I loved Cinque Terra–the water, the views, the colors, the gelato, the artists, a sip of water to push away the heat for which I was overdressed, the conversation with old man in the cafe where I bought a Coke, the oversized older woman in her bikini, the old men who change into their suits unobtrusively near the rocks at the edge of the shore, the beautiful young topless mom who played with her baby at the edge of the water oblivious to the others around them, seeing people welcome the gift of their lives, accepting their bodies for whatever they are, enjoying gorgeous moments in the midst of a glorious day.  A glimpse of wonder at the edge of water.

We have visited some of the most well known sacred spaces of our world--the Vatican, Wartburg Castle with Luther’s Chapel, Stavkirke churches of Norway, cathedrals and churches in Germany, Russia, Estonia, Finland, Sweden, and Italy adorned with frescos and beautiful statues and carvings, and yet, one of the most moving sacred experiences for me has been the celebration called “Rosencrance”--which happens every year on the first Sunday in October which I experienced in a tiny village in northern Italy called “Puffels”.  It is just outside the village of St. Ulrich/Ortisei, Italy about 3 kilometers almost straight up the mountain.  It is a village of guest houses for hikers and skiers.  It is a village of farmers, artisans and gardeners.  In the middle of the village is a pasture where cows graze.  Down the hill from our guest house the sheep roam, their bells clanging as they go.  It is a place that is gorgeous, where the community gathers for worship, good food, and rich traditions. It is a place where bells ring the hour of the day and the celebrations of life together.

Although we did not know of the holiday or the celebration, we happened upon it as temporary residents of this village on this day.  The first indications were the red banners hanging from the windows of our guest house, the house next to it, and some of the other houses and guest houses along our road.  The little chapel outside our door was decorated with candles and carpet and red roses.  We were told by the owner that there would be a procession from the small Catholic church down the hill around 9:30.  We waited.  Not knowing what to expect or what would happen–and then they began to assemble.  The crucifer, the banners, the brass in full native costume, the parishioners, the priest, the altar girls and boys–it was beautiful.  Up the hill they came, carrying their sacred processional things, marching and playing hymns until they came to the gathering place in the small square outside of our guest house in front of the chapel.

It was here that I could see clearly that the altar girl with the incense was the daughter of our hotel host family.  She smiled at us.  I watched.  The people prayed.  The priest proclaimed.  An older woman with a beautiful German brogue read.  And then they sang a song which I have known since I was a child…

Praise to the Lord, the Almighty,
the King of creation!
O my soul, praise him,
for he is our health and salvation!
Let all who hear
Now to his temple draw near,
Joining in glad adoration!

Praise to the Lord, who over all
Things is wondrously reigning
And, as on wings of an eagle,
uplifting, sustaining.
Have you not seen
All that is needful has been
Sent by his gracious ordaining?

Praise to the Lord, who will
Prosper your work and defend you;
Surely his goodness and mercy
Shall daily attend you.
Ponder anew
What the almighty can do
As with his love he befriends you.

Praise to the Lord! Oh, let all
That is in me adore him!
All that has life and breath,
Come now with praises before him!
Let the amen
Sound from his people again.
Gladly forever adore him!

Author: Ernewertes Gesangbuch
Tune: Lobe Den Herren
1st Published in: 1665

I was moved by all those voices lifted high on the edge of these beautiful mountains, praising God in Christ Jesus with a wonderful song of praise– in a foreign language–but with a melody that is known all over the world.  I was particularly moved by the familiar voices of our friends–especially Judy’s–which I often hear directly behind me in church singing the alto line and creating harmony of her own.  They were both singing the words of the song in their second language–and then praying the Lord’s prayer in that unfamiliar German tongue.  Unity and harmony in diversity.  I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and listened while quietly joining in with humming–the only thing I could offer the moment.

Young and old–the people of this village gathered, the cows stood at attention and watched, the grasses danced in the gentle breeze in the field, the flowers still bloomed in the meadow, the roses and geraniums filled the world with the beauty of red, and my favorite, a beautiful old woman bent over–unable to stand upright–who walked the entire route bringing up the rear of the procession dressed in her Sunday best and carrying her purse behind her.

Regardless of language, ethnic heritage, geographical location, young or old, rich or poor, male or female–we are Christ’s church together.

And it matters!

There is nothing more beautiful, more moving, or more enriching in the world than the people of the church being the body of Christ in the world–sharing grace, love, hospitality and hope in the name of the one who came to save us all.

God is on the loose among us!  May it always be so!  Amen!

People.  Lots of People.  Everywhere.  Like New York, it is a city that doesn’t sleep.  Ruins.  Beautiful buildings.  A city of mazes at the heart of it.  A trapezoid.  Walking down streets as wide as one car width.  Vendors everywhere.  Sidewalk cafes everywhere.  Lines everywhere.  Pizza at midnight.  Hotel rooms in annexes in alleyways.  Olives for breakfast.  Great coffee.  The Vatican.  The Sistine Chapel so filled with people it was hard to breathe.  Beautiful artwork.  Symbolism in everything.  Details everywhere.  The Basilica.  Enormous.  Gorgeous.  Fountains.  Lots of them.  Water–refreshing.  Pasta.  Any kind you might imagine.  White ragu made with pork.  Wonderful.  Gelato.  Everywhere.  Seven gelato cafes on our block.  Fountains.  Subways.  Crowded Subways.  Really crowded subways.  Taxis.  Beggars.  Well dressed business people.  Amazing shoes.  Red boots I loved for 629 euro–which are still at the store.  History.  Layers upon layers of history.  Spanish Steps–aka Stairway of the Trinity; The Coliseum; palaces; old cities uncovered under the new city; the Jewish ghetto; Beautiful cathedrals; the Pantheon, Bath house ruins.  A sweet Italian side alley cafe without tourists.  Amazing pizza.  Heat–high 80‘s into the 90‘s.  Scooters.  Vespas.  Bicycles.  Smart Cars.  Grace?  Lots of it.  Stories of it.  Experiences of it.  When in Rome…do as the Romans do.  We came.  We saw.  We ate and enjoyed.  Amazing place!

We arose early to catch a tender boat to shore near Nyashym–about an hour outside of Stockholm.  We spent the morning touring the usual historic sites of any city–and spent some time at the Vasa Museum where the Vasa, the crown ship of King Gustavus Adolphus has been brought from the depths of where it sunk in the sea on one of its maiden voyages.  A masterpiece.  The stories in the museum of life at that time–the community and what shaped Sweden including Lutheran theology was really interesting.  In truth, they did not fully understand Luther’s “saved by grace”–but over time things have changed.  We spent the afternoon on our own–walking through the narrow streets of Gamla Stan.  Beautiful.  We toured St. Jacob’s Church, ate amazing pizza at a little Italian restaurant, and perused the shops.  Of course no afternoon is complete without a little coffee and pastry which we found at an upstairs terrace.  The weather in Stockholm was wonderful–sweater weather.  I think one of the things that has struck me most as I wander through history, and current culture is the nature of people.  I love to hear little children speak different languages and see the curiousity that sparks in their eyes.  I love to watch toddlers enjoy ice cream, anywhere, anytime.  People were out walking with their families–strolling, biking, meeting friends–when there is peace in our homeland and love in our daily lives–we really couldn’t be more blessed.  I am so fortunate to have this experience of seeing, learning, grieving and growing.

The pictures include:  An overview of Stockholm, Streets of Gamla Stan; tender boat; people in Gamla Stan; View of housing from the outdoor terrace; A model of the Vasa; contemporary Stockholm and St. Jacob’s Church.