Arriverdeci Italia!

3:00 am: the church bells sound the hour. I lay there until my alarm goes off, then haul myself out of this skinny long bed, throw some water on my face, and get ready.

I find my groggy companions in the lobby. We pack breakfast, drink coffee, load Giorgio and pull out at 4:10, only 10 min. late. It’s a dark, cold morning. A shooting star waves a goodbye. The amber lights of Bobbio Pellice disappear in a long curve of the mountain switchback.

And so ends our time in the Pellice Valley. Our trek home begins…I will hit my own pillow 23 hours later…

Arrivederci Italia! Until the next time…

On the Late Massacre in Piedmont

Avenge O Lord thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones
Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold,
Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old
When all our Fathers worship't Stocks and Stones,
Forget not: in thy book record their groanes
Who were thy Sheep and in their antient Fold
Slayn by the bloody Piemontese that roll'd
Mother with Infant down the Rocks. Their moans
The Vales redoubl'd to the Hills, and they
To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow
O're all th' Italian fields where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow
A hunder'd-fold, who having learnt thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian wo.

With the words of this sonnet the blind poet John Milton commemorated the terrible massacre of the Waldensians.
http://www.prca.org/books/portraits/walden.htm
 

Sunday--Part 3

After lunch we took a walk over to see OM Italy’s headquarters in an old Waldensian temple, in the center of Torre Pellice. The team is moving the office to Forterocca soon, so this temple could be available for studio space for the training program—would it work? We went over to check space and lighting, and yes, it could.

We continue on along the river, then return to Jill and Anna’s. I don’t think any of us feels like talking anymore, but we need one more meeting. It is our last opportunity to talk with the Tellos, get our action points on various lists, and tie up all loose conversational threads--at least for the moment. After prayer and goodbyes to the wonderfully hospitable OM Italy team, we head home for a last meal with Iz, and then get down to business.

At 10:00 pm, we finish, and head for our rooms to pack and swap camera cards to download photos before we split up tomorrow. Iz, a former spa director and hair and make-up artist, offers to cut my hair. While she snips, we talk about spa facilities here at Forterocca—we are not joking! The Waldensians must be turning over in their graves...but we are not far from the French Riviera. A spa could be a viable source of income for Forterocca, no?!

After snips and chit-chat, I return to my room, pack all but what I’ll need in the morning, and set the alarm for 3:15 am. I need to be in the van tomorrow at 4 am. I hit the pillow about midnight…to lay awake for a good long while, wondering what in the world the Lord has in store for us next…

We're not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we're merely wondering how painful the best will be - C. S. Lewis
 

The Valley of the Inconquerables

So, as you’ve learned by now, Torre Pellice is the cultural capital of the Waldensian Valley, rich with the history of Protestantism in Europe. It is also the spiritual capital of the Waldensians—the Valley of the Inconquerables as they are also known.



After church, Matthew took us to its spiritual heart: leading us through the center of town to via Beckwith, the Waldensian quarter, with several historic buildings: the New Temple, built in 1852, and Casa Valdese (Waldensian House), where each year the Synod, most important body in the government of the Church, meets.




The buildings are different architecturally from the typical Italian structures here in the valley, quite beautiful and orderly in line and form, and well-kept. Trees line the road, and persimmon trees dot the lawns. (And by the way, my first experience with a persimmon on this trip was not a happy one!)

Across the street, there is an athletic field, where the team has hosted sports events. Next to that is the Waldensian Cultural Center, with the Waldensian Museum, founded in 1889; it houses fine art and archaeological collections, with a modern art section, a library of 100,000 books, and photographic archives. The center also carries out cultural and publishing activities, and we hope to exhibit here one day.



This historical neighborhood covers the entire history of the Waldensians, from the Middle Ages through to today (we didn’t stop to see it all).



We are walking, and talking of course. So many questions…so many challenges…each of us with different ones, grilling the OM Italy team, as they are us. The Tellos have to raise funds, pack up their lives and move over. How will they handle culture and language learning? The Carsons have a baby on the way. Can they move over to Italy for any length of time? Can I?! I have funding issues, stamina issues, and wonder if I can handle the rigors of this training session.

We are ready in principle, but still counting the cost…the pile of work before us, and the lack of resources. Can Westerners, more used to comfort and convenience, sacrifice all—family, comfort, possibly life itself—to replicate what the Waldensians did—bring the light of the gospel to a post-modern Europe?

By the time we meander back over to Jill and Anna’s, after another obligatory stop for coffee, we still don’t know, but still ready to give it a try! It would be easy to think of the impossibilities, but I shake off the pressing concerns, ask God what my part is here, and sit down for dinner.

Sunday--Part 1

Today we will meet the Torre Pellice church. Mat and I will be sharing briefly. In true Italian fashion, we arrive about the time church is to start, and go for a cup of coffee. By the time we return about 20 min. later, the church has still not started! Love it.

One of the leaders opens with Eph. 1:17-22, my signature passage to talk about the “eyes of the heart” being opened. Mat turns to me excitedly—“That ties in exactly with what I want to say!” “Me too!” I respond. Nerves die down a little as we anticipate what God has in store for us and the church.

I share what my experience in this valley has meant, what God has impressed upon me. I spot David in the back row, attentive; Matthew a few rows forward, craning his neck to hear, the Italians nodding their heads, calling out the occasional English word as my conscripted translator, assigned at the last minute, struggles. I must be patient, as I have no idea how accurate she is being; another opportunity to trust God to communicate through her what he wants.


I am determined to express some measure of the passion and vision I sense God has not only for this area, for his martyrs, but for the present, in this valley. I close with a prayer from Henri Nouwen, and a verse from Isaiah:

“…God is the God of Life, in whom no death can be found…touch our death-oriented world and call forth new life. Bring life, joy and a new vitality to those who are walking in the shadow of death…Do not let your people be conquered by the dark forces of death, but let your life-giving power enter their bodies, hearts and minds and let them recognize you as the son of the Living God.”

“The mighty man will become tinder and his work a spark; both will burn together, with no one to quench the fire.”—Isaiah1:31

Mat’s up next, and shares his heart. The congregation is so receptive. Communion follows, while Jill nails us again with a fantastic rendition of Silent Night in two languages. The sermon follows. Fun to hear a blast of Italian, interrupted by the occasional question to us in French—“Vous comprenez? Do you understand?” I missed a lot, but got the gist, and am thrilled that in this valley, so many speak French. I get to share with a number of people, in French or English, after the service.

And then we’re off to lunch at Jill and Anna’s, but first, a detour…