Green Lake United Methodist Church

Methodist Founder felt Tradition was important, Do we?

In the Methodist movement tradition is considered one of the 4 elements we stand on as a church:  Scripture, Tradition, Reason and Experience.  But our traditional memory often seems short, going back maybe 60 years, until the “good old days” of the 50’s when a post-war church boom was alive and well.  We remember when our Sunday Schools were full as well as our pews on Sunday mornings, we remember rummage sales, holiday pageants and potlucks.  These are fond memories that warm our hearts and take us back to a sweeter time.  But what really makes a time sweet?  Is it the focus on our needs, our wants, our desires?  The church of the 1950’s was doing an amazing job of healing a broken country in the aftermath of World War II, but at some point we felt that that this was our pinnacle, yet the traditions of the church which were set aside in the wake of needing healing, seemed to be forgotten, and what was self-care became self-serving.  We forgot our spiritual and sacred roots, we forgot the practices that nurtured communities of faith for centuries and were the hallmark of the Methodist movement.

One of the reasons that Wesley included tradition in his 4 principles, was his keen insight into inviting the wisdom of those who came before him into the fullness of faith that was essential to this movement that encouraged its people to worship in any church on a Sunday, but experience the fullness of a life of faith within spiritual “methods.”  Daily prayer, scripture and a gathering of small groups for support in a real world encompassing all from pain to joy, were the essentials for Methodism, this methodical group who encouraged one another in faith.  His greatest worry was that this movement would become institutional, forgetting who and whose they are.

But if we think woe to our denominational church, let’s face it, it is merely a reflection of a culture that has formed in this country of great newness.  We are one of the youngest nations, having pushed the natives of this land to the margins, and brought in new people for this new country.  As a good chef I know once said, “we don’t ask for a good restaurant when seeking a recommendation, we ask for a new one.”  We are a people who move from house to house on average every 3 years, who change our wardrobe on average of 6 months to a year as fashion demands, and who fill garage sales, thrift stores and land-fills with our cast-off “old stuff.”  We are taught by politicians, advertisers, and economic “experts” that we are not people, but consumers, who must buy, buy, buy new, New, NEW everyday in order to make things well, it is our responsibility.  Little room here to be informed by tradition.

Yet what does this all do for our sense of meaning and purpose?  It seems as if our culture is denying that there is a wide and awesome possibility of existence here in God’s creation, we lose some things that have been essential to human tradition, and more so, traditions of faith.  Our meaning and purpose get tied to things like economy, work, and “getting away.”  We are so dragged down by daily life that we need to get away.

This was precisely what our early founder was seeking to remedy with the foundation of Methodist practices, the grinding daily life that pushes us to get away, to seek what is missing in our lives.  Daily practices of communication in small groups where the highs and lows of life were not only shared, but all were surrounded by loving support of one another.  Where the greatest part of this circle of people was the awareness that God IS present, through prayer and spirit this was reinforced each day.  The constant reminder that One, mysterious, all-knowing, all-loving is always present.  God above all names is with us in times of trouble and times of celebration.

Wesley borrowed ideas for his faith groups, for his movement from the traditions of old, he did not invent something “new” in the 1700’s – it should be a reminder to us all that what worked so well for early Methodists was not even new then.  The essentials of tradition have as much to teach us now as then.

In the past months I’ve been writing much of my time in Italy, a land where people seem to be drawn to when seeking their souls, seeking deeper meaning.  Just look at the books and movies that are so popular these days: ” Under the Tuscan Sun”, “Eat, Pray, Love”, “A Thousand Days in Venice,” “Letters from Juliette”…..  What does Italy have that we don’t?   It has tradition, rich tradition that the people embrace fully, in their daily lives, in their food, in maintaining culture.  For me, coming from the life of pastor,  the greatest elements of this traditional culture was the life lived publicly, where all stories of life are shared among friends who consult, comfort, and celebrate with one another.  And of course, the amazing depth of worship, traditional celebration of the sacred, and the ever present witness to faith of the people via their art.  The wonder of the art was that it was often used as a means for social commentary, criticism of institutional church, and the awesomeness of a God beyond explanation.  Most Italians I met, even those who don’t formally attend church are intensely spiritual, it is a good place to seek spirit and healing.

In such a new nation, can we find a depth of spirit that seems to leave us seeking other places to find it?  Can we dig deeper into our souls to move us beyond the trappings of our culture into a sense of eternal that looks both the the past as well as to the future?  Can we reclaim in our churches and institutions the heart and soul of what was so alive in the early church, in the renaissance, in the reformation??  Are we desperate enough for depth of meaning to make profound changes in our world that take us back to what is so important, the Love of God, others and self – sustained in community???

Penicale Piazza Sacred Art

Papa Pio, Caretaker to the poor in modern Italy, a recent saint can be seen in many surprising places, a reminder of contemporary faith lived out.

Assisi Art

Gubbio Tower

A favorite place I found where the little road became a winding stair with amazing arches

One of my favorite forms of literature is poetry, savoring its gentle rhythms naturally seems to slowly ease one into a depth of meaning far deeper than the common sentence structure can allow.  From children’s whimsical poetry to epic poems that tell grandiose stories, to romance and prophetic poems, all awaken someplace special in my soul.  In September we will worship utilizing biblical poetry drenched with meaning, from Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs and the prophets.  Thus the mind spins of poetry, poetic thoughts and poetic places.

On my trip to Italy I had one place I wanted to see almost more than any other, the town of Todi, where the poet Jacopone da Todi hailed from.  Jacopone was a Franciscan who did his best to live into St. Francis’ ascetic ways, but was deeply troubled by the transition of the Franciscan Order after the master’s death into a more worldly way of being.  However, given his openness of faith, Jacopone requested from the pope that there be (2) Franciscan orders instead of the one, with one being more dedicated to the Rule of St. Francis and one being the more modern/worldly one that had evolved in the decades since Francis’ passing.  The pope refused, and Jacopone, not only a good monk, but also a good poet responded in poetic form…whereby he was promptly excommunicated from the church.    It is fun to root for the rebel, and rather romantic to admire the rebel poet, and when in Italy that seemed so appropriate…

With great curiosity I planned for my trip to Todi, requesting the most scenic driving directions from my friend Martin, and immediately insulting him by asking to travel a different way than he suggested.  But being a gentleman he gave me alternative directions and advised I watch for town signs (not as easy as it may seem).  Off I ventured on the rainy day toward a town I would find buried in clouds perched high on top of a hill, out of view from the valley below.  One of the things I noted while in Italy was how unique each hilltop village was, for their unity of form, their function and details were characterized differently through architecture and building materials.  Todi seemed so ripe for being the birthplace of a poet and man of faith.

Of the many villages I visited Todi had the most uniquely tiny roads and walkways.  I even heard one American tourist say, “whar’s Louise? She must be takin’ more pictures of the damn alleys.”  I felt that poor man saw no beauty where Louise and I found mesmerizing entryways to the beautiful unknown… winding walkways that led to conversations with a sweet man walking his dog, finding hidden chapels and museums holding a depth of meaning.  And views, views that once the clouds flew away bespoke of the beauty of the Tiber river valley that my friend Martin had suggested I drive (I would return home that way).  It was an enchanting little village with art, sacred and mystery around every little corner, a perfect place for poetry of the every spinning heart and imagination to take place.

To create art must be aware of beauty, mystery and that which is greater than oneself, Todi is a perfect setting for all this, from natural beauty to the archetecture that invites the mind to wander as the feet must to get from one place to another through many entrances, archways, vistas and people living so densly they must be in fullness of relationship to survive.

Todi inivted me to contemplate how to open up to see the sacred in surprising ways, to live looking for whatever was around the next corner or through the next passageway.  It is an invitation to the intimate, who is going to be around the next corner?  What is going to appear down the narrow street/passage to the left, so the right?  Will it be a musty chapel with sweet art, a river valley opening up in grandure before you as the clouds part, or a puppy jumping all over and licking your face?  How to revel in the joy of the moment of sweet surprise, moments of grace and beauty is our call, to be awed by the wonder of God’s creation and translate the beauty for others.  Jacopone da Todi did this so well, expressing in his poetry his awakening to the love of God.  How can we share the awesome wonder, the invitation to all???

The cute puppy greeted me with kisses, and his owner kind words as I roamed the wet and beautiful streets of Todi

Love, infusing with light all who share Your splendor (from In Praise of Divine Love)

Love, infusing with light all who share Your splendor,
You teach us the true light
Is not to be found in the light of this world.

Light that enlightens, light that teaches,
He who is not illumined by You
Does not reach the fullness of love.

Love, You give light
To the intellect in darkness
And illumine the Object of love.
Love, Your ardor,
Which enflames the heart,
Unites it with the Incarnate One.

The tower stands boldy at the center of the village, welcoming the community home.

There is a quote/saying that a friend tripped about trying to explain to me of the importance of living life within the sounds/site of the village tower in Umbria, Italy.  Explaining that there is a depth of meaning to living one’s life being able to hear the sounds of the tower bell, and to view the clock – to be connected to the heart of town.  This actually does sound incredibly wonderful, to have such a connection to place and the people that share that place with you.

Myself, I have lived in over 30 houses/apartments/dwelling places in my life, moving from place to place with some amazing well honed packing skills.  At a certain point in my life I felt I wast forever seeking “home” and at a certain point I figured there may not be such a place for me.  But the sweetness of the concept has never left the back of my mind, and the thought of their being a very strong cultural saying regarding the importance of the tower certainly struck me.

It was fun hearing the saying long after I returned from my journey, for my companion had no idea that I had taken so many photos of the various towers in the various towns we passed through.  But when the concept of tower came up, it led me to ideas for two very different types of postings, this one on the importance of community, and a second to follow on the uniqueness of communities in Umbria, a geographically small area.

In Piegaro my heart was really stirred by the importance of the tower my last night there, Wednesday evening.  As we had gone back to the apartment to settle in for the evening I received a call from a congregation member in need of a listening ear, and so decided to step out for some privacy and just walk the streets while in conversation.  It was a beautiful night after a day of thunderstorms, lightening and rain that had kept many of us indoors and having fun at the caffe during the day.  The air was fresh with the moisture of the day, yet warm and comfortable, it felt good to walk and talk around the old part of the village, circling around even to some little streets I hadn’t been on before.  I was very aware of the tower and it’s clock listening to the chimes on the half hours and seeming to keep me company on a quiet night.  The people in the village had all gone in by this time and I could hear from the homes of the village the sounds of t.v. and conversations, all winding down at the end of their day.

When I returned to the apartment, it was my friend’s turn to be on a personal call, so I went out again, circling the town, slowly walking the streets.  I took a few photos of some of the art that graced the exterior of some of the walls, and would look up when the clock struck an hour or half past again.  I would peek in occasionally to find my friend still being the long-distance love and caring for family from half a world away, and I kept walking.  Piegaro is a small town, so I walked many of the streets over and over multiple times, wondering who liked the drama, comedy or action that I could hear on the t.v.s – I was already missing this place so much and yet I could hear and feel the life that was being lived, and I could see and hear the clock in the tower.  Time moved so gracefully for moving so rapidly, I know I checked in repeatedly at the apartment and was out for a couple of hours, yet it was so soothing, I walked past the tower many times.

The tower, the last thing I could see of the town when we drove toward Rome the following day, the first thing I saw when we approached Piegaro just a few weeks before.  I remember wondering if the sweet bells that called us to worship came from the tower rather than the church that sat beside it, and now know that I forgot to ask.  The tower that when we were in town always reminded me of the time so there was no need to keep track on my own.  A beautiful thing the tower.

In our own neighborhood in Seattle our church tower has a bell, but due to neighbor’s concerns it only rings on Sundays, just before worship.  From the inside of the church one can’t hear it at all.  The other bells I hear are from the school informing the children when it is time to begin and end the day, and when to go in or out for recess.  Last week after hearing the lovely phrase about the tower the bells of the school went off for an emergency drill.  As I listened to the mournful cry of the emergency siren, not really a bell this time, I thought to myself, “now is just a test of the emergency system, or the real thing, is there an emergency?”  So, I prayed, I prayed that there was no emergency, but if there was, than it was a good time to give thanks for my incredible life, a gift from God, for all the blessings, adventures and magic along the way, and I thought of the tower.

What would it be like to live, live a life always within the sight and sound of an ever-present tower over the community?

A fun shot of Colleen searching for me the day we lost each other after the Processione, what a good place to find someone!

The community gathered in front of the church, next to the tower to begin the Processione di Miracole.

Michelle's Shop with Daniella, Gloria and Colleen

Enrico reluctantly lets his picture be taken.

Anna with the Warmest Welcome

Matteo and supplier tending business at the grocery

I realized I forgot to do one last blog on the beautiful people of Piegaro, those fun folks who have the sweet shops in the center of the old section of Piegaro.  One of my favorite aspects of Piegaro is the strong sense of community that lives within the constant foot traffic of those coming to shop for their daily needs.  Each day you meet so many of the people of town in addition to the great shopkeepers.

Michelle, the butcher was closed much of the time I was in Piegaro while he was on vacation, but made up for it with his gracious, warm presence as I went with Colleen as she shopped for a meal to be shared with Villa guests.  He artfully carved the meat to a sweet thin slice that would melt in the mouth and in a way that no meat cutter, only a true butcher could master.  All the while he was greeting the constant flow of people who entered his shop for their daily meats, or one for daily meets, just to visit.  On my last, sad morning in Piegaro before I left Michelle was one of the 3 people who purchased part of my breakfast at Caffe Via Roma, I was truly touched by his warmth and generosity.

His next door neighbors are Anna and Enrico a delightful couple who operate  adjoining businesses, a flower shop and a news/magazine shop.  At any given time, other than siesta of course, you will find one or both attending the shops and doing their best to help out even the most crazy American visitor.  Anna’s shop is always perfumed with the most beautiful live flowers and cut flowers, and if you really want to see some amazing crafting of bouquets, just wander past the shop on Domenica dell’Ascensione as Anna prepared flowers for baptisms, confirmations and weddings.  Anna can best be described as a person who truly throws herself into everything, whether exuberant welcomes, or the crafting of beautiful bouquets, all is done with great flourish and wholeness of heart.  Anna lives large!  By contrast her husband Enrico is quiet, patient, and so shyly helpful that no matter what one asks for and the length of time it takes to translate/figure out what this crazy American is asking for, he’s with you doing the best he can, with a sweet smile.

Finally in this little cluster of shops is the grocer, Matteo.  Matteo has movie star good looks who seemed to have a wonderful knack of stumbling into my path at several points in my journey in Piegaro.   After our initial meeting when Colleen was giving me the village tour, I literally ran into Matteo as he was heading to the shop, apparently late one morning and I was wandering about taking a morning walk.  The next encounter was quite humorous as Colleen sent me off to get Carrots, and I didn’t know what they were called in Italian and could not find them with the fresh veggies.  “Carrots?” I asked, “Carrots?” he questioned back…..”nyaaa What’s up Doc” I said doing my best Bugs Bunny impersonation.  “Ah, Carote” and he found a very Trader Joe’s package of the orange delicacies for me.  I think that established my street cred as a weirdo, and I truly appreciated that he always seemed amused after that…perhaps waiting for another imitation…hmmmm perhaps next year I pull out Mickey Mouse for something, except I know Formage ???

Finally something that touched my heart in the center of old town was the amazing Museo Del Vetrio, the Museum of Glass.  Piegaro has been a glass town since the 13th century, with a rich tradition of bottle making.  In the last few years they have opened this wonderful museum, but my understanding it came to life under the leadership of their new curator, Chiara.  We entered the museum on Mother’s Day, with the children outside selling their glass wares, made in classes taught at the museum, and others selling Italian traditional azaleas as a breast cancer fundraiser.  Wow, great community builder before stepping into the building!  But once inside the building there was a wonderful array of historical displays mixed with art created from the village glass to artfully presented arrangements of glass.  The museum is a place of education, community and beauty, truly one of the best “industrial” museums I have ever seen.  When I mentioned how wonderful it is, and that she is a great curator, Chiara blushed and said, “I am blessed to be able to do the work I studied for and love.”  Truly blessed are all who get to experience this place, and Chiara’s blessing is ours as well.

So ends the blogs on the people of Piegaro, it ends where it started, with my deep awareness that the answer to the tourist’s question to me in Assisi, “what was the most wonderful thing in Italy for you?”  It was, is, and will always be the people, the heart and soul of this country of heart and soul. It is a people rooted in centuries of community, work and worship.  It is people who bring beauty to the sacred, and acknowledge the blessings in their lives.  It makes me wonder if a country like ours, with such a short history and an average of citizens moving every 3 years, can go as deep into community and relationship.  And finally how do we make the most of our spirituality within our culture – in Christian terms, how can we most love God and neighbor – to the fullest in our daily life and in our neighborhood, being the most wonderful thing about our neighborhood, community, city, state and country.

Museo del Vetro displays over 700 years of glass making in PiegaroThe youth of Piegaro sell some of the glass art they created for Museo Fundraiser Festa Della Mama