Pilgrimage 2010
From Wellington Cathedral of St Paul
On 27th May 2010 a group of people from across the Diocese of Wellington set off on a pilgrimage to the Passion Play at Oberammergau and then on to trace the steps of St Paul through Greece (itinerary).
Throughout the trip there will be regular entries added to this page documenting their experiences, so check back regularly over the next few weeks.
From Athens, 16th June
Phillippi
Let me go back to Phillippi and add a few more details on this fascinating and important place in the history of Christianity. Two hours east of Thessaloniki by coach it was the place where St Paul first preached in Europe, and had his first European convert – Lydia, seller of purple. Our first stop here was the delightful chapel dedicated to St Lydia, and built particularly, and exclusively, for baptisms! After a few minutes in the chapel itself, admiring the lovely ikons and paintings of baptism scenes, we moved outside to a shaded spot next to the running stream. Here, it is believed, Paul, finding no synagogue in Phillippi, made his way to a place of prayer outside the city walls and met Lydia and others. As we gathered on the steps beside the running water, I read from Acts 16 – the story of Lydia, and the exorcism of the young slave girl whose constant calling out so irritated Paul and led to him and Silas being cast into prison. As the water rippled over the rocks we heard of the earthquake, and the gaoler’s panic and subsequent request to be baptized. These verses have always been important to me – the baptism of his whole household, presumably including children too young to make a personal act of commitment to Christ. Little vials of scented olive oil are among the oddments tempting tourists to part with their money. I had the privilege of anointing each of our pilgrim group – a tangible, and fragrant, reminder of our own baptism.
Later, in the 42 degree heat, we spent 90 minutes wandering the remarkable (and huge) archeological site of Phillippi – seeing the theatre with its underground rooms (is this where the wild animals were kept before the gladiatorial games?), and the remains of prison cells. There are some special mosaics and the significant remains of a church where unsuccessful experiments were made in the 4th century to vault the roof. To see Paul’s name inscribed in the marble is something quite special.
The Last Things
Monday night (14 June) saw us all wander down the road to a Greek taverna for a very special meal. Dish after dish arrived on the table, matched by carafes of red and white wine. Two musicians struck up and at one stage we took over a cleared area of the cobbled mall for a bit of dancing – Zorba-style. I am sure the coach was a little quieter when we set off for the 500km journey to Athens in the morning.
The drive between the two major cities of Greece took us through more beautiful countryside, passed stunning beaches (determined to make a pilgrimage to the beaches of St Paul next time!), and through the area of Thermopylae. Listening again to the story of the great battle between Persian and Greek all those centuries ago, I felt a profound sense of sadness that human beings have still not found a way to live together in peace and harmony – there is still tension between Greek and Turk. What a fought over land!
The trip passed fairly smoothly, punctuated with loo stops (coffee in, coffee out). Two moments worth recording: 33 passengers standing to sing “God defend New Zealand” as the All Whites began their first World Cup game; and the great whoop of delight by ten or so of us in a road-side café as we witnessed the miraculous equalizing goal!! What did the locals make of that?
The farewells have been said, the final prayers been prayed and the tears shed. We leave this morning, some to return straight home to a cold New Zealand, some to go on to Gallipoli, Lichfield, Toronto, Kagera or other places. We have grown together and been surprised, delighted and enriched in different and unexpected ways. Our understanding of the remarkable courage and vision of St Paul will mean a new depth to the Epistles and Acts. It was Lawrence Durrell who said - it is in Greece that you discover yourself.
Let the last words be St Paul’s: Rejoice in the Lord always: again I will say, rejoice! … To our God and Father be glory for ever and ever. Amen. (Phil 4: 4 & 20)
Frank
Phillippi, 14th June
Today was another long hot bus trip – this time to Phillippi. The excavated ruins are amazingly extensive and worth a good long visit – but the heat got the better of us all too soon (it was forecast to reach 40 degrees and judging by how cool the 30 degrees in the bus felt, probably was!).
A few hours off now to rest, shower, find the post office to mail things back home and prepare for our final dinner together. Tomorrow is the long drive back to Athens and the even longer flights back home – or on to other destinations for some.
Meteora and Thessaloniki, 12 & 13th June
Meteora
That night we arrived at Kalambaka. None of us were prepared for the beauty of this collection of rocks – the Meteora - which tower over the plains. The next morning took us to marvel and explore some of the sights. At one time 21 monasteries clung to the tops of these monoliths. For various reasons they fell into disrepair after the second world war, and were abandoned. Then, in the 1960s, one of them caught fire and a group of women from Kalambaka clambered up to douse the fire… and stayed. There are now two nunneries and four monasteries back in operation, taking it in turns to be open for tourists. It was strangely moving to climb up and up – first by bus and then up a winding stairway, to emerge in a sanctuary of stillness and lovely terraced gardens. The monastery we visited, Barlaam, used to have access only by barrel. Literally; any visitors (and food and livestock) were hauled up the rock face sitting in a barrel or a rope net. Rumour had it that they only replaced the rope when it broke – a deliberate attempt to discourage visitors. They also hid people away during the war, hauling them up unseen in a barrel and then disguising them as monks.
Our group’s interest in icons led our driver to suggest a visit to an icon “factory.” Initially it felt like a commercial hard sell but the two artists, a husband and wife, who write the icons were gentle and charming, and it was a lovely visit (and a productive one).
Mara took us to lunch at a charming family restaurant in Kalambaka, where we enjoyed the shady garden, sheltering from the 38dgeree heat. Grateful for the air-conditioned bus, we set off on another long bus ride to Thessaloniki. On the way we stopped for a short service at Berea in a little garden commemorating St Paul’s visit (he was better received at Berea than Thessaloniki). This was my first glimpse of a real Byzantine mosaic and my art teacher was right: no photograph can do them justice. The movement and play of light on the irregular planes of the tiles is wonderful.
Thessaloniki – June 13 So we arrived in Thessaloniki late in the evening, hot and tired but still a very happy and united group. Mara had decided to introduce us to a Greek Orthodox service – a difficult thing to do, as when one shows people something important, one risks the hurt of ridicule and misunderstanding. So, early (by Greek standards) we crossed the road into the Basilica of St Dominios, the local martyr and patron saint. We were there for the last of three hours. I have been to an orthodox service before so knew some of what to expect, but it was very new to most of the group.
Passing another basilica we were attracted by the sight of a baptism and ended up staying to watch, rather than continuing on the city tour. This was a more accessible, family event and it was moving to be welcomed as witnesses to the event – Claire Shirtcliffe being welcomed by the proud grandmother. The child was “the best behaved ever” and kept smiling at everyone throughout. As has happened so many times, the unexpected gifts of love are the most moving.
We had our own Eucharist that evening in the hotel – using the blessed bread from the morning’s orthodox service. There was a real sense of sharing, and of the great unity of all believers, no matter how that belief is expressed. Frank gave Mara a holding cross from Wellington Cathedral and many eyes were suspiciously shiny! Mara has been a treasure – a real gift to us all, and we will all be very sad to part.
Santorini and Delphi, 12th June
June 12 – Saturday
Early Saturday morning in the Divani Meteora Hotel beneath the stunning mountains known as Meteora – home to cliff-top monasteries which we will visit later this morning. But back to the past few days.
Thursday 10th June saw us dock for a few hours in Crete. While the noise of the ship’s engines thrusting into reverse have been a rather early wake-up call most mornings, I have enjoyed getting out on deck to watch the captain bring the ship to its mooring. There is a definite pattern as he and his mate step out from the bridge to direct the proceedings with much gesticulation and angry sounding shouting. As soon as the last of the morning ropes has been secured the captain lights his cigar and the mate a foul smelling cigarette – a sure sign that all is well! I have just started reading Sandy Thomson’s autobiography about his capture in WWII on Crete, and subsequent time first in Corinth, then Athens (in military hospital as a POW of the Germans) – so there is some poignancy.
A few took the opportunity of an island tour to see the sights, but most, I think, were content to wander into town and gaze at the shops, get a coffee, or find an internet café. Back on board by 11am we set sail for the island of Santorini (worth an internet search for its fascinating history of archeological finds). Destroyed by a massive volcanic eruption, a whole civilization has been preserved under the sea and lava.
The approach to the island is stunning – high cliffs rising out of the sea, with white-washed houses on the tops looking like frosting on a cake. There are three ways of getting to the top: cable car (for the week kneed – and willing to be shoved and shouted at by noisy Greek and Italian tourists), donkey or mule, or shanks pony. Strongly advised to take the cable car, we did, and found ourselves perched high above the sea in narrow streets of cobbled stone lined with the now obligatory shops selling gold and silver jewelery, post cards and memorabilia, and, of course, ice-cream and cold drinks. Most of this part of the island is given over to hotels and restaurants catering for the thousands of tourists flocking in on cruise boats and package plane deals.
We found a few minutes of quiet in the beautifully decorated Orthodox Church, punctuated by the ever-watchful ‘no flash’ cries of the care-takers, and a chance to absorb the icons and paintings – from the top of the ceiling all the way down. A sudden commotion at the entrance transformed the rather surly woman keeping an eye on us tourists invading her space as an elderly man arrived carrying a most enormous round flat loaf of bread (fully the size of the large offertory plate in Wellington Cathedral) and a bunch of beautiful roses.
Despite the warnings from the Cruise Ship and our lovely guide Mara, Christine and I decided to walk back down the 500+ steps, at times shoving our way through the strings of mules and donkeys, beautifully decorated and with bells jangling, and taking care to avoid the inevitable piles of donkey poo. It was actually a pleasant walk down. But what happens to unemployed donkeys when a cable car replaces them?
Back to the ship by lighter (tender boat) for dinner, then pack our suitcases (to be left outside by midnight for collection) and our final night on board. It has been a wonderful cruise, seeing interesting places, and very relaxed time on board. But not a quiet time! Surely there must be others who cruise who would appreciate some quiet space to read without music blaring out all the time. The ‘library’ is a few bookcases sandwiched along the side of the casino space!
June 11 – Friday A quick breakfast and disembarkation shortly after 7am. There was a sense of home-coming to find ‘our’ bus driver waiting for us and the start of the long drive through rush-hour Athens (a good time to say Morning Prayer together on the bus) and on to Delphi.
Others will be able to write better about the detail of Delphi – this most important site of the ancient and modern archeological world. Our guide Mara came up trumps again with her fund of knowledge and interesting stories. She has a real gift for giving more than just the facts, and weaving together the bigger picture. One of the things that strikes me is just how much the different peoples of antiquity borrowed ideas from each other. I suppose we tend to think that what we read in the Bible is uninfluenced by the neighbouring ‘nations’ – not the case at all. One is also left marveling at the way so few people (in many cases just St Paul) made such significant inroads into changing the world. Has it always been for the good? An interesting question. Christine was particularly pleased to be able to climb all the way up to the theatre. God has been good.
Down the mountain to the sea and a lovely and welcome lunch at 3pm – we have finally got to eat at Greek times – sitting out under umbrellas with the sea lapping the rocks, enjoying a beer or coke in the 37 degree heat.
Then it was back on the bus for a snooze during the 4 hour drive to Meteora, which included crossing several mountain ranges and the plane of Thessaloniki. I found the musings of Mara fascinating as she talked about her take on the Greek economy and the impact of becoming part of the EU – cotton quotas and farming subsidies, lack of crop rotation, expectations that family businesses remain open longer hours with attendant impact on family and village life, bribery and corruption, resentment at change, and a sense of ‘she’ll be right’! We arrived at our hotel tired and very hot, but satisfied after another day of discovery, hundreds of photos taken and enriching stretching of mind and perspective.
Rhodos, Wednesday 9th June
If it’s Wednesday it must be Rhodos (Rhodes) – another beautiful island in the Aegean, which is just as beautiful with its azure colours as written about in poem and story. But let’s back track a little.
Monday morning saw us leaving our hotel in Athens for the 45 minute journey through the rush hour traffic (thank goodness our visit is this side of the 2004 Olympics and the better road system is in use) to the port of Piraeus and embarkation on cruise ship Aquamarine. Following a chaotic two hours which included getting ID photos taken, being led like the proverbial sheep to slaughter through milling crowds and life-boat drill, we settled into shipboard life – which seems dominated by one meal after the other! With her special diet Christine has been given the royal treatment by our charming maitre d’; helped along by advice from our guide that the odd wink and flutter of eye-lashes always works! Destination: Mikanos. While most of our tour group opted for a walk on shore, Christine and I stayed on board, necessary time to recoup energy following a series of long days (and too much walking on Sunday).
Tuesday – early wake-up (though I was on deck by 5am to watch us approach the shore of Turkey and the port of Kusadasa. We gathered in one of the lounges for a briefing and dispatch to our buses (with the “Friends of Wellington” being first off the mark, ensuring a shout of approval from 33 Anglicans); a brief ride up the hill to the stunningly beautiful mountain top and the (alleged) house of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Intriguing to all of us was to hear from our Turkish (and Muslim) guide, of the veneration with which Mary is held by Muslims – and for similar reasons to Christians. As always there is a fine line between myth and reality, between veneration and worship. Wherever we go the ancient themes of fertility and virility seem to surface. Our first queue of the day to get through the little chapel, was made special for me by the visible presence of both monks and nuns, and the opportunity to light a candle or two. Out the other side and we were into the inevitable shopping mall! Christine takes over:
Our first stop, as Frank has said, was the basilica on the site where it is claimed Mary spent her last days with John. There is almost no evidence for this – it is based on the dream of a German nun in the 18th Century and the fact that there had once been a 5th century basilica on the site. Despite my skepticism, there is a real holiness about the place; lovely shady trees and monks and nuns in the basilica. It is a prayed in place. We were shepherded in and had to keep moving so we were out before we knew it, with no time to look around. I did manage to see the remains of a fresco on (we were told) the remains of the older basilica walls – a fragment of a female face. Our guide told us that Turkish women, Christian and Muslim, come here to pray for a baby, to “Share in the miracle of mother Mary.” Many who conceive will give one of the carpets they knotted for their dowry in thanks, and these are on the floor.
Outside were three modern taps, but the water coming out is apparently holy. One tap is for health, one for fertility, one for prosperity. How can so much superstition still feel so completely authentic?
There was also a wall of prayers outside: written on paper, tissue, toilet paper – whatever is available - and tied by the hundred to bits of string. It was a strangely tawdry and yet moving sight.
Once out of the calm of the trees we were in a bazaar. To make eye contact is to be harangued. We escaped for a few minutes by buying a coke and sitting at the table outside – but then succumbed and bought a few (small) gifts – our suitcases are already too full and too heavy. We were, after all, in Turkey for only one morning.
The next stop was Ancient Ephesus. It is beautiful and in remarkably good repair but I would have enjoyed the chance to look around properly and get Mara’s version of everything (our Greek guide who is not licenced to lead tours in Turkey). We were allowed to stop for a short reading and for a group photo in front of the library (taken by the professional photographer trailing us, photos ready for us to buy at the end) and weren’t even able to go into the theatre. It was disappointing, but the reason for the hurry wasn’t yet clear so we didn’t object. I wonder if things would have changed if we had told the guide “If you want a tip, let us stay here for longer”? I’d love to return to Ephesus with time to wander and ponder.
The reason for the rush became clear on the way back to the port when we were taken to a government sponsored carpet factory, to see a young woman knotting carpets and to be shown dozens of rugs of all sized and colours, wool and silk. They were beautiful – but what a price. And what a very “hard sell”!
We set sail again to Patmos, and the afternoon tour – this time with Mara. She confided that it was not as busy as she had feared… I thought it was chaotic!
First stop was the grotto of the apocalypse, where St John is supposed to have written the Revelation. Once again, there is no firm evidence, but it IS known that he was on a high place between the top of the hill and the harbour, so this is as good a spot as any. Of course, legends abound, for example, the cracks in the rock caused by the power of the voice of God. The best part of the brief walk through was when we peeked behind the screen into the sanctuary. Again, with more time to really look and absorb, it might have felt more holy. It is bare rock, with 7 ornate lamps for the 7 churches, and a stunning view from the single window. It should be, and probably is, beautiful. I am so glad we don’t have thousands of visitors trooping through Wellington Cathedral.
Next stop was the medieval monastery of St John established to be away from the hustle and bustle, because no ships visit Patmos. Yeah, right! Mara gave a very good and interesting introduction to the chapel and the amazing frescoes. Little gems of information: the icons stay much the same for centuries – because they were symbolic and not intended to express individual artistry but to be a vehicle for worship. One of the changes happened after the Turkish invasion: the hopelessness was expressed through the first ever iconic representations of the “dead Christ.”
Mara told us that she believes that the Greek people would not have survived without the Orthodox Church. Not just for spiritual support and stability, but the church helped people financially as well. She explained the importance of the visual images in a culture where few could read, and said that this is still true for children who learn by asking questions. Chatting afterwards, it emerged that this is how she learned; she hated the incense and therefore church, but used to ask questions about the pictures – “that was my favourite time, one on one with the priest.” She still asks questions “I like to know how things fit together” and has an amazing general knowledge. Another interesting little fact (courtesy of Mara): mothers used to gouge out parts of the frescoes when a child was ill – especially the eyes (part of the reason so few frescoes are original) as they were considered particularly holy. This, mixed with water, was given to the ailing infant. The irony was that the plaster was calcium and often did help a baby suffering from extreme malnutrition! God works in mysterious ways. After a few moments to savour the stunning views we were back on the bus down to the harbour. Have I already waxed lyrical about the colours of the sea? I still can’t believe I’m not seeing it through blue tinted glass.
A more relaxed day on Rhodes – and we’re back where Frank began. As far as history is concerned the island is mostly known as a crusader fortress. The ruined fortress and city walls were restored for Mussolini (although he seldom used it) so they look very impressive (until you notice that a lot of the walls are not stone, but concrete blocks!). The morning was filled by an energetic tour of the fortress area with Mara for some, and a leisurely wander for others. Frank and a couple of others had a swim in the sea after lunch. The evening was the formal ship dinner which, like all the meals on board, was delicious.
Corinth, Sunday 6th June
June 6 - Corinth
We have had three days in this cradle of civilization; three days of overwhelming exposure to antiquity, of amazement and unexpected blessings: the best sort.
Our second day in Athens took us by bus to the Temple of Poseidon; pure classical mythology and artistry. It was amusing that most of our party seemed far more impressed with the tortoises than the architecture. The storm at sea, with thunder and lightning, made a dramatic backdrop. The afternoon was spent independently and every person will have their own story to tell. Frank and I enjoyed the new Acropolis museum – not quite complete, but well worth the visit.
Today we went to Ancient Corinth. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to be surprised by the experience. After a quick look round the museum and exhibits, we gathered round the bema where Paul was brought before the proconsul Galeo. Mara (our guide) once again pointed out the significance of the fact that Galeo refused to intervene in a dispute between the Jews and Paul, thus allowing Paul to continue his preaching. He spent 18 months there, making tents for the visitors to the bi-annual games and preaching the gospel. How different it might have been if Galeo had intervened. (See Acts 18)
With this in mind, we gathered under some trees, around a conveniently placed marble block, and Frank celebrated the Eucharist. Sitting above unexcavated ruins, surrounded by the remains of the ancient city, time seemed to become elastic. Some tears were shed, and the timeless serenity of the place embraced us, as did the saints of all ages.
The mundane needs of our physical bodies weren’t ignored. We lunched at the edge of the massive Corinthian canal – a deep trench cut through the narrow neck of the Peloponnese Peninsula to enable small ships and boats to cut through to the Aegean Sea. There was great excitement when the massive bridge ground to life and dropped down well below water level to allow several craft though.
Christine
Athens, Saturday 5th June
We left a wet and cold (but beautiful) Munich on Thursday afternoon to fly south and east to Athens to revel, and then wilt, in the 27 + temperatures. Finally the complete tour party is assembled – with Swee-Im joining us from Malaysia.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Surprise, surprise, we have arrived at Athens Airport, but Athens is surprised at our arrival!” (Pilot)
After a huge dinner we slipped quietly away and off to bed. But not before taking the lift to the top floor and the roof garden. Stepping round the corner one’s breath is quite taken away as the floodlit Acropolis looms above. A good omen of the next day’s visit to this most famous of sights.
So far we have reveled in our tour guides and escorts – Lawrence in Singapore, David and Vicki in Germany – so our expectations are high. Mara very quickly set about demonstrating her skill, wit, wisdom and knowledge as she led us up the Acropolis, stopping every so often to give a brief lecture on what we were looking at. I notice a number of people working hard with their note-books – and am impressed at the dedication.
What an awesome building the Parthenon is – no two pieces of stone the same, and built (in just 8 years) to reflect the emerging concept of democracy, that every single person has a special and valued place in society. How often we pay little more than lip-service to this idea. Was St Paul influenced by the Parthenon when he gave us the concept of the Body of Christ, the Church within which every person has a unique place and role? The views of course are stunning. Among the many things I have been impressed with is the way our guides cope with the ups and downs of history, not apportioning blame, but encouraging us to see the bigger perspective and the broad sweep of time – with its wars and peace-times. Non-slip shoes are essential when walking along the smoothly polished marble blocks on this hill.
The sound of another group singing greeted us as we dropped down to the Areopagus, the gathering place where St Paul spoke to the Athenians about the Unknown God. Later, I read the account by Luke from Acts 17, marveling again at how clever Paul was in reading his audience and homing in on ideas that would resonate. The setting reminded me of a service conducted by Bishop Tom Stanage at Modderpoort, near Bloemfontein in South Africa, standing in the sunshine outside a cave used by the early missionaries there. Those missionaries, and St Paul, received mixed reactions to the Gospel – some scoffed, some said ‘we will hear you again’, and a few welcomed the message! Sobering words for those of us who preach week by week – even St Paul had limited success!
A quick tour round the city itself to orientate us led to lunch in the Plaka and then a visit to the National Archeological Museum. Again, Mara proved her worth in guiding us through the bewildering array of exhibits, carefully selecting just enough to tell this fascinating story in pottery, stone and sculpture; and not forgetting to point out the Mycenean smile and the influences of different eras. For me, memories of my university days and Professor Lydia B whose passion was Linear B!
Exhausted and satisfied pilgrims made their way up to the Roof Garden of the hotel for a formal group photo of all 33 of us, and then delighted in a drink courtesy of our Travel Agent, Ross Wilson of Maher Travel in Wellington.
As I write in the early morning the doves are cooing, sparrows chirping and a cool breeze following a brief shower holds promise of another busy day.
Oberammergau, Wednesday 2nd June
Gruss Gott (God’s Greeting)
Following an interesting trip from Munich through the stunningly beautiful Ammergau Alps to Neuschwanstein Castle we went on to the Wieskirchen – a marvellous example of a church in the ornate rococo style. The highlight was when our German speaking members of the party asked the verger if we could have a short service there.
“Are you American?”
“No, New Zealand.”
“Ah, very good – yes!”
He then gave a warm announcement to the other tourists about this group from NZ and Frank stepped up the lectern and led a short evening prayer.
Our Cwm Rondha (Guide me O thou great redeemer) showed off the acoustics rather well, I thought! As we left, one of our party said to me, “When we went in I felt foreign, a stranger, but that all changed when we prayed there.”
Passion Play
The play began at 2.30 pm. The first half was just under 3 hours – then dinner, and the second half began at 8pm! It was FREEZING – we wore all the polyprops and every layer we had with us – I think I wore 5 layers plus hat, scarf and a hired blanket. Yet, one forgot the cold quite soon. The stage is huge – a columned “building” centre stage, and 2 on either side up a flight of wide stairs. A full orchestra and choir of probably 50 voices. The action was divided with choral interludes which linked the events with Old Testament stories, each represented visually by a vivid tableau. These were stunning: bright primary colours. I wanted prints of them, but none available.
The play itself is in the colours of the deanery: grey-blue for crowds, beige/oatmeal for the disciples, black and white for the Pharisees and bright orange for the Sadducees. The Romans were in black – interesting costumes made up of a Roman-ish kilt and breastplate with a cloak, but knee-high boots and gloves which made them look uncannily like Nazi SS (no accident, I’m sure). I was a little bemused by the headgear for the Pharisees and Sadducees – they looked as if they were wearing large lampshades upside down on their heads! One did get used to it though, and from the back, it would have helped to identify the characters. Caiaphas was all in white – the pope?
The grey-blue was continued in the leaves of the trees just outside the two most prominent entry-ways (spray painted, I assume) and in the palm branches for the opening: the entry to Jerusalem. This was stunning – the sheer numbers on stage, from babies to the very old, milling and shouting, were overwhelming. It’s hard to estimate just how many there were – but I suspect it was well over 100. Jesus was well portrayed here – a lovely warmth and affection for his donkey, children, old people; he really did seem to be a charismatic leader and it was easy to believe he was loved. The script is a clever blend of all 4 gospels – with other parts inserted into the passion week narration. It is all in German, so we had to follow in our English translations – although once it got dark, we had to simply watch; by then it was pretty much straight from the familiar passion narrative, so easier to follow. It is in the style of a miracle play, and the auditorium holds 2000, with only a bank of floor microphones (no radio/headsets) so the acting was fairly stylised with old-fashioned voice projection. This, plus the German, made it hard to feel involved. (Of course, we were close enough to see the relative lack of expression on their faces, but from the far end of the auditorium the large gestures would have been very helpful).
Highlights
The cleansing of the temple would have to be one. The animals (sheep and goats, and doves) milling with another huge crowd while Jesus and his disciples were trying to pray – well, one couldn’t be surprised at his anger! When he released the doves, they flew around over our heads and out (home, no doubt) - I should have explained that the stage is open air – with a brand new removable canopy for rainy days (and it was needed – it was pouring!).
Pilate was superb – very fascist. His quarrel with Caiaphas made the impossible position for the Jewish leaders very clear – and, as someone said, they showed that “Caiaphas knew Jesus was right.” The washing of the hands was powerful – he washed and washed, having thrown his gloves to the floor.
I liked the way they showed Nicodemus and Joseph of Aramathea – as well as Gamaliel; they have taken pains to show the crucifixion as a political killing, with no trace of anti-semitism. The above 3 fought really hard to save Jesus.
I loved the portrayal of Herod – not unlike JC Superstar, in some ways. He barged in on an argument between Pilate and Caiaphas, on a beautiful horse and followed by damsels, of course – but also by a mother camel and baby! I’m afraid I forgot the dialogue at that point and watched the animals – and they were worth watching. The female camel was restless but obviously fascinated by the goings-on. The baby was bored and made his opinion clear when he turned his bottom to the audience, wiggled his ridiculous little tail and let go! (Frank was frustrated by the piles of sheep, goat and camel dung on stage – ignored by the performers). By the time the crucifixion happened, Jesus was a mess. The insult to the Jews was clear: “behold, your king!” - a bloody bag of bones. The actual crucifixion was fairly quick – it had to be - the 3 crucified were suspended 4 meters in the air, supported only by their wrists and small ledges under their heels. Taking the body from the cross was a gentle, loving moment, as they lowered him down and anointed him. Such love. (Unlike the criminals who were unceremoniously thrown over a shoulder). Another powerful thing was the deliberate comparison between Judas and Peter. At the last supper, they included the Lord’s Prayer – with different disciples saying a line each. Peter said “save us from the time of trial” and Judas “deliver us from evil”. Clever.
The resurrection let the show down a bit – they didn’t need to have Jesus come on stage again – the angel had already given the message powerfully… and the actor was clearly physically and emotionally exhausted – he looked as if he needed a hot bath more than as if he was full of resurrection life! So did we – cold and stiff, but very glad to have seen the play. What is incredible about it is that this tiny village kept a promise made 400 years ago. 2500 of the village are directly involved – nearly half the population. To be in the play, you have to be born there, or have lived there for 20 years – so they are all genuinely villagers – yet it is very professionally done. We are drained after holy week – they do this for 4 months! Plus they accommodate 2000 people every day… it is mind-boggling. Mary Magdalene was the waitress at one hotel. Apparently they give roles according to jobs – some appear only in the evening half of the play and children only in the afternoon. Surely the 2 who alternate as Jesus must take time off??
Christine
Comments from members of the Tour Group:
- The picturesque town
- What a welcome at our hotel – it set the scene for all the wonderful experiences in town and Play
- The way the priesthood acted in condemning Christ to death – very obvious where the blame lay
- Good crowd scenes: all for Jesus, then all against Jesus
- Ezekiel the barman, Mary Magdalene the waitress at our hotel!
- A wonderful community experience; an amateur production of extremely high standard performed with real pride
- Fabulous OT tableaux – vibrant colours, wonderful angels – reminded me of Wearable Arts
- Great selection of animals on the Play – donkey, horse, sheep, goats, dromedary, doves
- The guards on the parapet
- The overwhelming commitment of the village people to Christ’s Passion – nearly half the population directly involved in the Play
- The ever-present soldiers – an occupied city
Munich, Sunday 30th May
Late afternoon towards the end of a very long day having arrived at Munich at 6am this morning. Singapore was a resounding success, with people enjoying the chance to ‘chill’ (not quite in 33 plus heat but you know what I mean) and explore. While some chose coffee or the Singapore Sling at Raffles, others found Mustafa’s good value for shopping. St Andrew’s Cathedral, with its narrow central aisle to stop any processions, stands proudly in the middle of the city. The hotel swimming pool was well used, as were the various tours on offer to Changi, the bird sanctuary, night time river cruise etc. Having to check out at 6pm meant hanging around in the hotel lobby – time put to good use to exchange stories and join together in Evening Prayer. A little self-conscious with other guests wandering in and out, we threw inhibition to the wind and took up the Dean’s challenge to sing a hymn. What did the Buddhist wedding party make of “The Day thou gavest” echoing through into the banquet hall?
Today was to have been a rest day – but our tour guide suggested a walk into the Marienplase in Munich to see the famous Glockenspiele. Fifteen of us then decided to make our way to Dachau – not without some to-ing and fro-ing trying to work out which train to take and how to buy tickets. A sobering visit followed as we walked around the vast former Concentration Camp, trying to take in man’s inhumanity to man, the sheer evil of it all. Personally, I was delighted to discover the Carmelite Convent and Church – having heard much from Raymond Pelly about the praying nuns who have so intentionally positioned themselves in these unholy places. Time to light a candle and say a prayer.
Tonight we celebrated Trinity Eucharist in the hotel Breakfast Room, using a high chair as the altar (high church and ‘out of the mouths of babes…’) before going off for dinner and sampling the ample fare of Bavaria, and to welcome four of our party who have just joined us. Tomorrow it’s off to Oberammergau via Neuchwanstein Castle, and the Passion Play on Tuesday 1st June.
Frank
Singapore, Friday 28th May
It’s 33 degrees outside, pleasantly warm! We’ve arrived safely in Singapore on the first leg of the journey and most proved our local host’s prediction of a 3am wake-up correct. Lawrence has proved to be a mine of information as we travelled around seeing some of the sights – orchid section of the Botanical Gardens, Little India, the most amazing architectural structure (an ark floating many stories high on top of three tall towers) which is the latest casino, St Andrew’s Cathedral, several well-populated temples (it is a public holiday in honour of the Buddha’s enlightenment) and a brief stop in at China Town, and a sampling of kaya toast – deliciously light.
This afternoon people have been free to do their own thing, with a number organizing to go off to Changi, or shop, sleep, swim… Several members of the tour group have taken the opportunity to catch up with family and friends. This morning’s tour was a good opportunity to get to know each other, being encouraged to sit next to a different person every time we got back on the bus. With 28 of us here at present, others to join later, it takes a while to remember names and faces – especially when the dean thinks he doesn’t need to wear his name badge. Some have even greeted people in the lift they were sure they recognized as members of ‘our’ tour party. A persistent taxi driver tried several times, with much gesticulation, to off-load his four worried passengers, thinking our bus was theirs! Tomorrow – a day of rest, shopping and private sight-seeing before the long haul to Munich.
Frank
Wellington, Tuesday 25th May
Two nights before we leave and the packing and re-packing is happening in earnest. I am trying to be disciplined and not look at work emails. As Thursday morning approaches we are looking forward to the Bishop coming out to the airport to give us his blessing.
Frank
