Lent 2019

Okay so. For Lent this year I want to get back into the habit of writing. My grand plan is to post once a day to this lovely blog of mine. Goal: write something and hit publish. Sooo...well it's 11pm on Ash Wednesday and you can see how far I've gotten with this scheme; I think it's safe to say I'm not ready to announce it to the world yet. So if you are reading this because you've set up an RSS feed or something (I'm looking at you, Dan), just...maybe ignore me for a little bit, ok? Thanks. Back very soon with something more substantial, I hope.

Episode 3.6: A Swiss saint (and human rights)

The cell and chapel of St. Nicholas of Flüe, in Flüeli-Ranft, Sachseln (Canton Obwalden), Switzerland. After 6.5 years here I still get struck by the feeling that I'm walking around in a postcard.

Pretty much anyone I’ve talked to in the last few weeks has had to endure my Bruder Klaus story, and since the overlap between “people I talk to regularly” and “people who might read this blog” is pretty substantial, this means that you, dear reader, may have already had to endure this. In which case, feel free to skip ahead.

So this year, the protestant church in Switzerland is celebrating 500 years since the Reformation; the Catholic church, in what feels like retaliation but could potentially be just a happy coincidence (?) is celebrating 600 years since the birth of St. Nicholas of Flüe, aka Bruder Klaus, the patron saint of Switzerland.

Bruder who? I was relatively clueless. But I was on duty for the preschool church service a couple of weekends ago, and I figured hey, win-win situation: I’ll do Bruder Klaus as a theme, then I’ll get to learn what the big deal is.

I made this mistake once before, when I decided to do a service on saints, and I thought we’d ask the kids “what do you want to be when you grow up?” and then talk about how saints are role models for our faith just like teachers and firemen are role models for our careers. The catch, of course, being that when I thought about models of piety for the under-6 set, I wasn’t really considering the many gruesome ways one could die for one's faith...

So I started reading about Bruder Klaus, and the story at first seemed similarly…tricky. Bruder Klaus had visions, his first when he was still in his mother’s womb. He sustained bodily injuries from fights with the devil. He survived for many years eating nothing but the Holy Eucharist. He once put out a fire with the power of prayer. He abandoned his family, though modern versions of his tale take great pains to point out that his wife was totally on board with this, making her something of a saint in her own right. I worried that I'd never be able to summarize this for the kids. But I eventually came to a version of the story I was pretty happy with – and frankly, I'm sort of proud of getting here, so here you go.

Bruder Klaus (for Preschoolers) (by Me)

Once upon a time in Switzerland, there was a family of farmers. Their last name was “von Flüe." The von Flüe family had a son, and named him Niklaus.

Hi, I'm Niklaus, and these are the verdant hills of Switzerland, where I lived 600 years ago.

Niklaus led what, for his time, was a very normal life. He grew up on his family’s farm, and as a young man he served in the army. When he returned from fighting, he married a woman named Dorothea. Together they built a new farm, and had ten children.
But Niklaus was special. Even as a child, people noticed that he had a close relationship with God. He often spent time alone, praying. And there was something else: he had visions. Visions are like dreams, but they don’t only happen at night – sometimes they appear in the middle of the day. Sometimes Niklaus saw beautiful things in his visions; sometimes they were very frightening.

A scary vision, courtesy of Christopher, who is sort of disturbingly good at drawing devils?

Niklaus knew that his visions were sent by God, and as he got older he wanted to spend more and more time alone in prayer. When he was 50 years old, he decided to leave his work and his family and dedicate his whole life to God. Dorothea understood and accepted his decision – she and the children could look after the farm.
At first, Niklaus thought he should be a pilgrim. He started walking towards Basel, but his visions told him that this wasn’t the right way to go. So a few days later, he came back towards home, and started living alone in the woods, not far from his house. His friends built him a simple hut to live in. He lived there for the rest of his life, praying and fasting.
It became known far and wide that Niklaus had a special connection to God. People started coming to the hut in the woods, asking him for advice or prayer. Poor people, sick people, rich people, even soldiers – Niklaus talked to everyone who came to him and helped them. He became known as “Bruder Klaus.” His friends built a chapel next to his hut, so that he and his visitors could pray and go to Mass. Even after Bruder Klaus died, people came to his hut and his chapel to search for comfort and healing from God.
Today, 550 years later, people still do.

The End. Do you like his ten kids? I was proud of that.

Bruder Klaus has really grown on me. I like that he lived a pretty relatable life, and that he had the courage to follow God’s call to something different when it came. (I always like stories of people who find their calling late in life, it gives me hope that I may yet find mine!) There's lots more to it, of course - the content of his visions, for one, and the historical reality of the whole thing. The weekend after the aforementioned service (lesson learned, do NOT include plastic farm animals in your puppet show if you want the kids to pay attention to anything else), I found myself with a free afternoon, and on something of a whim hopped on a train to Sachseln and followed the trail up the hill (which I could do because, Switzerland!).

Follow the yellow brick road pointy signs.

The walk was quite quiet, with beautiful views of the lake. I passed a handful of other walkers. I'm not sure what I expected to find at the top - surely a few more people, but not...crowds milling about! Tour buses! A brass band playing in an open-air church! The whole nine yards of tourist attraction, including a little gift shop that sold ice cream and water and religious articles. The farmhouses where Bruder Klaus was born and lived are right there, open to visitors. And down the hill, in the ravine where he lived, is the famous hermitage attached to a little church.

It was less a religious experience than an exercise in feeling...bewildered? We just don’t have this kind of religious tourism in the U.S. (for starters, only Native Americans could possibly even have 600-year-old religious sites). Mystical visionaries and holy hermits aren't part of my daily life. What were all these people here to see? For that matter, what I was I here to see?

A mural from one of several churches near the hermitage of Bruder Klaus. The cliffs in the middle of the picture represent Switzerland, protected by angels and Bruder Klaus himself (middle right) from the destruction of World War I (horrific piles of skulls, right and left). Around the edge reads: “In 1914, as the world war brought death and destruction, we asked God for your intercession. Praise and thanks to you Holy Bruder Klaus. Our precious fatherland was miraculously spared and protected.” 

Coming out of the lower church, I ran into a woman from my choir (because, again, Switzerland). She's like 80 years old and sings in two choirs and plays the violin and travels all over and walked back up the hill faster than I did, without breaking a sweat. I ended up riding the train back to Zurich with her and her similarly astounding friend; they pointed out places they'd lived and visited and I was struck not for the first time by the Swiss sense of connection to "home" as a fixed place, another thing I have a very different experience of. They're both protestant and were curious whether I, as a Catholic, really believed that thing about how Bruder Klaus survived on the Holy Eucharist alone. I sort of shrugged, my German level still being nowhere near what would be required to spontaneously discuss what I really think about the matter, which is...well, it can't be physically true in my reality, but maybe physical truth isn't what it was about? And maybe there are other valid realities out there?

After enduring the long version of this story, Dan sent me this article in the Atlantic, which considers the question: why don’t people see visions and hear God’s voice any more? James Kugel says that in biblical times people's concept of "self" was actually different than ours; they didn't think of their own minds as self-contained units. This left space in their self-conception for "God" to enter. What he says at the end of the interview is fascinating:

I think I have an idea of what ancient Israelites might say about us, once the shock wore off. Quite apart from our living in a world in which God plays no obvious part, they would be astounded at encountering a sense of self that is just huge, virtually filling the heavens. Each of us would seem to them so important, so big! Their sense of self was far more collective than ours; their own existence was tightly connected to that of siblings and cousins and clan-mates far and wide, and who they were was very much defined by who they came from as well as by their inherited social roles. All this, quite apart from semipermeability, simply made them much smaller than we are today. In fact, from this perspective the semipermeable mind was just another aspect of human smallness. I think the challenge facing religions in the West nowadays is to try to help people shrink down to a more realistic size, and then to let the divine take over where the human leaves off. 

That is the challenge facing more than just religion, I think. But with that, back to theology class. We spent one whole evening on the UN Declaration of Human Rights, including, as a fun exercise, actually reading the whole thing out loud in class. This made me sad, in a formerly-ignorant-and-faced-with-reality sort of way. The question on the theology class table was, are human rights the new Ten Commandments? And pretty clearly, no? I see the connection - here are some basic rules that we all agree to. But the Declaration is so…long. And uninspiring. And impractical. And clearly the product of precisely the sort of paternalistic euro-centrism that we need to be working ourselves away from, not deeper into. And of course the Church is only sorta on board with the whole thing…those pesky problems with the whole women-are-equal thing. But what made me saddest is the whole thing is terribly dependent on the concept of the independent nation-state: if everyone would just take care of their own, it seems to say, all our problems would go away. Glaringly absent from the list of human rights is the right to free movement between countries. Unless you have money, naturally. I am painfully aware of my privilege here. We moved here because of a good job opportunity, because it would be a good experience for our children – but we were hardly suffering at home. People seeking the most basic chance to provide for their families and raise their children in safety are called invaders and turned away at the border.

I understand why immigration scares people, particularly here in Switzerland. Just look at a map - how can a nation of 8 million people with five national borders and four official languages (!) maintain a national identity in the face of wave after wave of foreigners with even more different languages, traditions, and values? What does “Swiss” even mean if a Swiss person doesn’t have to speak a regional dialect, or have roots in the country, or go on a hike every Sunday, or identify with hundreds of years of religion and history? If we have to share our privileges with everyone who crosses our border, won’t there be less to go around?

I don’t know the answer to these questions. But I know that jealously hoarding our wealth and privilege, turning away economic migrants (particularly when we have jobs available, but we're worried about the bad influence their foreignness is going to have on our precious culture) is unjust and corrosive. Could we ever shrink our enormous national egos down to a realistic size, to the point where we as nations could do what is right and trust the divine to sort out the rest?

September 25 was actually the feast day of Nicholas of Flüe, so it seems reasonable to finish with his most famous prayer:

Mein Herr und mein Gott, nimm alles von mir, was mich hindert zu dir.

My Lord and my God, take everything from me that keeps me from you.

Mein Herr und mein Gott, gib alles mir, was mich führet zu dir.

My Lord and my God, give everything to me that leads me to you.

Mein Herr und mein Gott, nimm mich mir, und gib mich ganz zu eigen dir.

My Lord and my God, take me from myself, and give me completely to you.

Episode 3.5 Power, Violence, and Parenting

The file I use for my blog drafts is totally a metaphor for my life – a hundred great beginnings that go strong for a paragraph or two and then fizzle out. Like my three degrees and my short-lived careers in engineering and public service and…well the Swiss project is ongoing, and there have been some hopeful flickers lately, but many days it seems positively quixotic. There’s always the voice in my head that says please. Stop. Move back to the States. Get a real job. Let your kids grow up with their kind.

But like the black socks song, something (else?) inside me keeps saying “not yet.” So, onwards.

The next class session was about power and violence, defined as follows:

• Power is the ability to make something happen. Power is like potential energy – neither inherently good nor inherently bad. It’s when power is transformed into action that good or harm results. 
• Violence, on the other hand, is an act of destruction - the use of power to cause harm. Violence can by physical, of course, but also spiritual, emotional, structural, symbolic, self-destructive... 

The connection between these definitions and theology goes something like this. God is the prime lover and creator; God’s love is creative, not destructive. Violence = destruction = an act against God = sin. Or something like that; that part went a little fast, but it was in a way peripheral – I think the point of the chapter was to describe a Christian ethical approach using secular words. The conclusion was that we should embrace (drum roll please…) a “preferential option for creative nonviolence.” Of course it sounds even fancier in German: die vorrangige Option für schöpferische Gewaltfreiheit.

What does this mean?

• “Nonviolence” is the whole idea that power and violence aren’t the same thing, that it is in fact possible to effect change without hurting or demeaning anyone.  
• And “creative” doesn’t just mean imaginative and original – it’s more active than that: creative means participating in the act of creating. This is about undertaking things that increase the amount of faith, hope, and love in the world.
• The “preferential option” thing comes from liberation theology and the “preferential option for the poor,” which, as I understand it, goes something like this: Jesus got more specific than “love your neighbor as yourself.” Feed the hungry, he said; welcome the stranger, care for the sick. Blessed are the poor. In the game of worldly power, the wealthy get to choose first; the poor get whatever remains. In the kingdom of God, the poor come first. Our job as Christians is to work towards the kingdom of God, therefore, we too should put the poor first. When I hear “option” I think of a set of choices you can make. And I think there's an element of that: stop. think. is there more than one way to react here? But in the end “option” really refers to the verb – to opt, to choose. “Preferential option” means making an active choice: to defend and support the least fortunate in society, in the case of liberation theology; in our ethical principle, to effect positive change without violence. 

So if "love your neighbor as yourself" has those pesky problems with love, the "preferential option for creative nonviolence," as buzzword-y as it sounds, is meant to encourage us to consider the different ways we could approach a situation, and choose the one that is the most create-ive and the least violent. Seems like a good plan.

When we talk about ethics, somehow we always have to dig into the Big Ethical Questions – assisted suicide, or abortion, or whatever. I don't want to go there. Anyway do we really live such pure, uncomplicated lives that we have to reach into the heart-wrenching problems of others to find ethical problems to discuss?

Here’s something that happens in my very house, oh, two to ten times daily.

Kid does something that annoys parent. Parent demands that kid stop. Kid doesn't stop. Parent tells kid that if they don't stop, there will be a punishment. Kid still doesn't stop. Parent punishes kid. Kid kicks/screams/mouths off during punishment. Parent gets angrier, and tells kid that if he doesn't stop screaming, there will be more punishment. Kid gets angrier and fights back. Kid is punished more severely. Negative spiral ensues.

I really struggle with this. On the one hand, I hate it. In both my family of origin and the family I have now, this effort to get the kids to "show some respect for your elders" seems to have had mostly the opposite effect. It’s about instilling fear, not respect. My children are people, not dogs. On the other hand, I’m dreadful at setting boundaries and it shows in how exhausted I am at the end of the day. My kids act spoiled and entitled. And how ARE they going to learn if there aren’t negative consequences for bad behavior?

Does my shiny new ethical motto have anything to contribute here? The classic view of parenting is that the power of a parent is to punish, and the duty of a parent is to apply that power to train their children to behave properly. It sounds so straightforward! Lots of people swear they were raised this way and came out fine! But that punishment is violence. Even if it isn't physically violent - that's out these days -  it's emotionally violent: the idea is make the consequences of an action so dreadful that the child will make a different choice in the future.

But what would parenting with "creative nonviolence" look like? When the kids start driving me crazy, I've been trying extra hard lately to make that conscious effort to stop and think things through before reacting. What other power do I have? I have the power to set a good example for them, to model the behavior I’d like to see. (Note to self: put that phone down. No really. Now.) I have the power of their trust – when I suggest other outlets for their energy, they’re likely to give them a try. I have the power of being able to see the bigger picture. Is the kid hungry? In need of some outside time? Trying to get attention? I can try help them name their own needs and get them met without resorting to bad behavior. I have the power to name my own needs, and find ways to get them met before I myself have a meltdown. And I have the power of time on my side. It sure FEELS like I'm going to have to deal with this crap for the rest of my days but the fact is, no matter what parenting decisions we make, the kids are going to grow up. Their frontotemporal lobes will mature. They may even eventually demonstrate some self-control.

…I hope. I’d love to say that these deep insights have turned me into the kinder, gentler poster parent and my kids are now perfectly behaved even though I don’t scream at them anymore. Ha! Nope. Some days I feel like I’m having some success, many days things spiral out of control anyway, and I can only pray that the kids will turn out fine despite my many mistakes. In the end I guess there’s always the power of forgiving ourselves, and trying again tomorrow.

Episode 3.4: The Trouble with Love

The first section of the reading material for this class was titled Das Elend des Liebesgebotes. Elend means misery and Liebesgebot is the commandment to love, but I’d translate the heading more like “the trouble with love.”

So at least one of the troubles with love is that I am still not clear what the trouble with love is. What I thought I read was that love sounds great on paper and in sermons: love yourself, love God, love your neighbor, build bridges not walls, work towards peace, and so on. Super. But in practice, it’s not much to stand on: the verb “to love” encompasses a huge range of different, and even contradictory, actions, to the point that the command “love!” (by itself, anyway) may only elicit the response, “but how??”

This was on the weekly test, and when I proudly (if haltingly and with dreadful grammar, as usual) regurgitated what I had read, the instructor said: nope, totally wrong. The trouble with love is that you can love all day and all night and with your whole heart, but you can’t make anyone else do it. Act with love, and everyone will just walk all over you.

Normally I’m unsurprised to be told that I’ve missed something – reading in German is like listening to a conversation under water, it’s all very fuzzy – but I truly didn’t get that. Let’s say, maybe, that there’s more than one problem with love…?

The rest of this lesson dealt with the basic social competencies that allow us to interact with other humans:
a.     Self-image and self-presentation
b.     Ability to imagine yourself in the other person’s role (social empathy)
c.     Ability to separate people (both yourself and others) from their societal roles
d.     Ability to tolerate ambiguity
e.     Imagination and curiosity about the other person’s feelings (ethical empathy)

This discussion was accompanied by the following somewhat impenetrable graphic, which made me giggle so here it is for you too:

Your guess is as good as mine.

The plus sign, for example, indicates ethical empathy…got it??

This was another one where I was sort of stumped at first, but found myself thinking about it as the weeks went on. I’m a disaster in the area of self-image, and probably as a result of that I have real anxiety around social roles - but I like to think I’m pretty cool with ambiguity. The typical Swiss person is almost the opposite, very grounded and very confident in their social role(s) but super twitchy around ambiguity. That’s why all the trains run on time here! In support of this observation I submit this test my daughter brought home from school. She was supposed to draw the axes of symmetry through each of the shapes. The teacher’s comment at the top is, “points deducted for inaccuracies.” Can you find them?

"UNGENAUIGKEITEN!" Oh, if this teacher were ever to see our apartment...