Yesterday, Thursday January 20, began simple enough having a small baguette with ham, cheese, and tomato and a coffee with milk. It is now my breakfast “go to” each morning. Antico Cafe is about a block away from my AirBnB and always seemed to be crowded when I walked by, so figured the food must be good. And, I must say, it was the best coffee I’ve had so far. Little did I know what was in store for the day. A LOT!
Before Sagrada de Familia grabbed all the attention regarding beautiful churches in Barcelona, the Catedral de Barcelona had been the central and most important church in the area. It is a church that was begun in the 13th Century, but not completed until the 15th Century. It has the traditional feel of old stone Gothic churches. It’s major claim is the 13 Geese that reside in the adjoining cloister as a symbol of Barcelona’s co-patron saint, Santa Eulalia, a 13 year old Roman Martyr whose story is that she was stripped naked in the public square by the Romans in mid spring and a miraculous snowfall covered her nudity. The angry Romans then put her in a barrel with knives stuck into it and rolled it down the street. Oh, history, and what we humans are capable of!
You can also go up on the rooftop of the church and see much of Barcelona. Here are a few pictures of the church - you’ll notice a huge contrast from this Cathedral compared with Gaudi’s Sagrada de Familia in terms of light and color. In fact, it wasn’t until recently that electric lighting was added to the sanctuary. My favorite pictures are: the organ, the central choir surround which is in the middle of the sanctuary, and the hanging cross with Christ in the front of the church.
I had lunch at Taverns del Bisbe:
Tomato, Burrata, and Basil Salad, so simple but so delicious. And Pappardelle de Mare with Squid, Clams, Mussels and Shrimp. The sauce that it was cooked in was divine!
From here I wandered a bit and came to a street performer. He was in a wheelchair and “dancing” to the music. The lower part of both his legs were missing. And yet with every turn of the wheelchair and every movement of his body he conveyed the essence of the music. I watched, captivated by his ability to still share joy and wonder in the face of tragedy and the fortitude it must have taken to overcome whatever had occurred. As I watched with the rest of the crowd, a child ran up from the side and became enraptured by his dance, showing astounding delight in what he was doing. The street dancer bounced and did wheelies in his chair and the child screeched in excitement, jumping up and down. And the dancer played into the joy and performed even more wondrously. The child did not see a man who was disabled in a wheelchair. He only saw a man who was providing him with something to smile and giggle about.
I did not capture a good picture of this exchange…I was too captivated myself of the wordless but joyous exchange between them. But here is the picture I got, just when the child turned around to look for his parents.
Walking back to catch the metro for a little respite before dinner, I spotted the most adorable little cafe called Caelum Barcelona.
I had another coffee with milk and an almond cake which was a very famous Spanish cake from the center of Spain, but “actually famous everywhere”, as I was told. He repeated the name of it to me several times but I could only remember that it ended with Sara, like the female name. It had five thin layers of “sponge”, as it is called on the Great British Baking Contest, between equally thin layers of delightful cream, smothered in toasted almonds. It was similar to something I’ve gotten as an almond torte back home, but oh so much better! It was their “pastry of the day”, so not on their regular menu, which I downloaded. You might be thinking that I’m going to weigh 100 lbs more by the time I get home, but portions in America are far different than they are in Europe. This pastry was about half the size of a muffin, and my coffee was barely the size of a tiny teacup. However, I savored every bite and sip!
For dinner, I had scheduled a cooking class to learn how to make Paella, which I’m told originally comes from Valencia, just south of Barcelona. It was one of the best experiences I’ve had in a long time! It was held at The Paella Club, where a couple of local chefs got together about 4-5 years ago and developed this concept of teaching people about Paella and how to make it correctly. The store that’s attached also has every possible ingredient you need to make it AND the proper equipment, too. First, some pictures, and then story about my dinner companions and what made the evening so special for me.
Most of the pictures show us in the process of making the Paella. There were some other “dishes” thrown in for our dinner as well. We had an appetizer of toasty bread with tomato, olive oil, and Black Sea Salt, a gazpacho soup (best I’ve ever had!), and then we got to taste each “teams” Paella - Black Squid Ink, mixed seafood, shrimp, vegetarian, chicken, and pork, and finally too finish dinner - a chocolate mousse. Of course, lots of wine accompanied our cooking, both in and out of the pan as well as at dinner.
There were a total of 13 of us, so we were split into teams of two with one team having three. We were all from the US except for the person who became my partner, Adolf, who was from Lake Constance in Switzerland which is on the German border. To our left was the team of three, a mom with her two kids. There was a group of three adults (mid-forties) one each from Boston, Denver, and Chicago who all knew each other from college and had been going on vacation together every year since. This year, it happened to be Barcelona. Two mixed couples - late twenties I’d say who seemed to know each other - and a single young man from Sacramento. There was a lot of wonderful, convivial, and exciting conversations which our chef-hosts were perfect at creating. My partner, Adolf, who I’m guessing was about 25 years old (only because when I told him that our son was 24, he said, “oh, well I’m just older than that) asked me what I did for a living. I told him that I was a pastor. He works in computer software development, by the way.
He told me that his uncle was a priest in the Catholic Church. I had to explain in brief what being Presbyterian meant; a branch of Protestant churches. He got a little quiet at first after that, but then he had something to say that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. Although he said he loves his uncle, who is very charismatic and gives great speeches, “I don’t really go to church.” He then said, “I hear in the US it’s different.” I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, so I asked him. “I understand that the church is more the center of the community, that people go to you for guidance and support, and that you spend most of your time helping others. I have a lot of respect for that. I think that’s what the church should be doing. My uncle just talks, he doesn’t actually do any of the things he talks about and neither does the church.” In my mind, I wondered…are we REALLY the center of our community? Are we REALLY acting out the gospel message?
We spent the rest of the evening sharing the core of our faith journeys, about our families and what interested us the most in life. The mom and her two kids were drawn into our conversation and they shared a lot, too.
Later, that evening, I made an observation: Many of the older cities in the world (at least in the places I’ve visited in my life), towns had main squares. And in each main square there is a church on one side, a government building on the other, shops/restaurants/and maybe even a school on the others. Often, the square is used for community events/outdoor markets/social gatherings, etc…
If Adolf is right, that the church should be the center of the community, these towns were even set up that way. They are the physical center of the community, yet to him they are not fulfilling that role. Most US towns have not been set up that way, and yet Adolf has heard that in the US the church is the center of the community. Are we? Where did he get that understanding?
I currently serve two churches in different towns. My Olivet church may have, at one time (100 years ago) been the center of the community where it physically stands. But the church’s backside now faces what is the main artery that goes through the town and the front of the church is on a one way street that doesn’t face much but the railroad tracks. My other church, Bethesda, is separated from the main town by an overpass when Route 51 was expanded into the major road it is now. We are not the physical center of our towns.
Obviously, we don’t have to be the physical center of a community to still be the center of the community. But are we even that?
I was told quite some time ago that church trends in the US are about 10-15 years behind Europe. That information may be outdated at this point and we are right where Europe is today, as well.
Here is a 25 year old who has been disenchanted with the church where he grew up because “it doesn’t live out the gospel.” I’m not sure we’ve been living out the gospel message either, for quite some time. How can we change that?
Having recently come from Pittsburgh, PA in the US, I was convicted by a 25 year old from Lake Constance, Switzerland in Barcelona, Spain. Did I have to come half-way around the world to hear that or think about that? Maybe/maybe not. But during a cooking class on making Paella in Barcelona I was making connections to food, faith, and family. I had developed this Sabbatical to do EXACTLY what had just occurred and yet, in some ways I was unprepared for what lesson God was showing me.
Maybe this is where we start? Shared story, over a meal, in the company of family and new friends. Maybe this is how we become the center of our communities again. Maybe this is how we find the lost, the lonely, the disenfranchised, those in need. Maybe this is how we live out the gospel.
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