Author: Don Clymer

You Are Beloved of God: Yet Again

I have used the phrase “you are beloved of God” many times in my writings. (See blog post June 29, 2013). I have also used it frequently in spirituality retreats and classes. Henri Nouwen, one of the most widely read authors on spirituality in our time, is the one who introduced me to this simple, yet profound phrase. He has a series of eight videoson the subject that are well worth watching.
In spite of how much I have used this phrase, and how much it has meant to others, I need to be reminded of this time and time again. There are many voices within me that want to distract me from this truth; voices from the past that tell me that I am not worthy of God’s love for this or that reason. Voices that tell me that I am what I do, that I am what others say about me, that I am what I possess or that I am a composite of all the experiences I’ve had. Indeed, all of these distractions form a part of whom I am, but the core truth that “I am beloved of God” needs to be foremost. 
Invariably, when I teach this phrase to others, they change the phrase to “you are beloved byGod” when repeating it. But there is a clear distinction between the two prepositions. Being loved by God is a good phrase to repeat. However, when we say, “you are beloved of God,” the phrase becomes much more intimate. “Of” shows possession, and means that we are in a much more intimate relationship with God. God “owns” us, if you please. Being loved “by” God is more general while being loved “of” God is more personal. 
If I encounter a person who is feeling low, I tell them that, “you are beloved of God.” You can literally see their eyes shine when they hear this phrase. Then I ask them to look at themselves in the mirror and state out loud, “You are beloved of God!” For some reason, it is extremely difficult for most people to do the mirror exercise. We are so used to seeing our ego and our outward appearance when we look in the mirror, that we forget that we also have a soul that needs to be groomed. It’s a great exercise, even if we are not feeling low. 
Not only is it difficult for most of us to believe that we are beloved of God, but it is often more difficult to understand that others are beloved of God as well. That is especially true for those who are different from us. Can we think of the person who offends us politically or theologically as being beloved of God? How would such an exercise change our view of the person? With all the vitriol being spewed these days on all sides of any given issue, this simple exercise could help us remember that we are all created in God’s image and likeness. 
I often stroll through the streets of the cities I visit, whether at home or abroad, and look at strangers in the eye while smiling and say to them silently, “You are beloved of God.” In the vast majority of these moments I am rewarded with a larger than normal return smile. We are all in need of the reminder that we are beloved of God. 
   
Soli Dei gloria 

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Random Encounters and God Moments

The waiter came to our table to take our order. I sensed he was not a Swiss native by his accent. I thought perhaps he was Italian, since many Italians work in Switzerland, and a large number in service jobs in restaurants. When he returned with our order, I ventured to ask him where he was originally from. When he said Spain, I immediately started speaking Spanish with him. He beamed from ear to ear to hear his native language. We exchanged small talk; he lived in the apartment above the restaurant, he was here for 25 years, and so forth. Whenever he passed by our table, he had the biggest grin on his face. We connected.
We were having dinner at a restaurant by the Aare, one of Switzerland’s most famous rivers. The waitress picked up immediately that we weren’t locals. My wife Esther asked her to explain the ingredients of several dishes in Swiss German, but she heard us passing on the information to my brother and his wife in English. When she returned to take our order, my Brother ordered in Standard German, Esther and I in Swiss German, and my sister-in-law in English. She didn’t skip a beat. When she returned with the food, I complimented her on how well she could get along in all three languages, and that her English, which was not her native language, was very good. She beamed. Some chitchat ensued; she only had what she called “school book English,” and knew just enough to serve English-speaking customers. I was surprised at how good her accent was for what she claimed to know. We connected. 
A waiter approached us at another café. He asked us for our order in Swiss, but soon again discovered there were some English speakers at the table. He immediately spoke fluent English to us, and said, “I’m a [US] American, but born here in Switzerland.” He had also lived several years in the USA before coming back to work in Switzerland at a resort. As he passed our table while going about his duties, we kept up a little dialog. We connected. 
We connected with more than just waiters and waitresses on our recent tours of Switzerland’s natural wonders with my brother and his wife. We were eating our packed lunch in a lookout tower facing the North Face of Switzerland’s iconic Eiger Mountain. As we were finishing, a couple climbed the stairs to join us in enjoying the view. I greeted them, and could tell by their return greeting that they weren’t Swiss, so I began speaking Standard German with them. A very delightful conversation ensued. When the woman discovered that we were from the USA, she began speaking with my sister-in-law in English. We must have spent 20 minutes discovering each other’s realities. He was a retired German locomotive engineer, and had a free rail pass to travel across Europe. His wife could travel with him at half price. They usually travelled to Austria on their vacations, which was just as beautiful as Switzerland, but less expensive. We connected.
Esther and I in the lookout tower.
On the way down the mountainside on a train that day, I was curious about the oriental couple sitting beside me. There were busloads of oriental people wherever we travelled in Switzerland. Some look like Koreas, others looked Chinese, but I was quite curious where they were from. After a few minutes in silence, I asked them if they spoke German or English. They smiled that I had wanted a conversation with them, and answered in very broken English. Imagine my surprise when they said they were from Macau.  “The Las Vegas of China,” the man said with a big grin. “We are as expensive as Switzerland,” he proudly continued. We tried to proceed with the conversation, but it was torturous. Yet he really wanted an exchange, so I plodded on. Patience, deep listening, all earmarks of a good communicator, were stretched to the breaking point. However, seeing their huge grins and exchanging a very nice, “have a nice trip” at the end of the train ride, made all the efforts worthwhile. We connected. 
These interesting random encounters happened to me over the past several days. I have travelled many times in many areas, especially Central Europe and Latin America. I have been thrown together with many people from most parts of the world. There was a time, however, that I didn’t take so well to chance encounters. In fact, I did whatever I could to avoid them. Reluctance to engage in small talk and perhaps a dose of arrogance kept me from doing it. Perhaps the arrogance has mellowed with age, along with my reluctance to engage in small talk. Connections across cultures and languages can become God moments when we realize that our souls are all similarly stamped with God’s image and likeness. 
Many years ago, when I was in my arrogant stage, I was travelling with a colleague and a group of students to Spain. My colleague and I went out to experience some tapas at a local café in Madrid. While we were enjoying the tasty munchies, a crew from Swiss Air walked into the café. My colleague, who was as interested in Switzerland as in Spain, insisted that I go up to talk to them. He knew I could speak (some) Swiss German, and he wanted to know what they were up to. At that time there was no way in Hades that I wanted to do that. But he insisted, and persisted, so I finally gave in. When we first approached them, they looked at us as if we had come from Mars. When they discovered that I was a [US] American who could speak Swiss, they were overwhelmingly welcoming! As it turned out, they were a pilot, a co-pilot and two stewardesses on layover for a trip the next day to the USA. We exchanged wonderful conversations about their lives as cross-cultural flyers and my life as a cross-cultural leader. We connected. It was a God moment. 
I could tell endless stories of random encounters over the years, many which I initiated, and most of which I did not. I wonder how often I’ve missed, during my years as an arrogant world traveler, the many opportunities I had to witness God’s good creation in human form in myriads of manifestations. Random encounters often lead to God moments and bridge gaps of understanding that too often are forced on us by the tribal narrow-mindedness of our cultural, religious or political bubbles. I challenge you, and myself to continue to be open to experiencing God and connections to random encounters. 
   

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Bumbling Though Swiss Social Conventions

After years of fairly graciously weaving my way through Swiss cultural proclivities, my US American perspective still trips me up unexpectedly at times, making me feel like a bumbling idiot. Yesterday was a good example.
My nephew threw himself a 40-year-old birthday party. This is the custom in Switzerland whenever you turn a new decade. Some 50 people, family, church and close friends, were invited to help him celebrate the event in his church’s fellowship hall. 
Before the party even began, my first blunder was misunderstanding the invitation. It said: “informal come-and-go, drop-in party with appetizers beginning around 3 pm.” So in my US understanding, that meant show up, grab a handful of chips, a drink, make small talk with those you know while avoiding those you can’t stand. An hour and a half commitment stretched to two hours if there was a particularly interesting person you met. I estimated that we would arrive a bit before 4 pm and leave at around 7 pm. However, by 9 pm, no one had yet made the slightest move to leave. I guess my definition of the informal “go” part went missing. 
Another mix-up came by way of the invitation. It specifically stated “no gifts; your presence is enough, but if you insist, we’d be very happy for cash toward our family vacation.” So we took that literally. A little card with a large bill stuck inside. When we made our way to the gift table to proudly place our card among the others, we were surprised and embarrassed to see dozens of large, creative gifts piled on the table. Oh, my, I guess Google Translate doesn’t do so well with Swiss German. 
 
My nephew, center, breaking balloons with clever gag gifts in them for each year.
The next gaffe was made upon arrival. About a third of the guests had arrived before us. At least our concept of “come” was similar, we didn’t need to be exactly on time. Esther and I entered, congratulated the birthday boy profusely, then shook hands and greeted those who we knew. Then we grabbed a handful of salty snacks and a drink and sat down. At a US American event, we can enter, wave and say “hi everyone,” then head to those we know to strike up a conversation. Shaking hands no longer seems necessary. In Switzerland, however, social conventions are different. As more people streamed in, they went around the whole room, shaking everyone’s hand and introducing themselves. Oops. What an ungracious, social nincompoop I am.  
My next faux pas was related to drinking conventions. I was accustomed to waiting at a sit-down meal in Switzerland, until the host offered a toast before beginning to drink. But this was an informal buffet, with people milling around, coming and going as they pleased, so I could drink without the formal toast, right? Wrong! Whenever a new drink was introduced, white with the appetizer, red with the meal, schnapps at the end of the meal for digestion (yes, this was in a church fellowship hall), a new toast had to be raised to the two or three gathered nearest you. Even across the room, before anyone would take their first sip, they would offer an air toast to anyone within eyesight. 
And then the refills. Swiss tend to sip their wine, and US Americans tend to gulp theirs (subject of another post). Even using my most patient sipping skills, my glass was empty before anyone else’s. Just grab the bottle in front of you and fill it up, right? Wrong again! Before pouring for yourself, you must ask everyone else near you if they want more. Only then is it proper to serve yourself. 
Food provided the next vehicle for exposing my social ineptness. Informal buffet, remember? Well, by the time we finally got to serve ourselves, I was pretty hungry. I was the second person through the line, and sat down with my brother-in-law, looking to him for cues on when to begin. He wasn’t very helpful, as he kept being distracted by questions from another passerby waiting in line. Not only was the smell driving me crazy, but my food was getting cold. When nobody was looking I sneaked a bite. I knew it was improper, because before you eat, you must wait to say to everyone around you, “E Guete;” the Swiss equivalent of the French “bon appetite” or the Spanish “buen provecho.” Unfortunately, I must point out the paucity of the English language. We have no equivalent expression. Or maybe it’s a paucity of formalities. Either way, I was hungry! 
After eating and conversation it was now 9 pm. My brain had dealt with as much Swiss German as possible without being fried. It seemed like time to go, but as stated earlier, no one else showed any inclination to leave. Yet, if we wanted to catch the train that would get us home before 10 pm, we had to make our move. Awkwardly, we made our way toward the door. Since we had a train to catch, I thought that people would understand if we left without shaking all 50 people’s hands. In the USA, we can make our exit, wave, and say: “See ya.” Esther assured me that I was wrong once again. So dutifully I went around the huge room shaking everyone’s hand and trying to say their name while biding adieu. Under such pressure, I doubt if I remembered a third of their names. They all seemed to remember my name. I’m afraid it was an association with the current president of the USA that served as a memory crutch for them. 
We made the train in time, and on the way home I reflected on my incompetence as a Yankee in Esther’s court. In spite of my social blunders, I had a wonderful time. I made a number of new friends, particularly the pastor of the church and a woman from Canada who married a Swiss man. She spoke Swiss German better than I (boy that was hard to admit. Guess my Swiss “Demut” is taking hold). Perhaps at the next Swiss social event I can sit back, relax, and participate in the conventions without looking so foolish. Truth be told, most of my errors were due to impatience and self-centeredness. Indeed, social conventions are important to hold a society together, and need to be learned when crossing cultures. In the end, however, more important than making exactly the right move or saying the proper thing, is the willingness to open relationships across cultural divides. I don't think I'm a bumbling idiot at doing that.  
         

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Anabaptists and Reformed Siblings of Reformation in Zürich

“Zürich has always been known as the seat of the (Zwingli) Reformation in Switzerland,” stated Peter Dettwiler, retired pastor of the Grössmünster Reformed Church in Zürich. “But Zürich was also the seat of the beginnings of the Anabaptist movement.”
“Anabaptists are siblings of the Reformation in Zürich,” declared Nina Sonderegger, pastor of the Reformed Church in Heimisbach, near Trachselwald.  “Unfortunately, this has been ignored for nearly 500 years.” 
“Reading the Bible in small groups in their homes does not make (Anabaptists) a sect,” affirmed Catherine McMillan, in her “Das Wort zum Sonntag“ (The Word for Sunday) broadcast to the Swiss people on November 5, 2016. She is a Reformed pastor from Dübendorf and a Reformed Church Ambassador for Ecumenical relationships. “Their Jesus is the same as ours; they read his words in their Bible study groups from the Sermon on the Mount with different eyes.” 
“Many Mennonites and Amish, descendants of the Anabaptists, came to visit Switzerland from the United States and Canada,” said Don Siegrist, visitor from Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania. “We visited sites related to Anabaptist history, but we had little contact with the Zwingli Reformed people themselves. We had been erased from their history.” 
Peter Dettwiler shows slides of his visit Amish country in Pennsylvania.
These statements came from two recent meetings in Switzerland which I attended. The meetings were reunions of Swiss Reformed delegations who visited Anabaptist peoples in the United States, many of whom trace their roots to Switzerland. These efforts for more contact between Swiss Reformed and Anabaptist groups began after “A Day of Reconciliation” held on June 26, 2004, in which ambassadors from the Zwingli Reformed Church of Switzerland, asked representatives from various Anabaptist groups for forgiveness for the years of ostracizing and persecution. As a result of these efforts, a plaque in honor of the first Anabaptist Martyr in Zürich, Feliz Manz, and the last, Hans Landis, was placed along the Limmat River in Zürich, near where they were drowned. 
The plaque honoring Felix Manz and Hans Landis, Anabaptist martyrs.
Throughout Switzerland in 2017, the 500th anniversary of the Reformation is being celebrated. As part of these celebrations, there has been increased interest in the forgotten part of the Reformation for most Swiss; the Anabaptist story that arose at the same time as a sibling of the Zürich Reformation. For example, at the St. Matthäuskirche in Basel, Switzerland, I will join with Swiss Mennonite historian, Hanspeter Jecker, in sharing the history of Anabaptists/Mennonites; he about those who stayed, and I about those who emigrated. 
Another example of these celebrations were the two recent meetings that I attended, both with the title, “The Reformed and the Anabaptists.” The first meeting was held in Heimisbach, a village nestled in the Emmental Valley, near Trachselwald. There is still a strong Anabaptist presence in this area, even though they were pushed to farm on impossibly steep mountainsides (see photographs from blog post Whither the Wengers). Trachselwaldis also the site of the castle where many Anabaptists were imprisoned and tortured. 
An unexpectedly large crowd of over 60 people showed up to hear the story of the Anabaptists, see a slide show of visits to Anabaptist-related groups in the USA, and to hear words from tour hosts Don and Joanne Siegrist. The presenters were peppered with questions related particularly to the Amish. 
Grössmünster in Zürich, Switzerland, where meeting took place.
The meeting in Zürich took place in the facilities of the Grössmünster, perhaps even where Zwingli debated with early Anabaptist leaders Conrad Grebel and Felix Manz. Even though it was mostly a reunion of people who participated in the Reformed-Anabaptist exchanges, it was clear that there was great interest and respect for Anabaptist groups among the Reformed who were present. 
“Tell an Amish person that you are from Switzerland,” stated Don Siegrist in his remarks at both meetings. “And you will see their eyes light up. They still consider Switzerland to be their homeland.” In fact, the Siegrists have compiled a list of cultural characteristics that the Amish and the Swiss have in common. The respect went both ways. 
Joanne Siegrist (second left) speaks with representatives of the Reformed Church in Zürich, including Pfarrerin Christine McMillan (right).
It was refreshing for me to hear directly from people of the Zwingli Reformed Church, especially the words in the video by Reformed Pastor Catherine McMillan. My visits to Switzerland stretch over 36 years, and Mennonites (Anabaptists) have mostly been considered by the general populace a sect to be scorned and shunned. Even though this is still the case, the fact that church leaders are providing an alternate view on the national media, is a change in the right direction. Also, the fact that these two meetings generated such interest in Reformed-Anabaptist relationships is an encouraging sign. 
Siblings of the Reformation. In Switzerland, through actions taken and show by leaders in the Zwingli Reformed Church, Anabaptists have been elevated to a position alongside the Zwingli Reformation. This not only gives credibility to the long-ignored Anabaptist movement, but also helps to forge new relationships with fellow Christians. 
Retired Pfarrer Peter Dettwiler, right, was one of the original promoters of "A Day of Reconciliation" from the Zwingli Reformed movement. He has led Swiss on numerous tours of Anabaptist areas of the USA. I met him originally when he spoke at an EMU chapel on the reconciliation between Anabaptist groups and the Zwingli Reformed Church.

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