John and Vincent

Basel, Switzerland sits on the Rhine where France, Switzerland, and Germany meet. It was an early refuge for Reformed Protestants, and continued to have significance to our day, largely due to the work of twentieth-century reformed theologian Karl Barth, who was born in Basel, and lived and taught there most of his life.

John Calvin and his colleague Guillaume Farel took refuge here after having been expelled from Geneva in 1538 over a fight with the city council. (The presenting issue was the use of unleavened bread in the Lord's Supper, although there were longstanding larger issues such as the power of excommunication.) Calvin soon received an invitation from Martin Bucer to pastor a church in Strasbourg, so Calvin's stay in Basel was brief.

Basel was part of my itinerary from the start, but all the more so once I discovered that the Kunstmuseum in Basel was hosting a major exhibition of landscapes by Vincent Van Gogh. I have had a great attachment for Van Gogh's work, since having read Lust for Life in tenth grade. In 2000, I even took my kids out of school to drive 1200 miles so as to attend the Van Gogh exhibit in Los Angeles. The Basel exhibit was strong - over 70 Van Goghs - although it lacked most of the iconic Van Gogh landscapes. Even so, his work was faithfully presented, and the passion and intensity of his art was evident.

Van Gogh is a fitting companion on my pilgrimage. He was the son of a Dutch Reformed pastor, and even tried to launch a career in ministry himself. He was too much of a non-conformist to fit into the strict Dutch church culture. During a missionary stint in a poor coal mining town, he insisted on sharing the lifestyle of his parishioners, which meant abandoning the privilege of the manse to live in squalid conditions.

Nevertheless, Vincent's faith permeates his work, even during his decline into mental illness and ultimately, suicide. His final painting - now believed to be "Daubigny's Garden" - is a theological treatise on his looming death.

The oval planting at the center of focus is framed by three objects: the woman, the cat, and the gate. The woman in black (Daubigny's widow?), possibly signifying death, is approaching. The cat in the foreground, roughly sketched in black, almost with the appearance of afterthought, is an odd insertion, and is a symbol of impending doom. It is headed toward the white gate. The red roses at the gate connect visually with the church - a symbol of faith - which stands in the distance beyond the walls confining the artist. It suggests that the gate is leading to the church. It's not wise to read too much into the interpretation, but the implication here is that even as he contemplated death, Van Gogh found himself both separated from and drawn to the source of his faith. I'm sure his catechesis in the five points of Calvinism, including unconditional election and the perseverance of the saints, were not far from his thoughts.

I don't know the full extent to which Calvin (or more likely, Calvinism) influenced Van Gogh. I do know that both have deeply influenced me: Calvin by his rigorous intellect, realism about the human condition, and emphasis on divine grace; Van Gogh's by his intense sense of longing and dislocation, and his almost desperate attempt to hold the world and his faith together.

Sunday, I rest (the idea of six hours round trip on trains to the Alps is more than I can bear). Monday, I follow Calvin's student John Knox to Edinburgh and the Scottish Reformation.