Saying goodbye

This morning I saw Anita off. She's now on her way to London for a night then home.

I went back to the room to finish packing, and though I had been in it myself before, now it was so empty.
So, already the holiday is over. It was fantastic ful of ups and downs, relaxation and fun amid the occasional stress. Now I start making my way to Irun to start walking. Who knows when or how, or where I´ll stay tonight -- this doesn´t matter as much as that I'll be staying on my own for some time now.

I'm looking forward to meeting new friends, and kepping in touch with old ones, but moreover, to seeing Anita again... not soon enough.

I'm thinking of retiring to Bavaria

SERIOUSLY. At fifty. Or forty if possible.

Here's why:
• you can ride almost anywhere by bicycle, and everywhere else by motorbike.
• or, if you're in a hurry, catch a train, or if you're in Munich, a subway.
• the alps are an hour away from the city by train or motorbike (a little more by bicycle).
• in the alps there is not only great hiking, but great swimming, great mountain and road biking. Great rock climbing and snow-shoeing and skiing and other winter sports too (of course!) - if you have the gear...
• there are bieregartens everywhere (from Munich to the alps);
• that serve cheap beer;
• that tastes great;
• any time of day.
• Audis, BMWs and VWs are cheap.

Possible downsides include:
• the amount of men wearing leather pants.
• watching world cup.
• too much sausage and bread and beer, not enough fresh fruit and veg.
• it's right next door to France (and Switzerland).
• winter is too cold.
• it's so far from Australia.

Don't worry, I love my job and my family and friends far too much to stay in Europe. But don't be surprised if I can't stop thinking about when I'm heading back next.

City and country

Last night and the night before we spent in France. Rural France. In fact, apart from Munich, all of our holiday has been in the country. And even then, most of that time we spent on day trips out of the city. Also, Munich is unbelievably bike-friendly, which is so unlike any Australian city and the other European ones we've seen.

This time in the country is not what I'd imagined or planned; Europe being so full of culture and history, and me wanting to see it... So it wasn't just a surprise that we spent so much time in parks, gardens, on winding roads and in hamlets and only a little in churches, and none (yet) in museums, it was also a surprise that I liked it.

Without the ugly suburban sprawl that Australia does as well as America, the villages though only 10 or 15 minutes ride or walk apart (and most people don't drive) each have their own character, maintained by the open spaces or forest between them.

The cities we went through might not have the sprawl but they still have the suburbs in some ways. On the one hand, aspiration drives conspicuous consumption and on the other, marginalisation is marked by a lack not only of consumption but colour. In the cities it seems, there is only luxury or poverty, glamour or dullness. Particularly striking were the bland (always only ever grey) apartment blocks that looked like they were made by communists.

Add to this the difference between city and country hospitality, and I think I'm a convert to rural life.


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Dachau

After Auschwitz (in today's Poland), perhaps Dachau is the best known remnant of the Third Reich. Today Anita and I planned to spend a couple of hours there, but instead spent a lot more than that.

Later I plan to post more on Dachau and Germany's conflicted past. But for now, it suffices to point out that I saw the cell of Pastor Martin Niemoller; he who greeted the Nazi rise to power because of it's compatibility with conservative values, yet had the courage to oppose it after seeing it at work. He even went on to become an early advocate of rapprpoachment with the communist east of Europe.

I made a point of seeing all of the religious memorials at Dachau -- Jewish, Orthodox, Catholic and Protestant. I was glad to see the the this latter memorial was very ecumenical -- very human, in many senses, without intending disrespect to the others -- and was also the one with people present. (To be fair, there is a convent behind the camp in this overwhelmingly Catholic state of Bavaria.)

It is true, so true; nothing could be truer -- "never again". Some things -- sadly, including the relative silence of Christians in the Third Reich -- must never be forgotten. Ever.

Too busy

Yes, travelling is hard work that takes up most of the day -- at least if done properly.

I've spent a lot of the time on the DB (deutschebahn = railway) but also some time on boats and buses in order to hike, swim, chat, eat and drink, and see otherwise inaccesible sights. I hope you're impressed with all of that (especially the swimming in lakes filled with ice-melt) because I am too. But (at least) just as impressive is the cheap beer served by the half-litre or litre. Sure, being at the top of Germany's highest mountain, purest lake, and most popular tourist destinations are great experiences, but evenryone needs a chance to relax every now and then. And biergartens are just that for me.

Austrian accident

No, don´t worry, nothng bad has happened to either me or Anita. Rather, we ended up in Austria by accident.

We set out early this morning from München (Munich) hoping to go see Dachau concentration camp, but all museums across Germany are closed on Mondays, so we tried to change our trip to Berchtesgarten and Kehlsteinhaus (-eagle´s Nest - Hitler´s retreat seen at the end of Band of Brothers), but there were problems with the Salzburg railway line getting there. So, instead we ended up taking a train to Garmisch-Partenkirchen, then a cogwheel train and cable car to Zugspitze, the highest mountain in Germany.

But because of the Schengen treaty, we crossed the border into Austria on the other side of the peak without even knowing it, looking for a restaurant for lunch. We found our restaurant and I thought it fitting to have Wiener Schnitzel for lunch. Now, hopefuly we go back down the correct side of the mountain into Germany, and not into Austria or Italy or Switzerland which can also be seen from here.

Leavin' on a jet plane

In just over twelve hours time Anita and I will fly out of Brisbane International Airport.
I'm extremely excited to finally be packed and that I could be disciplined enough to only take one book in my cabin luggage – though it is a collection of essays.
A number of things didn't get done, but I'm confident life in Brisbane will go on just fine without me.

Please use the tools from either Facebook or Google to follow my blog - seeing your display picture will encourage me to keep up to date. Also, I had tried to send a group email with my new contact details while I'm away, but that wasn't so successful. So have a look at my new email address in the top right-hand corner and consider dropping me a line or making a comment on one of my posts if you want to keep in touch during June, July or August.

Saying good-bye

Last Sunday I said my farewells at Arana. I'm sure I'll be back, I even know when, and that I need to have certain things ready to share when I do return. But nonetheless, for this journey it was an important step for the congregations to say good-bye to me and for me to say good-bye to them; to say explicitly and honestly "I won't see you for twelve weeks, and I'll miss you."

Contrast this with the typically postmodern sense of rootlessness that avoids having to commit to anything: no RSVPs, no good-byes, no intentional absence and almost no intentional presence.

Community means – among other things – having to say good-bye when you go. It also means that when you return, there will be people waiting to hear your stories and see your pictures.

Journaling

Consider how irregular my blogging is, and you will have some idea of how unsuccesful most of my attempts at daily journalling have been.

My life is highly resistant to attempts to impose routine upon it, but it has been known to happen – in restricted ways, and for limited times – in the past, but it's not something that comes easily. But almost nothing of any value is achieved without difficulty. Walking 900km in a foreign country will not be achieved without difficulty. So, if I can hike, on average 30km a day for 30 days, perhaps then I can also journal about those travels for 30 minutes at the end of each day.

Though a generalisation, my theory is that a person's life is either easy for them to write about, or worth writing about. I'd much rather have the former problem than the latter!

Church Newsletter

This small article was written for my church's newsletter, because – as is clear below – my colleague Simon (the senior pastor) who more often than not writes the 'Pastor's Post,' well and truly has his hands full at the moment.

As if moving across the world wasn't enough, this weekend the Wards move into their third Australian house.
In less than a month, Anita and I head overseas for a holiday. Then after Anita heads home, I stay on to walk 900km across Spain.
Last weekend the church went camping. As well as the necessities – like good coffee – we had some luxuries, but by and large the people who went to Triple C left most of their everyday lives behind.

For God's people in the Old Testament, going to a particular place – usually the temple – gave people a special experience of God's presence, which is why the psalmist says "blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage." As a faithful Jew, Jesus himself also participated in the feasts and festivals: at the camp service, John Armstrong shared with us from John 7 about a time when Jesus addressed those who had also left their everyday lives behind to journey to Jerusalem. Not only that, but Jesus also started his public ministry with an extended time of solitude in the desert, and continued during his ministry to regularly withdraw to a quiet time and place.

Despite the scriptural precedent and Jesus' example it's easy for us to mistakenly think that now there are no special places anymore, there is no need to go anywhere or to get away. In fact, the opposite is true. Certainly it's true that God's dwelling place is no longer (just) in Jerusalem, but – through Jesus – in the lives of his people. And it's also the case that we celebrate Jesus as our passover lamb every time we meet, and not just once a year. It's not that there are no special places or times anymore, but that every place and time is special: "God with us" can be the experience of every person, regardless of history or geography.

So, even though Christians don't need to go to Jerusalem (or any other place) for passover (or any other festival), it's still fitting for us to think of ourselves as a pilgrim people, wherever and whenever we go: that, after all is the point of the great commission in Matthew 28. As for camping, moving house, and trekking – these activities help remind us that God's people are always on the move. 

Road trippin

With the RHCP song at the front of my mind, I'm wondering what the relationship between pilgrimage and road-trip is.

Though Anita and will likely make our way from Munich to Barcelona by road, and from there I'll bus it to Irun, I don't think of this travel as part of my camino. I can think if too many reasons why road trippin really isn't pilgrimage (pace, convenience and amount of preparation required), for any road trip, that is, except for one to Chicago.

Now, predictably, Sufjan Stevens is at the front of my mind.


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Aussie Camino

An episode of the ABC's Compass has made me aware of an enterprising group that has taken the initiative in establishing the camino Salvado from St Joseph's Subiaco to Australia's only monastic town, New Norcia: some 145 kms over six days. The route is named after Dom Salvado who walked it many times. I'm particularly pleased that following in the footsteps of this Abbot-Bishop would bring Australian pilgrims into contact with the histories of both the camino de Santiago and Australia's mixed relations (to say the least!) between the church and indigenous Australians.

Needless to say, I hope to walk this way one day soon.

Practice Travel (MREs)

I'm walking the camino and visiting Taizé mostly to develop a particular type of spirituality: missional spirituality, or simply, spirituality for mission.
And my missional vocation will be lived out in a particular type of context: military chaplaincy.

It's therefore fitting that in the same way that soldiers will conduct mission rehearsal exercises before deploying overseas, I'm currently conducting my own mission rehearsal exercise. I'm in Sydney for the week to attend a facilitation by Steve Taylor on mission, discipleship and leadership in cultures of change. In a number of ways I've tried to make this trip a practice for my travel in Europe:

• I travelled only with hand luggage (I don't think I can ever travel with checked baggage again, it's so much quicker and easier),
• I relied heavily on the hospitality of others - my hosts are generous and flexible and even though I do my own thing a lot of the time, I still feel like we share a significant amount of time, 
• most of my non-study activities were unplanned before arriving (except for one), even a proposed trip to the a neighbouring city. 

In some ways I'm already starting to live the life of a pilgrim – travelling lightly, looking for God's grace at work in others and spontaneity – but there is certainly much to learn as I refine both the way I travel and discipline the way I live. 

(Numerous clichéd ways of making this last point tempted me in this late-night moment of weakness – much ground to cover, a long way to journey, etc – but I have successfully avoided placing them in the body of the post. I include them here for illustrative purposes only.)

Technology and pilgrimage

Today I started reading the journal of another caminante, edited and compiled into book form; it's inspiring and I know that I'd really like to be able to do the same. I'm not sure that I'm capable of adding another expectation: so far my commitments are to the pilgrimage journey and certain practices along the way – what that all adds up to at the end seems a little beyond me, especially now. And even if I could undertake this extra task, I'm not sure that I should. 

Mostly I want to avoid taking too much technology with me: I remember Richard Foster's insight that simplicity is not about having nothing more to add, but having nothing more to take away. I am primarily a traveller, and not a photographer or writer and I really want to walk as I normally would and not be weighed down by a camera, books and a computer, even if it means that I have less to show for it afterwards. And that, for me, is really saying something. So I'm still working out what to take with me, but most importantly what to leave behind. If only I could this way when I'm not on pilgrimage.

[The Spanish word for 'pilgrim' is peregrino, from which is derived touregrino, for a spiritual tourist (perhaps another post on this one day?). In the twenty-first century, can the technogrino ever be a true pilgrim?]