Tourism, cathedrals and communion

Yesterday Sunday as we arrived at the Notre Dame de Paris it was just time for mid-day mass and we sat down to take part in the service. A few days earlier I learned incidentally that the Notre Dame is the most visited place in Paris, before the Louvre or the Sacré Coeur. What does that say about the significance of sacred buildings in the city? At the Hamburg University there is a project "Church and the City", if I recall the name correctly, that does research on the roles of church buildings in cities. What is it that makes people want to visit church buildings? Notre Dame is  very crowded and the steady flow of visitors and tourists does not prevent mass from happening and the powerful organ by far out-sounds the blurry noise of the crowd. 

What struck me was the instruction on participation in the Eucharist: the french text said something like "if you share our faith in the presence of Christ as we have communion you are invited to participate", the English and German instructions said explicitly that unless you share the belief that Christ is present in the bread, you are asked to abstain from partaking. We decided spontaneously that we were French speaking, which we are indeed....

Partaking in communion with many strangers of all kinds of walks of life while a crowd oft tourists slowly walk around as in a non-declared procession was special and indeed beautiful.

I must admit, however, that I found the sanctuary of the Sacré Coeur more dignified and more inspiring, even if the service which was going on there during our visit Monday morning felt less authentic and more routine. Contradictions of churches as public spaces that also are tourist attractions....

Wrong-sided people

For my birthday last fall I was given a book entitled "Histoire des gauchers  - Des gens à l'envers" by Pierre-Michel Bertrand (Imago). Dislocating and fracturing my left shoulder joint and arm reminded me that I was in fact left-handed. I have a vague and unpleasant recollection from age 4 or 5, sitting with my sister at a children's table at home, drawing. Suddenly the maid stopped by and abruptly pulled the crayon from my hand - I actually seem to still feel how she yanked it out from above of my left hand, yelling, that's bad, you are not allowed to draw with your left hand! This happened more than once, I must have finally yielded, because I don't recall being told at school that I must not write with my left hand. Now that my left hand was disabled, I realized I did most everything other than writing with my left hand: washing my face, shaving, washing dishes, pulling something out of somewhere etc. 

I began to think about how the forced switch to the right hand might have affected me. Being left handed was regarded for centuries and until the generation of my children as weird at best, and evil at worst. Bertrand cites Quevedo: "Left-handed people can't do anything right, they are wrong-sided people of whom one wonders whether they are actually people." 

So being left-handed is one thing. Having to switch and pretend to be right-handed is another thing. Reading Betrands book makes me realize how much humanity has come to be more humane, more accepting. That's what I call real progress. That comfort is good enough to let me stop wondering about how much damage was done to my poor soul when I was five. Except that it does help me forgive myself for feeling weird sometimes, for being routinely confused about what's left and what's right, and generally just ticking a little differently from plain people. - What's wrong about not being plain? Today I solemnly affirm: left is beautiful! And actually, being "à l'envers" has its charm...

On love and winter in the Jura

On Friday night we enjoyed in the small but real theater Biel-Bienne the opera Amadis by Jean-Baptist Lully. Lully was the King's favored composer, much more appreciated and spoiled than his colleague Bach in Germany, whose music was much more complicated, less pleasant and covered a much, much wider spectrum both in rhythm, harmony and structure. Of course Amadis is about the unmatched love, about its foes, troubles and ultimate victory. A favored theme not only at the King's palace in France, but ever before and since and anywhere else.

This time in Bienne, Lully's Opera had been rearranged to incorporate some modern, jazzy parts, a little like Play-Bach, very capably performed by the soloists and the choir. Playful and funny, not without some pointed sarcasm while still being beautiful in its way to expand Lully's go-rounds whose pleasantness may get boring after a while. The performance began in a Restaurant near the theatre, where Amadi's death was being announced and the funeral initiated. Amadis is a star (sure, after having triumphed over the forces of evil, hatred and lies. 

By the way, there is an interesting occurrence of wordplays about the preference of truthfulness over faithfulness, and about the saving power of continuity (Beständigkeit) - as in a variation of faithfulness, which in Hollywoodian philosophy about love has become a somewhat shallow concept.

Back to Amadis: as is usual in the community of followers, the star is being celebrated and I joked to my brother-in-law who sings in the choir, that what he would have fled by all means in the church he now did in the theatre: singing a hymn to the hero with arms swinging up in the air as in charismatic worship. - Gathered in the tiny and beautiful, intimate theatre then the life of Amadis was being performed. Just a great enjoyable and amusing few moments.

We had spent the week on the farm, out in the countryside of the Franches-Montages, where fox and rabbit say good-night to each other - literally - and where the seasons consist of six months of winter and four months of cold. What fascinates, captures, comforts and encourages me there is the calm, the peacefulness, the self-evidence of nature and its "caprices", its uneven weather. The spirit blows where it wills, and so does the wind in the Jura. You wake up in the morning and go first to the window to see how much snow there is and whether it's blowing again - or still. First you don't want to go outside, you enjoy the coziness of the fireplace, the warmth of the house, the smell of morning milk coffee, the salty-smooth taste of tête-de-moine. Then, once you're outside, it's just and plain beautiful. The comforting beauty and continuity of unpredictability in exactly what the trees will look like, and the road, and the fields. And the steadfast calm of pine trees,  heavy with snow and withstanding the wind, bending over and back. A parable for life, mending in with the truth of love. Grace and beauty....

Hatred or progress

Last night while driving I listened to a program on Espace 2 about de-colonisation in Cameroun (Histoire vivante). It was very stormy outside, half snow half rain, and tons of snow blowing down from trees and I began to feel sick - then I realized it was the stories and voices of Western colonial masters and the excruciating disregard to human rights and dignity that made me feel sick. At the same time it was enlightening to hear about differences in legacies of colonialism. Recently I was reading Jean Ziegler's "La haine de l'occident". The demands for reparation is a real but relatively minor issue when you consider the wrongs done by Western arrogance to people all over the world. The West's favored vilains are Stalin, Hitler and Pol Pot. Yet it seems that it may be brought to realize that its own modern and post-modern ways has created as many victims in as cruel ways as those by well known dictators. Sure it's different, but one of the key elements of the distain found in non-Western cultures are the Western double-standards. The financial crisis may very well be a contribution in enlightening the world on how real progress is being hindered by greed, arrogance, and double-standards. Violence in short, not necessarily physical, but by neglect, deprivation and pressure or threats.

I do believe that real progress is possible when people both in the North, West, South and East realize they depend on each other and develop real regard and respect for each other, putting that before national or corporate interests.

Goods vs People

This weekend the Swiss people vote on whether or not to extend the European Union's freedom of movement for workers to Bulgaria and Romania. In principle this extension is a natural part of the Swiss agreements with the EU, of which Switzerland is unnaturally not a member, but has to negotiate its inter-dependence piece by piece. Some young Zealots have succeeded in demanding a referendum on this extension of free movement. They claim that crime will go up and unemployment, while the Swiss welfare system would be undermined. At the writing of this there is solid and increasing evidence that the referendum fails and that the extension of freedom of movement will prevail. Sigh...

In 1992 the Swiss had voted not to become a part of the European Economic Space and it cost them a very high prize. I for one am convinced that Swissair would never have been grounded, had the Swiss decided otherwise in 1992. Be that as it may, the stubborn pretention that we're better of when left alone and sealed of from the others - which of course is never real because those who pretend so always use "foreign" factory workers, laws, lands, and potential to increase their market share - but that stubborn pretention is like an old myth of an self-sufficient and self-contained island. We have goods, we don't need people, especially not those who are different from us. 

Today's sermon at my church was on Ecclesiastes (Kohelet) 2: the writer describes his unlimited wealth, his conquest of "all the women a man can want", fabulous gardens and unmatched knowledge. He says he had it all and was happy, except that when nothing further was there to be had, he fell into a deep depression. A further look at the book reveals a striking absence of any mention of people as in relationships. This guy had all the slaves and women (sic!) one could possibly have. People were part of his amassed and hoarded goods. Unlike JHWE who, at the completion of creation observed that "it was very good", this poor rich man at the completion of his kingdom realized that it was all in vain, no good and for naught. - Why? Because it never occurred to him that it is not goods but relationships that make sense in life. The Western crisis is not so much in the crashing of its financial system as it is in its preference of goods and services over people and relationships.

In that perspective the outcome of this weekend's Swiss referendum is a hopeful indication. It seems that after all we're not completely stupid.

Simone Weil born in 1909

Simone Weil, anarchist, philosopher, factory worker at Renault and writer was born 100 years ago. Her story touches me profoundly and increases my wondering and pondering of the relationship between identity, truth, self-realization, and sacrifice. The trajectory of Simone Weil is most fascinating. In order to be able to speak and write with integrity about the plight of factory workers in production lines, she took a job at Renault. As a philosopher she was in search of living truthfully rather than simply looking for self-fulfillment. Her search and journey led her onto a path of spirituality and an encounter with Christ. 

Looking at Simone Weil's story leaves me intrigued about at least two things:

1. Why it is that she seems to have gone practically unnoticed und unknown in Christianity and the Church. - Well, of course Anarchists never had any real place in the church.

2. What is her message in a time where Christianity disappears, to use the words of Emmanuel Todd, and where at the same time churches hold on tight to traditional theology and institutional faith; in a time when dogmatic theology and informal spirituality confront each other.

Personally I am challenged by Simone Weil's insistence to live in truth. The truth makes you free....

You may want to check out this Simone Weil website