The Practice of Pilgrimage

Noyon, the birthplace of John Calvin, lies some 50 miles northeast of Paris. It is a city with a long history, situated on the ancient Roman Via Agrippa. Its name comes from the Latin novus magus, roughly translated as "new market" in recognition of its prime location on the Oise River in the breadbasket region of Picardy.

The fertile fields of Picardy have seen more than their share of battles: After the Romans conquered it came the Normans, then Charlemagne. It was a center of activity during the Hundred Years' War, and more recently suffered heavy damage in both World Wars. The first World War saw the town Cathedral (established in the seventh century) suffer catastrophic damage. The home reputed to be Calvin's birthplace also suffered irreparable harm. Both buildings (and much of the rest of the ancient city) were reconstructed to restore the traditional Neo-Gothic style to this quaint village.

Which is all preface to saying that Noyon is a small place with a big past. And I mean small. You can walk every street in town (many of them are historically preserved or restored) in about an hour. There are no public restrooms to be found -- a common problem in Paris as well. I did happen to witness a guy in a park wander over to what I thought were restrooms only to see him urinate on the side of a building. Another aspect of small town life in France is that the entire city, with the exception of restaurants and the cathedral, shuts down between Noon and 2 p.m. Which isn't good when you have left the restaurant and a thunderstorm hits.

But the big past, not the small town, is the reason for the pilgrimage. The cathedral is an impressive religious site in its own right. It hosts a placard listing the name of every presiding priest since St. Medard in the early sixth century. Charlemagne and Hugh Capet are said to have been coronated on that site (in a predecessor building). It hosts (to this day) the baptismal font in which the infant John Calvin was received into the visible church.

But I didn't go there for the cathedral, although it was a pleasant surprise. I didn't even go because of the Musee John Calvin located there (a good thing, since the museum is, to put it mildly, a dud). I went because Noyon is the place where John Calvin was born and raised. His experiences there laid the groundwork for his eventual desire to reform Catholicism.

And I learned something about pilgrimages: you don't make them in order to "get something" out of the experience. You make them to bear a witness to the past in order to be a witness for the future. And I bore witness to the miraculous grace of God that can make a John Calvin rise from such a town as this. As it turns out, the Protestant movement in Noyon didn't last past the St. Bartholomew's day massacre less than a decade after Calvin's death. In my tour of the city, I could not find a single Protestant church today.

Noyon has many things of which to be proud in its historic past, the birth of John Calvin among them. But to judge by the town today, I think they wouldn't put Calvin's birth at the top of the list. I would. And I went. And I witnessed. And that's what it's all about.

The Site of the Martyrs

I write this post from the American Church in Paris, my hosts for the next eight days or so. The church is on an important historical site. When the infamous St. Bartholomew's Day massacre occurred in August 1572, thousands of French Huguenots (Reformed Protestants) were slaughtered. The massacre began on the East side of the Louvre, then the palace of Charles IX, whose sister had just married Henri of Navarre, a Protestant. The king's mother was Catherine de Medici, a staunch Roman Catholic whose native land had become embroiled in ongoing battles between Catholics and Protestants. She found the marriage to a Protestant unacceptable, and had been advised that since the Huguenots had all gathered to celebrate the marriage of a royal to a Protestant, it would be easier to pre-empt any potential uprising by massacring them then and there. A signal was issued (a small bell, rung by Catherine, and repeated by the church bells of St. Germain l'Auxerrois) and the killing began. Most of the killings happened by the river, and the bodies began washing ashore downstream, on the site of what is now the American Church. The church is literally built upon the witness of the martyrs.

This morning, my host, the Rev. Dr. Scott Herr, shared with me the stories of the early struggles of the Protestant community in Paris as we traveled to St. Germain des Pres (a different church than St. Germain l'Auxerrois), where the Protestant reformation in Paris began. In the abbey of this, the oldest church building in France -- dating to the sixth century -- Jacques Lefevre translated the Bible from ancient Greek manuscripts. The discrepancies between them and the Latin Vulgate moved him to support the nascent reformation movement. Among his pupils was William Farel, who influenced Calvin to reform the Geneva church, and it is said he was visited by Calvin himself on Calvin's flight from France.

The nearby area became a Protestant neighborhood, and the first

synod was organized to perform Protestant baptisms at No. 4, Rue des Marais, situated over catacombs that were thought to give them protection from a possible raid. The site is now an art gallery, and the owner graciously allowed us to go downstairs to where the baptisms took place. I am amazed it isn't recognized as a historical site here.

I am still processing my thoughts and feelings about this introduction to the history around me. I am reminded about what my friend and colleague Bill Chapman wrote about the Book of Order, that "it has blood on every page." In this case, however, the blood is real, and the witness of the martyrs lives on. The oppression of Protestants in Paris, and France generally, led Calvin to seek a safer place to live -- which, by Providence and William Farel's persuasion, was Geneva. However, the expatriate French Protestants in Geneva never were far from their brothers and sisters in France, and Calvin and the Geneva Council designated as much as one-fourth of the offerings of the Geneva Church to their support.

Tomorrow, I visit the birthplace of Calvin in Noyon. Thunderstorms are forecast.

It's Been a While...

It's been a while since my last post. I have been mixing rest, study, family responsibilities, and trip preparation over the last two weeks. I enjoyed several very productive study days at Highlands Presbyterian Camp and Retreat Center (thank you, Maria!) before and after a trip to Minnesota to witness my daughter Bethany's graduation from Carleton College. I managed to work through significant portions of Book IV of the Institutes, as well as portions of the historical compendium of Reformed polity documents in David and Joseph Hall's Paradigms in Polity. I was both affirmed and chagrined to note that David Hall had anticipated many of my own conclusions about Reformed polity in his introductory article.

There have been a few minor changes to my plans: the presentations I was to give at the American Church in Paris have not panned out due to an overbooked schedule at the church. I may (or may not) preach there on June 28, and/or have an informal conversation with interested church members on Monday, June 29. In any case, they are still hosting me as their "theologian-in-residence" for which I am grateful. In many ways this is the best of both worlds: I benefitted from having a focus and a deadline for my preparatory studies, but do not have to carry the burden of anxiety that comes with developing and delivering formal presentations.

Now to follow up on a few earlier thoughts about ecclesiology and polity. I had described the three dimensions of life in the koinonia that bear on polity as Spirit, power, and community. Here, Spirit refers to the affirmation that the church is a unique kind of organization in that its primary function is spiritual; it is formed and sustained by the Spirit of Christ -- the Holy Spirit. The traditional "notes" of the church -- that it is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic all derive from the work of the Spirit in the church. In scripture, the birth of the church is connected with the gift of the Spirit: in John 20:19-23, Jesus breathes on the disciples and says, "Receive the Holy Spirit." At that time he also gives the church its mission: "As the Father has sent me, so I send you...." Likewise, the gift of the Spirit at Pentecost in Acts inaugurates the evangelistic mission of the church "first in Jerusalem, then in Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth" (Acts 1:8). As a spiritual community, the church seeks to give effect to the will of God, not the will of the church members or officers.

The second dimension is power. People are reluctant to speak about power in the church. We are encouraged to have the mind of Christ who emptied himself of status and power and became a humble servant. By power I don't mean the abuse of power, but the exercise of authority (given by Christ to the church -- John 20 and Acts 1, again) within the organization to accomplish its ends in a manner consistent with its spiritual identity and values. The letters of Paul, for example, are an exercise of apostolic authority to address issues in the various churches he planted. "Power" and "Pastoral" are not antonyms!

The third dimension is community. There is a sense of mutuality and interdependence in the church that Paul described as "the Body of Christ." This community is created and infused by the Spirit -- Ethicist Paul Lehmann described the koinonia as "the fellowship-creating reality of Christ's presence in the world." This community is part of the church's witness to the world -- "They will know you are my disciples by your love for one another."

We see each of these three dimensions at work in the apostolic church:

SPIRIT

-For the discernment of God’s will (Acts 15)

-To promote and facilitate the mission of the church (Acts 8)

-To confirm the call, gifts, and work of the Spirit (Acts 6, 8)

POWER

-To assure the equitable and just treatment of God’s people (Acts 6)

-To correct error (Acts 5)

-To preserve order (Acts 11)

COMMUNITY

-To be “the provisional demonstration of what God intends for all of humanity” (Acts 2)

-To demonstrate the unity of the Body of Christ (connectionally) (Acts 11)

-To facilitate reconciliation (Acts 9)

-To build one another up in love (Acts 20)

Calvin had much to say about all three dimensions of the life in the koinonia. I will reflect on some of his comments in future posts.

More thoughts on ecclesiology

A busy weekend at home in Greeley... and now back to blogging!

In a previous post I mentioned my upcoming presentations at the American Church in Paris.  I have refined them a bit more:  the theme of the presentations is "Spirit, Power, and Community: on Being the Church."  Today I would like to introduce the Bible study, "Life in the koinonia: Biblical Foundations for Church Order" which looks at the nature of the church in the New Testament.  

Paul Minear has identified more than fifty models and metaphors of the church in the New Testament.  In my presentation, I am focusing on just four:  the two dominant models in the NT, the church as the People of God and as the Body of Christ, plus two which have received modern currency:  the church as the New Humanity and as the Missional (or apostolic) Community.  The New Humanity model is prominent in feminist and liberationist ecclesiologies; the Apostolic Community model has been embraced by the "missional church" movement.

Two of these models, "People of God" and "New Humanity" are essentialist models:  they describe the community primarily in terms of what they are; whereas the other two, "Body of Christ" and "Apostolic Community" describe the church according to how they function.  If one wishes to take it a step further, the "essentialist" models describe the church in terms of the wisdom / reign of God traditions of the gospels, whereas the "instrumental" or "functional" models found their descriptions on the Christ/redeemer traditions of Acts and the Pauline epistles.  

Of course, these are ideal, foundational models.  None of them is perfectly comprehensive, and they are not discrete categories.  Most importantly, however, they are ideals, and function (to borrow a phrase) more as "aspirational goals" than as "pragmatic realities."  The church has a dual divine and human nature to it -- it is a spiritual community consisting of human beings.  In his exhortation on The Necessity of Reforming the Church, Calvin described the dual nature of the church:

[Church] order, including the sacraments, resemble the body; whereas the doctrine, which prescribes the rule for the right worship of God and point out the ground on which the conscience of men must base their confidence in salvation, is the soul which animates the body and renders it lively and active, and in short makes it other than a dead and useless corpse.”   In J.K.S. Reid, ed. Theological Treatises. Library of Christian Classics. (Philadelphia: Westiminster) 1954, p. 20.

The church requires a structure to give shape to its life; it requires Spirit to give life to its shape. 

On earth, at least, it always exists as a concrete personal and organizational reality.  Just as Jesus, as a divine/human being, was subject to the limits and complexities of embodiment, so the church, as a divine/human society, is subject to the limits and complexities of organizational life. 

As an organization, the church exhibits qualities and functions that are inherent in organizations:

• It adopts an identity that is sustained in part by enforcing organizational boundaries.
• It functions according to a self-identified mission and purpose
• It develops core technologies that define how it achieves its mission and purpose
• It defines and enforces relational norms and distributes power in the system
• It relies on decision-making structures

This sphere of incarnate, organizational life, is the arena of polity.  Here, the three essential elements of Spirit, power, and community find their balance and expression.

Initial thoughts on Ecclesiology

First, let me apologize for not posting yesterday -- the internet crashed in the home where I am staying.  

These three weeks before the travel portion of my sabbatical are being spent in study and retreat (except for some family obligations).  I am immersing myself in Calvin and Knox -- Book IV of the Institutes, the Ecclesiastical Disciplines, some biographical and historical materials, plus some modern books on ecclesiology.  During my initial stop in Paris, I am being asked to lead two sessions at the American Church in Paris as "theologian-in-residence":  a bible study on the Nature of the Church and a workshop on Calvin's Legacy for Church Order.  Since I tend to be deadline- and task-driven, this has helped focus my preparations.

Much has been made recently of "the missional church movement."  The moniker "missional church" was coined by Darrell Guder, now Professor of Missiology and Ecumenism at Princeton Theological Seminary.  Put broadly, the movement is a response to the challenges raised by the disestablishment of the church in a post-Constantinian age that redefines the church not in terms of structure, but action.  Instead of saying, "The church of Christ establishes its mission" the missional church inverts the order and says, "The mission of Christ establishes its church."  In other words, the "true church" (to use Reformation language) exists only where the mission of God (missio Dei) is being performed.  Some contrast this "participatory" understanding of mission with the "instrumental" practice of mission by an established church.

This of course, stands in contrast to Calvin's understanding that the true church exists wherever the Word of God is rightly preached and the sacraments are rightly administered (Knox would add, in the spirit of Calvin, "where discipline is rightly exercised").  Missional critics might say that this static, Word-centered, definition of church reflects a cultural captivity to an age in which the church is an established institution; indeed, Knox's addendum would seem to require a power structure intended to maintain order.  

A major flaw in the missional church challenge is that there can be no such thing as a disembodied church.  Even if one accepts, for sake of argument, that the mission of God establishes its church, that church cannot exist without organizational form.  Much of the New Testament was written to address issues pertaining to the correct form and order of this nascent organization.  It took no more than three chapters in the book of Acts from the birth of the church at Pentecost to the first issues of discipline (Ananias and Sapphira) and internal conflict (the dispute over the distribution of bread to widows).  The earliest writings (Galatians, First Corinthians) are efforts to establish order and correct error.  Indeed, there is precious little in these letters about mission (except for Paul's attempts to justify his apostolic authority by appealing to his own mission work).

In his book In Good Company: The Church as Polis Stanley Hauerwas also addresses the question of the nature of the church in a post-Constantinian age.  He has sympathy for the Anabaptist vision of John Howard Yoder and others which defines the church as a unique community set apart to embody the presence of Christ.  He takes this further, however, by developing a Eucharistic model of the church by correcting the separatist tendencies of Yoder with a concept of the church being "the Body of Christ, broken for the world."  In this way, I think Hauerwas (who gives credit also to Karl Barth, 20th century heir of the Calvin legacy), taps into the Christocentric and cruciform shape of the church that is largely missing in the missional church model.

To be sure, the institutional form of the church, whether in Geneva, Rome, or Louisville, is neither infallible nor immutable.  But the church must have a form, a body, to perform its mission.  The mission of God does not just "happen,"  it emerges out of a community that forms people in the disciplines of the church, and sustains them as they perform that mission.  Hauerwas quotes Greek Orthodox theologian Georges Florovsky:

Christianity entered history as a new social order, or rather a new social dimension.  From the very beginning Christianity was not primarily a “doctrine,” but exactly a “community.”  There was not only a “Message” to be proclaimed and delivered, and “Good News” to be declared.  There was precisely a New Community, distinct and peculiar in the process of growth and formation, to which members were called and recruited.  Indeed, “fellowship” (koinonia) was the basic category of Christian existence.  (“Empire and Desert: Antinomies of Christian History,” Greek Orthodox Theological Review, 1957, p. 133 in Hauerwas, p. 28.) 

The disciplines identified by Calvin and Knox -- disciplines of right preaching, eucharistic integrity, and mutual accountability -- define the church that is able to embody Christ's presence in and for the world.  These aren't about the church's relationship to cultural centers of power, but the church's relationship to the spiritual center of power found in the Spirit of Christ and formed by the Word of God.

Why a Polity Pilgrimage?

It is an odd combination, to say the least.  For many people, "polity" is identified with the arcane minutiae of church law, the legalistic rule-based expression of institutional church bureaucracy. It is the arena of policy, politics, and police -- three words which share a common root with "polity." "Pilgrimage" on the other hand, is often regarded as an act of sheer devotion, a piety of the heart, a discipline of the spirit, an act of embodied prayer.  Could there be two more different expressions of Christian faith?

Jim Andrews, the former Stated Clerk of the PCUSA, described polity as "the practical expression of our theology."  For me, polity has been a defining dimension of my Presbyterian and Reformed faith.  When I first considered becoming a Presbyterian nearly 30 years ago, the pastor of the church I was attending (the Rev. Dale Rose of Eagle Rock Presbyterian Church in Los Angeles) handed me a copy of the Book of Order and suggested I read it before deciding.  It was an odd form of evangelism, to be sure, but it worked.  I read it cover to cover in a day, and found in it a way of ordering life in the church that was theologically compelling while being clear-eyed and pragmatic about life in Christian community.

Since that initial exposure, I have developed an even deeper appreciation for and understanding of Presbyterian polity.  I have been a reader of ordination exams; served on Committees on Ministry in two presbyteries and moderated one of them; was a member of the General Assembly Permanent Judicial Commission and moderator of PJCs in two different synods; and I currently serve as an Executive Presbyter and a member of the General Assembly Advisory Committee on the Constitution.   Not a day goes by that I don't see some new connection between our polity and the concrete expression of our life, witness, and mission as Christ's church.

I have also studied organizational leadership at the doctoral level in both secular and ecclesiastical contexts, and hold a D.Min. in Executive Leadership from McCormick Seminary in Chicago.  The stereoscopic perspective offered by these two disciplines has helped me to understand polity as the intersection of three essential elements -- Spirit, Power, and Community -- each of which is essential to the healthy functioning of the church as an organization.  I will have more to say about this in future posts.

Suffice it for now to say that for me the combination of polity and pilgrimage makes perfect sense.  My sabbatical goal is to use the discipline of pilgrimage in this quincentennial anniversary year of John Calvin's birth to enter more fully into the spiritual, theological, and cultural origins of Presbyterian polity.

The Journey Begins...

Welcome to my sabbatical blog!  "A Polity Pilgrimage for Reflection and Renewal" is the title of my blog and the theme of my sabbatical.  Thanks to a grant from the Louisville Institute, I will be traveling in the footsteps of Presbyterian founders John Calvin (left) and John Knox (below, right) as I seek to gain a greater appreciation for the historical, theological, and cultural origins of our polity.

As the centerpiece of my sabbatical, I will travel to Paris, Geneva, and Edinburgh to soak in and reflect on the birthplaces of Presbyterian governance.  Along the way, I will take side trips to Noyon (the birthplace of John Calvin), Strasbourg (where he spent several years in exile and developed his church polity), 

Basel and Bern (both brief residences on Calvin's journey).  In Scotland, Edinburgh (the location of Knox's home and St. Giles' Church) will be the jumping off point for an immersion in the Scottish heritage and culture that infuses American Presbyterianism.  

Along the way, I hope to post daily reflections of my pilgrim journey, as a spiritual discipline to help focus my thoughts and share them with others.  

The Chinese say, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single footstep."  My sabbatical journey begins today with a small "footstep" to Estes Park, Colorado.  I will spend much of my time preparing for my June 23 departure to Europe here and at Highlands Presbyterian Camp and Retreat Center near Allenspark.  Unfortunately, June weather is unreliable and rain is forecast all week in the mountains!  

At least I should get some good study time in as I bone up on Calvin and Knox.  I am staying in Estes at the home of Glen and Marg Manske, gracious and generous hosts.  Above is a picture of the view from their deck when I arrived early this evening.  My hosts are "morning" people, so I will need to adjust to a new schedule!