Ramblings in Germany
I never lived near church bells that rang so often and at what appears to me as odd times. Here in Framersheim, Germany, a tiny town of about 1500, there are no less than 4 churches of which as least two have active bells. 6:40 in the morning, what an odd time to toll, or 9:30 at night, and other times throughout the day, this morning it was 6:48; I cannot figure out the pattern either, but I will enjoy them while we are here.
I have been enjoying, for the most part, the houses we are staying in along the way. It is always an exciting moment to approach the next one, to walk through the door and see what will be the new accommodations for the week. To me the kitchen is a big deal. It is to the others also whether they know it or not because the food they eat comes out of it. There has been a place or two where I felt the need to wash the dishes before using them, but by far that is the exception and it is simply fun to explore what is available and figure out how to make do with insufficient basics or take advantage of the variety. For the first few weeks, I was so annoyed by these kitchens having the most pathetic dishcloths that, by the time we got to Wales, I finally purchased yarn and needles to knit myself a decent one. I should have done that earlier; the tide changed and every home since has had a reasonable one, so I frogged the dishcloth and am now knitting the skein into an infinity scarf.
Beds too have been an interesting variety. Some comfortable, some not. We have not yet encountered beds with top sheets. Just comforters with duvets. I miss sheets! Jack was wise enough to bring along his own, Landon has his usual 'big fuzzy' that he rolls up in but the rest of us adapt or be miserable. If the duvets are a nice feel and the temps are cool enough, it is fine. But everything is feathers for comforters and most pillows too. Potential ugh for allergies and hot flashes.
While it was mentioned before, we have certainly enjoyed the two Sundays thus far when we have been able to spend time with Mennonite believers in The Netherlands and Germany. Al and I are not extroverts, consequently we are just fine with having minimal contact with other adults. That said, I was a bit surprised how good it felt to be able to communicate on a level other than, "Do you speak English?...Great!...We would like tickets for a family of 5 (or 6) to the museum..." I guess we are a bit tired of our own company.
Anyway, Anke, in Amsterdam was so helpful and kind and enthusiastic about sharing her time, skills as an interpreter, and knowledge of the church, that we were greatly blessed by her friendship for the morning. The Amsterdam Mennonite Church is fascinating both architecturally and historically!
We also spent time with a kind man, Jan, in Pingjum, Netherlands who showed us another [formerly] hidden church, a video about Menno Simons, and generally made us feel welcome and inspired by our Mennonite Anabaptist history. I think he would have liked if I had taken more time to read through his guest book. He wanted me to try and find any connections to the Nyveldt name [this made me chuckle to myself]. but too much was in foreign languages for me so I glanced through, saw Nelson Kraybill's name to comment on, and gave up.
Certainly being here on the Continent, seeing the towns, hearing the stories, and reading the descriptions, has a different feel, a different vibe on the subject. I wish I could put it into words the perspective change. I can at best say that as the stories cross the Atlantic, there is a kind of filtering that happens, leaving some of the imperfection behind. But nothing is that simple, that pure. I must take it as an encouragement that in spite of imperfection, truth still stands, even in these jars of clay. I am a beautifully terrible mix of the good and the bad, the lovely and the ugly but Christ crucified in me produces the resurrection glory, just like my Anabaptist ancestors. We focus on the beauty we see in their life and deaths, and that is ok, but they too were flawed; their faithfulness made all the difference. Press on, everyone!
Enkenbach, Germany is the hometown of another church we visited. But let me first back up a bit. When Mennonite World Conference was in Harrisburg last year, our home church, Bossler Mennonite, was privileged to have a pastor from Germany, Rainer Burkhardt, bring the message on the Sunday morning after the conference. This church in Enkenbach is his home congregation.
When we arrived we were first joyfully greeted by a woman who thought we spoke French, an assumption based on the French-leased car we are driving. I was very sad to disappoint her. We ended up sitting in the same row with her, and her husband did a wonderful job interpreting Rainer's sermon for me. He spoke almost flawless English which was a great boon for me to comprehend as he spoke in a hushed whisper so as not to disturb the service. The mennonite game results were that he was a friend of Merle Good. Merle having been a 'PAXboy' [as they refer to them] in that area.
Rainer had arranged that a young family from the church would host us for lunch. It was marvelous. Our hosts, Patrick and Dora and their children, were so gracious and kind to us! They readily allowed these conversation starved travelers the respite of chattering if we wished and the opportunity to ask any and every question that was brewing to be asked. It was also wonderful to eat delicious food that I did not prepare [other than the restaurant type food we get every now and then] We were sustained in so many ways from this visit. Schmidts, if you happen to be reading this, thank you many times over! Our children have requested numerous times to come back.
Tuesday of that week, Rainer graciously gave up his day off to be our tour guide and hang out with us in Weierhof and in Worms. Beginning in Weierhof at the 'historical society' we met some wonderful people there. Gary spoke to us about numerous books in their library. He pulled out and showed us the [approx.] 500 year old Martyr's Mirror. I was so fascinated with it, I forgot to take a picture. He also gave us a tour of the town, showing us inside the Mennonite Church and, down the road a bit, the cemetery. No old graveyards in Europe, excluding those set aside as historical remembrances. Graves are generally older here in America. Different policies such as only wooden caskets, no vaults, and families maintaining the plots, moves the plot onto being available again after maybe 25 years. No longer needed gravestones are displayed along the surrounding fence. Sounds like a wiser system than ours. Landon exclaimed over this one below.
In Worms, after a delightful lunch of German foods, we walked about the town hearing interesting tidbits and history and stories connected with the city of Worms. The cathedral was gorgeous, the Jewish cemetery fascinating. The statues of Luther and others connected with the reformation well done. The synagogue was closed for the day but overall the day was incredibly interesting. Here is where we first found out about the brass squares in sidewalks. They are inscribed with the names of the Jews who lived in the adjacent house, where they were deported to, the date, and where they were murdered. Sobering. The photo below is of one of these brass plaques that we found in the city of Oppenheim two days later.
Well, this post is getting somewhat lengthy. I need to stop for the night it is getting late. Considering visiting Dachau tomorrow...