protestants can do art. The other moral is, collaborate with maniacs and the international community will hang you, aber das ist eine anderes geschichte (that's another story).

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Munich
Then it was off to Munchen, which I got to just in time to see one of the finer museums I've been to, the Altepinakothek. Advice: Audioguides are almost always worth it. A full Rembrandt cycle (Incarnation through Ascension), Durer's four Apostles that beautifully sums up the Christian life, and some of the best Rubens I've ever seen. Say what you will about fleshy, Counter-Reformation Rubens... but his studio churned out art with a visual jolts (keep in mind it's 15 feet high) that even Hollywood has yet to catch up to. It was also nice to have looked at this famous painting when being the same age as the artist when it was painted.

Then the a swift swig of Bavarian Baroque, visiting as I did every Church I could in the Munich area. Fraumunster was tastefully rebuilt with walls as whitewashed as an Amsterdam Church... but Catholic. Very interesting. The Rococo make me a little queezy... and glad to be Protestant. Then a quick stop (outside only) to the palace of the Weisenbachs (Germany's kings before all that democracy stuff happened). Ahh... Monarchy. You know it wasn't all bad.

One cannot go to Munich and not to the Hofbrauhaus. I considered just stopping by to look, but it drew me back for a meal. Quite an evening. Who couldn't love German Biergarten food (and the price)? After this touristificated but still fun event, I was left with the "sobering" thought that the Hofbrauhaus was where Hitler made one of his first public speeches.

That night I slept in a place that felt like it was taken out of the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. Gentrified, yuppie filled Muncih has no cheap places to sleep... except The Tent, which is basically, one big... uh.. tent. With bunk beds. Trippy.

Fussen
At 5AM I was off to Fussen, an utterly necessary move if you ever make it there in summer - you must go early. Neuschwanstein Castle was, how can I put this without exaggerating... hmmm... Okay, here we go: The most beautiful place I've ever been to. There. Six brief reflections:

1. This place is not kitsch, it's serious Art History and the quintessential expression of the Romantic Age.
2. Still, the boyhood vibe in the palace reminds us that Ludwig II would have done well to have gotten married... even better if he had gotten married to Austria's favorite fairy tale mystery royalty Sissi.
3. Even so, it's not all bad that Ludwig channelled his libidinal energy into architecture.
4. The Romanticism that Neuschwanstein encapsulates is no stretch for us to understand, because it's in our blood... thanks to Disney.
5. And though our inner-Marxist may make haste to dismiss this all as royal over-indulgence... keep in mind the building of this castle employed entire towns for two decades, not to mention a century (so far) of tourism based jobs.
6. Maybe history has perfectly evolved: Monarchy to build stuff like this, then democracy so we plebes could tour them.

There was much more I would have liked to see in the Munich area, like the Neue Pinakotech, but their website tour made me feel better. On a more sober note I would have liked to have gone to Dachau, but even without going one can almost feel the guilt in this country (it is mandatory for every German student to visit a concentration camp). I may be grasping for straws here, but despite all the theodicy problems the holocaust reinvigorates, at least we can all be thankful that Dachau is not STILL the concentration camp command center that it once was. Had Hitler got the bomb first, it might have been only the beginning of worldwide extermination. Really.

Cologne
I slept back in Mannheim Saturday night, and then it was off to Koln. The Cathedral was impressive, keeping in mind that it can be considered as much a testimony to the glory of Germany as of God. For centuries it stood unfinished, until fueled by Prussian patriotism (and taxes) it was rushed to completion in the nineteenth century neo-Gothic fever. It houses the relics of the magi. I dig relics. If you buy the resurrection of the body (by far the harder sell), it's not too much of a stretch.

Cologne is also Germany's big convention town, and I was glad to realize that the day I was there was Cologne's Pride-Fest (glad because otherwise scores of dressed to the hilt tranvestites in the train station on a Sunday afternoon would have been normal). So I made my way through throngs of the liberated to... how can I put this without exaggerating... hmmm... Okay, here we go: The best small art exhibit I've ever been to. It pays to be in a town that is about to host World Youth Day (the exhibit at WYD Toronto was excellent as well). Say what you will about the Vatican, no one can dispute their ability to get a hold of great art. For an overview click the "Ansichten Christi" window (with Thomas' finger) on this site and pick English. It was strange to realize that several of the paintings I had recently seen at other exhibits in Europe. Art follows me.

Barnett Newman's Midnight Blue (1970) in the same room as early Christian sarcophogi (with only symbolic representations of Christ) in order to to explore the undepictable nature of God - brilliant!

Aachen
Finally was a trip to Aachen. Why Aachen? Because it's where Charlemagne was crowned in 800 and was once the capitol of Europe. I got to the Treasury past closing (with a little German begging) and saw some great relics including Christ's robes' drawstring (okay maybe relics went a bit far). But best of all... the Cathedral. Which due to its age had a Byzanztine inspired core dome complete with mosaics, a Gothic addition with stain glass windows almost as good as Saint Chappelle, a whitewashed Baroque sacrament Chapel, and in the church next to it there were some great late nineteenth/early twentieth century painitings as well as some ultra-modern stain glass windows. What am I going all around Europe for? All of Art History can be found in Aachen. It also has that more laid back Euro-vibe I enjoyed in Haarlem. Open air ballroom dancing packed with locals (who were quite good) says it all.

By the way, I hope saying this isn't the equivalent of praying on the street corner, but it's nice to not only visit this famous churches, but to actually pray and worship in them. After all, I think that's what they're for.