History

From the Archives: La Nobla Leyczon (The Noble Lesson)

A 15th-century Waldensian poem

O Brethren give ear to a noble lesson,

We ought always to watch and pray,

For we see this world to be near a conclusion,

We ought to strive to do good works,

For we see the end of this world to approach.

A thousand and one hundred years are fully accomplished*

Since it was written thus, “It is the last time,”

We ought to covet little, for we are at the remainder.

We daily see the signs to be accomplished

In the increase of evil and the decrease of good.

These are the perils which the Scripture mentions;

The gospel recognizes it, and Saint Paul writes it, that no man living can know the end,

And therefore we ought the more to fear, for we are uncertain.

If death shall seize us today or tomorrow;

But when Jesus shall come at the day of judgement,

Every one shall receive his full payment.

And who shall have done either ill, or done well.

But the Scripture saith, and we ought to believe,

That all men of the world shall pass two ways.

The good shall go to glory, the wicked to torment.

But he that shall not believe this departure,

Let him search the Scripture from its beginning,

Since Adam was formed, till the present time,

In it he shall find, if he has understanding,

That “few are saved” in comparison to the rest.

But every person who will do good,

The honor of God the Father ought to be his beginning,

And to call the aid of his glorious Son, the Son of Saint Mary,

And the Holy Spirit who gives us the way. These three are the Holy Trinity,

As being one God, ought to be invoked,

Full of all Power, of all Wisdom, and of all Goodness.

For this we ought often to beg and pray

That he give us strength to encounter the enemies,

And overcome them before our end,

Which are the World, the Devil, and the Flesh;

And that he would give us wisdom, accompanied with goodness,

That we may know the way of truth,

And keep pure that soul which God has given us,

The soul and body in the way of charity …

Now after the apostles were certain teachers,

Who taught the way of Jesus Christ our Saviour;

And these are found even at this present day,

But they are known to very few,

Who have a great desire to teach the way of Jesus Christ,

But they are so persecuted, that they are able to do but little,

So much are the false Christians blinded with error,

And more than the rest they that are pastors,

For they persecute and hate those who are better than themselves,

And let those live quietly who are false deceivers.

But by this we may know that they are not good pastors,

For they love not the sheep, but only for the fleeces.

The Scripture saith, and it is evident,

That if any man love those who are good,

He must needs love God, and Jesus Christ,

Such an one will neither curse, swear, nor lie,

He will neither commit adultery, nor kill;

He will neither defraud his neighbor,

Nor avenge himself of his enemies.

Now such an one is termed a Waldensian, and worthy to be punished,

And they find occasion by lies and deceit,

To take from him that which he has gotten by his just labor.

However, he that is thus persecuted for the fear of the Lord, strengthens himself greatly,

By this consideration, that the kingdom of heaven shall be given him at the end of the world.

Then he shall have a weight of glory in recompense for all such dishonor.

But in this is clearly manifest the malice of those men,

That they who will curse, lie, and swear,

He that will frequently put his money to usury, kill, and avenge himself on those who hate him;

This they say is a good man, and to be accounted faithful …

For I dare say, and it is very true,

That all the popes that have been from Sylvester to the present,

And all Cardinals, Bishops, Abbots, and the like,

Have no power to absolve or pardon,

Any creature so much as one mortal sin,

It is God alone who pardons, and no other.

But this ought they do who are pastors,

They ought to preach to the people, and pray with them,

And feed them often with divine doctrine, …

That we may be of the number of his elect to dwell in his courts forever,

Praise be to God. Amen.

[* The thousand years referred to here is 1,000 years from the so-called Donation of Constantine to Pope Sylvester I in the 4th century. In Waldensian theology, this was a turning point in history where the Church compromised with the world; the event ushered in “the last days.”]

Preserved in Moreland’s History of the Evangelical Churches of the VAlleys of Piedmont (London, 1658). This book is available in a facsimile reprint; (see For Further Reading).

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine. Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

History

An Ancient and Undying Light

Giorgio Bouchard

The Waldensians from the 12th Century to the Protestant Reformation

In this series

Despite centuries of severe persecution, these Christians from the Italian Alps, through the strength of their commitment to Christ, the Bible, and a life of poverty, maintained their evangelical identity, and faithfully carried the Gospel torch from the 12th century to the Reformation.

The late 12th century in Europe was a time rich in spiritual ferment and in its various expressions of religious experience. It is in this distant, shifting period that an ancient group of evangelical Christians—the Waldensians—first appear in the regions of Lyons (France) and, slightly later, Milan (Italy).

In the earliest days the members of this movement were simply called “The Poor.” From their seemingly insignificant beginnings, with the odds against their survival as a distinct group, they did survive, and their difficult journey of faith stands out in history.

More than three centuries would pass before the Waldensians would build their own church buildings and view themselves as outside of the mother church; they would eventually melt into the Protestant Reformation. But until that time in the 16th century, The Poor would live as a scattered but closely knit movement within the Roman Church, with a central devotion to Christ, the Scriptures, and a life of poverty in conformity to the example of the Apostles.

In the context of their turbulent time, the emergence of the Waldensian Movement was not exceptional. What is surprising is their survival for such a long period of time. Far from being welcomed by the Church authorities, the Waldensians were harshly repressed. (As opposed to the case, for example, of the great monastic founder Francis of Assisi [1181–1226] and his followers—whose ideas were quite similar in spirit and intention with those of the Waldensians.)

In light of this, the fact that during three centuries the movement of The Poor was able not only to survive but to expand, always attracting new adherents and bringing its testimony into new areas, merits our recognition and special consideration.

Why the Waldensians?

Where can we turn to find an explanation for this success? To the strength of the convictions of single believers? This does not seem to be the case, for in the same period there were other believers just as fervent, of whom every trace has been lost, often cancelled by repression. No, conviction of faith, courage in the face of persecution, and force of spirit do not provide in themselves a satisfactory explanation for the survival of the Waldensians.

We might turn instead (and recent historians have) to reasons of a social and economic nature. Perhaps, since they were simple believers from the most humble classes on the fringe of society, the Waldensians did not constitute a threat to the establishment. They could, therefore, conduct their underground existence without any great risk.

However, this interpretation of the Waldensian phenomenon is contradicted by the evidence: the documentation shows that the Waldensians were present and active in all social classes, in the countryside and in the cities, among farmers and among merchants.

Our answer to the mystery of Waldensian survival and growth is of a different nature: The movement of The Poor was able to survive the Middle Ages because it never closed itself with a sectarian spirit (that is, it did not see itself as an exclusive group, spiritually superior to other Christians); rather, it knew how to continuously renew itself spiritually and theologically. This was possible because, though their social structure and their way of life might change, from their time of origin the Waldensians had a clear and original message to which they held firmly, and to which they remained faithful.

We could say that the Waldensian strength can be found exactly in certain terms we have used so far in referring to them: they were a movement, and a movement of the poor.

Waldo of Lyons and Waldensian Beginnings

These essential Waldensian characteristics already appear clearly in the experience of the founder of the movement, Waldo of Lyons [see A Prophet Without Honor]. This merchant, who lived in the French city at the end of the 12th century, did not intend to give life to a new community that would oppose the Church. He did not intend to found a sect, nor to gather around himself a faithful group to carry his name and espouse his ideas. He did not present himself as a preacher with new ideas, new revelations, or particular interpretations to communicate (something which has occured frequently in the history of the Christian Church).

He had but one purpose: to live the Christian faith according to the teaching of the Gospel; or, to express it in terms closer to the spirituality of his time, to follow Jesus as the apostles did.

He wanted to relive the experience of Jesus’ first disciples. And in this sense we can apply to Waldo and his followers the curious and fascinating definition used at a later time by an inquisitor who was intent on persecuting the Waldensians: they were Nudi nudum Christum sequentes (naked disciples of a naked Christ). The unusual (and to us probably startling) use here of the adjective “naked” can be understood in two ways: with nothing on—that is materially poor, and also, without religious extras, in the sense of Christ only. For the Waldensians, Christ was to be followed in his poverty, and also as the only reference point for faith.

Following Jesus as the apostles did involved certain things for Waldo and his followers. They emphasized the importance of hearing and understanding the Word of God—the Bible; it was from the Scriptures that men and women would know Christ as the center of their faith. They lived in voluntary poverty and were persistent in their intent to preach in public. This last activity was the one that particularly offended the religious leaders of their time, and which brought the wrath of the Catholic Church down upon them.

The archbishop of Lyons attempted to stop Waldo from his public preaching. When he found he could not, he expelled him from the city. Already a group of friends had gathered around Waldo who were devoted to following his example. They did not call themselves “brothers” or “disciples,” as was commonly done in the monastic orders in those days, but referred to themselves as Waldo’s “co-members,” and to their group as a “society.” They took these terms from the business language of the time and not from the religious; it is as if they feared that other Christians would think that they were claiming to found a new religious association superior to the existing Church. They wanted only to be a group of laypersons who were collaborating for a precise goal: in this case, to preach the Gospel. This dedication to preaching provoked a strong reaction from the Church, which led to a search for The Poor of Lyons and to their excommunication as heretics.

By Whose Authority?

It will be helpful here to refer to the Church’s theology at the time. Public preaching, according to the medieval theologians, was reserved for the clergy. They were, as the successors to the apostles, and in virtue of their ordination, the only ones qualified to exercise this ministry. (This notion of apostolic authority being passed down from generation to generation by ordination in the Church is called Apostolic Succession.) So according to Church belief and practice at the time, Waldo the merchant, not being ordained, was not a successor of the apostles, and therefore did not have the right to preach.

Now this is precisely the idea that Waldo contested. He, as one who had called upon the Lord, affirmed that he was called to be a disciple of Christ, even as were the apostles. And who are the real successors of the apostles? Not necessarily those who are ordained, he argued, but rather those who respond to the Lord’s call and live like the apostles of old. What makes one a true heir to the apostles is not ordination, but fidelity to God’s word. Authority to preach did not come through the visible Church order, but by Christ himself.

The consequences of such a belief as this would have been enormous for the Church in Waldo’s time, for the Medieval Church believed that it was the exclusive channel through which God administered his Spirit. If Waldo’s idea had been accepted, the Church could not have been looked upon as the sole depository of the Spirit. Waldo believed that God’s Word and his Spirit do surely act in the Church, but are not solely administered by it.

Probably Waldo did not realize the radical implications of his affirmations, and he continued to feel in full communion with the church, with its tradition, and with all believers. However, the Roman curia (i.e., the Catholic Church government) recognized the danger and after a few years the Poor of Lyons were considered heretics, thus starting their long call to martyrdom.

Against the Donation of Constantine

In the 13th century, especially at its beginning, The Poor were present in Languedoc and Lombardy, that is, Northern Italy (where they were called The Poor of Lombardy). A century later the inquisitors found numerous communities in the Danube Valley in Austria, and in Northern Germany. Already in these periods there appeared an organization, divided into small groups with certain individuals responsible for the care of each group. (In some cases the terms of the official church were even used for these leaders, such as apostle, or prefect.) These various small groups, to a certain degree, were independent, and able to pursue their particular vision of the religious life.

Formally, however, the Waldensians continued to be a part of the Roman Church, where they baptized their children and took communion at least once a year, as was the common practice. They were still within the boundaries of the Church of Rome, and they did nothing that would highlight their criticisms of the Church.

Essentially two things distinguished them from those around them:

1) Before everything else they sought an absolute fidelity to the words of Jesus, in particular to the Sermon on the Mount. Consequently they rejected any form of violence. Not only did they oppose the violence of war and particularly that of the Crusades, but they also opposed “legal” violence, the kind practiced by the courts.

2) They refused to take oaths (based on Matthew 5:33–37), and opposed the practice of lending money at interest. These positions not only stirred reactions from the religious establishment, but the political powers also came to view the Waldensians as dangerous rebels also.

What was the Waldensian motivation for such radicalism? Harsh moral standards, a desire for purity, and coherence with the Gospel? This has often been the explanation. Weren’t the Waldensians just simple people, without influential persons in their ranks, merely trying their best to interpret the Gospel and follow it as best they could? This does not appear to be the case.

To be accurate, the Waldensians were in fact not naive, simplistic interpreters of the Scriptures, but they had an acute understanding of the place of Christian faith in history. They believed that the Church, when it is faithful to its true calling, follows in the steps of the apostles. They also knew that the Church can be unfaithful—and that this infidelity shows itself when Christ’s spirit of humility and poverty are abandoned for the worldly quest for temporal riches and power. They were convinced that when the Church becomes a worldly power it loses its spirit. The strength of their interpretation came through their pinpointing the moment in history in which they believed this betrayal took place: the 4th century, when Christianity was consecrated as the state religion by the emperor Constantine. That event (which is generally considered a great victory) was in reality, according to the Waldensians, the beginning of the Church’s decline; it was a compromise with the world.

“We,” said the Waldensians, “are the true disciples of Christ because we deny the Donation of Constantine” [see “The Donation of Constantine”], that is, the compromise of the Church with the world. In this they avoided two attitudes that would have been self-destructive: 1) a feeling that they were outside, or excluded from the Church, which would have led to a sectarian spirit—a closed-group mentality; and 2) a snobbish attitude of seeing themselves as the only true examples of faith, and therefore against the Church. They certainly did have a sense of being the most faithful part of the Church, but without a sense of sectarianism, or of separatism.

The Influence of Hus

This view of being a movement to return to the true apostolic example within the Church, without being separatistic, helps us see why, at the start of the 15th century, the Waldensians became followers of the renewal movement within Christian theology guided by the great Bohemian (Czech) preacher and theologian John Hus.

Hus was condemned and burned at the stake in 1415 for his teachings. He was a devoted Catholic, but taught that the Catholic Church’s authority was secondary to the Bible’s (not equal, as the Church taught), so even laypeople could judge the Church’s actions by Scripture, and therefore the Bible should be translated for public use. He also taught that the real spiritual Church of Christ was not equivalent to the earthly Catholic Church; this implied that even the highest Church officials might not be part of the true spiritual seed of Christ.

Hus argued that the corrupt and extravagant lives of many Church leaders, as opposed to Christ’s life of poverty, made this clear. Though Hus was martyred for his stand, his ideas later had a large influence on Luther and others, and pointed the way, along with the teachings of John Wycliffe, towards the Protestant Reformation. Hus’s followers became known as the Bohemian Brethren. It is not hard to see how the ideas of the Waldensians lined up in many ways with the teachings of Hus, and why they became associated with the movement of the Bohemian Brethren.

The Age of the Barba

The 15th century represents a noteworthy moment in the vitality of the Waldensians. A particularly fascinating characteristic of this vitality was the barba. The term is significant in itself. In the Provencal dialect, in the Alpine area, this term meant “uncle,” but, in its corresponding feminine form, it referred also to a leader who merited respect and obedience. The Waldensians used this term to refer to their pastors, perhaps in deliberate contrast to the Catholic practice of calling priests “father.”

We do not have a lot of information about the barba, but what we have is sufficient to give us an idea. The young persons who decided to respond to this calling were aware of the risks. They prepared for their ministry in two ways. First, there was a fixed period of time in a “school.” These were not only places of study and research, but places where one acquired a familiarity with Scripture, and culture in general. Above all they were places of training, retreats where one experienced life in community with others, young and old, to arrive at that spiritual and moral maturity that are essential in a life full of risk.

A barba received still deeper training, however, by accompanying an older barba in his missions of contact with the dispersed faithful. This on-the-job, practical work gave them the experience necessary to carry on the effort.

The activity of the barba was evidently, in the light of the little we know, prodigious—they accomplished a great deal. They traveled from Northern Italy to Provence, from Bohemia to the Alps, preaching, instructing, receiving the confessions of the faithful, following precise itineraries. They were almost always disguised, for example as religious pilgrims, or travelling merchants, in order to avoid being identified by the Inquisition [the Catholic Church’s organization for exposing heretics]. They have often been presented as simple folk, with a great experience of faith and life, but of little learning.

The truth is quite different. We know this from numerous manuscripts in their Provencal tongue that have been found. These writings were obviously used by the barba. The minute, pocket-sized volumes containing sermons, tracts, poems, and grammar lessons are only the tip of an iceberg, revealing to us the vast cultural world of the Waldensians. Many of them are theological works coming from Hussite sources, which were not only translated, but adapted and elaborated. These accomplishments required sensibility and competence beyond that of the simple and uneducated.

Around the barba there was a well-organized clandestine world [see The Pearl]. In twos (according to the biblical model) they visited the faithful on well-defined itineraries, held assemblies to discuss their problems, and gathered and administered donations. The fact that in the course of the century very few barba were arrested, among the many that were active, is testimony to the perfection of their system.

Waldensian Theology

The Waldensians, probably in part due to the Hussite influence, experienced a growing consciousness of themselves and a new sensibility, which renewed their traditional spirituality. Their consciousness grew of being the “true church,” the authentic community of Christ, in contrast to the Church of Rome, which always seemed to them to take on the form of Antichrist, not only in its compromise with worldly powers, but also in the violence with which it crushed the spiritual renovation in Bohemia.

A second characteristic is related to their concern for individual salvation. From this, the Waldensians showed a particular interest in penance, the Sacraments, and Christian virtue. The barba had the power to hear confessions. They were believed to be the only persons capable of doing so because, in contrast to other corrupt and immoral clerics, they were authentic ministers of Christ. (Waldensians believed, it should be mentioned, that as it says in one of their early poems, “It is God alone who pardons, and no other.”)

Also, for these generations of Waldensians, salvation was clearly and certainly the work of Christ. It was the fruit of his sacrifice, but also the finality of a pure and consistent Christian life; a life of faith could not be separated from a life of obedience. Therefore, we can understand why in the 16th century a central point of debate among barba and the reformers was justification by faith, and how faith related to works.

The Waldensian position was looked upon from a Lutheran perspective as being too influenced by Catholic tradition. In reality, however, barba doctrine was plainly in contrast with the Catholic theology of that century, for it dismissed the major Catholic teaching on purgatory. The Waldensian rejection of purgatory was radical.

One of the most well-known and significant poems of the barba, La Nobla Leiczon (a possible translation is “The Teaching of Profound Things” [included in our From the Archives section]), is constructed entirely on the comparison between the two ways, that of salvation and that of damnation. It formulates a radical criticism of those Christians who expect to resolve their problem of salvation with purgatory and its corollary of mass, indulgences, and good works (teachings that Martin Luther would later challenge in Wittenberg).

These things represented for the Waldensians a negation of the Christian faith, and the triumph of the Constantine Church, that is, of a church which utilizes power and riches to govern the world. What more radical comparison can one imagine than that between the pilgrim barba, messenger of forgiveness to his clandestine communities, and the popes of the Renaissance with their sales of indulgences, claiming their “power of the keys,” the power to forgive sins and grant entrance to heaven? It is clear that these are two very different approaches.

The Great Reformation

To the scattered Waldensians concentrated mainly in the Alps in Provence and in Calabria, and greatly reduced through persecution, but having a solid theology and organization, news of the work of Martin Luther arrived in the period between 1518 and 1520.

What was to be done? Certainly the believers around Luther expressed themselves similarly to the Waldensians, but were the motivations the same? Could the Waldensians safely associate with the new communities coming together as a result of the reform movement, or would it be more prudent to keep a distance and maintain autonomy? It was not the first time that the problem arose for The Poor of collaborating with groups judged heretical by the official church. It had happened before with the Hussites and with the Albigensians. [The Albigensians were a radical group, which originated in southern Italy, and taught that all material things, including the human body, were evil. Among other things, the Albigensians rejected the Sacraments, Hell, the Resurrection, and marriage, and taught a life of extreme denial. They were a part of a much larger world-versus-spirit “dualist” movement in the Middle Ages called Catharism.]

Beginning in 1526 the barba, at their annual reunions in Piedmont and Provence, examined the news which came from Germany with the result that a group was sent to evaluate the situation at first hand, and to question major representatives of the new theology. On the journey a meeting occurred with William Farel, the fiery Swiss reformer who would play an instrumental part in the Waldensians’ future; contact was also made with Oecolampadius, the reformer in Basel, and Martin Bucer of Strasbourg.

From these contacts it was clear that a fundamental unity of purpose did exist, especially in reference to a belief in Scripture as the only rule for faith. However, at the same time the approaches the two groups took to Scripture were different: the Waldensians, on the one hand, emphasized the moral demands made by the Bible, and its teaching on the climactic end of history—its apocalyptic message; the reformed group, on the other hand, emphasized the importance of deep, academic study of the Bible, and the system of theology founded upon such study—“dogmatics.”

The consequences of these emphases on the different groups were shown in the way they applied their faith to their lives in society. The fact that those promoting the Reformation in the cities of the Rhine were the city councils, and in Germany it was the princes, profoundly baffled the Waldensians. Could the men of the world, whose daily lives were given over to the use of riches and power, now be the defenders of the apostolic faith?

This was hard to comprehend. Was this not the process of Constantine renewed—a new mixing of the spiritual with the worldly? Was it possible to transform a local parish (a church district set often by geographical boundaries and determined by men), the typical form of “imperial” Christianity, into a community based on the Gospel?

The Synod of Chanforan

The solution to these questions arrived in 1532 during an assembly held at Chanforan in the Angrogna Valley in the Piedmont Alps. 140 barba participated along with leaders of the Reformation in Switzerland, including William Farel. After days of debate the assembly decided to accept substantially the principles of the new reformation, and to apply them internally to the Waldensian movement itself.

The Waldensians in this way were as integrated into the world of the Reformation. It is necessary, however, to be precise. It must be remembered that in 1532 Protestantism did not yet exist as a confessional and cultural phenomenon. The Reformation at that moment was a movement of opinion, it was not a church.

By declaring themselves in line with the reformers, the Waldensians simply acknowledged their unity with the reformers’ protests for a faith based on the Gospel, for a return to the origins of the Church, and for an abandonment of the compromises with the world. The reformers were rejected by the official church for these beliefs even as the Waldensians had been for generations.

It is also significant that the decisions agreed upon at Chanforan by the barba and the reformers were not limited to the religious dimension, but had social and political importance also. The return to the Gospel meant not only a rediscovery of the purity of the faith, but also a liberation from the burden of economic slavery, of ecclesiastical taxation, and of the dependence which the Medieval Church had placed on the shoulders of the Christian populace.

By adhering to the Reformation the Waldensians expressed in new form the spirit of independence and autonomy which in the Middle Ages had characterized the Alpine peoples in the face of central powers. It was a realization of their sense of independence.

Furthermore, the meeting at Chanforan was but the beginning on a long journey that would lead the Waldensians to eventual organization as Protestant churches. In the face of a Roman Catholicism that assumed the characteristics of unbending worldly control, and that readily used the Inquisition and political power to repress whatever it declared heresy, the Waldensian communities developed increasingly along reformed lines according to the ideas coming from Calvin’s Geneva.

A New Church and the First War of Religion

This difficult search for a specific Waldensian identity culminated around 1555 (twenty years after Chanforan) in the decision to build facilities for preaching and the administration of the sacraments. For years services in the local dialect had been conducted in the open air or in private homes, with the singing of hymns and the celebration of the Lord’s Supper. However, the absence of buildings for these services underlined both the temporary, provisional nature of the situation, and the continuing hope for an agreement with the Church of Rome.

Once these hopes vanished it was necessary to recognize the existence of two churches, even from the point of view of architecture: two churches, two bell towers, two services, two theologies, two ecclesiastical organizations, two forms of piety, and two cultures.

In the middle of the 16th century these two identities (the Reformation and the Catholic, or Counter-Reformation) began a conflict that would last 150 years, and have in the area of the Alps where the Waldensians lived, a particularly violent character.

The first battle took place in 1560. The Duke of Savoy, who had recently regained possession of his region, forced the Roman Catholic religion on all his subjects. He based this on the principle established a few years previously at the Diet of Augsburg and accepted by all the rulers of Europe, according to which the religion of the prince must be that of his subjects.

While all the followers of the Reformation in the plains and cities moved to Protestant areas, particularly to Geneva, the Waldensians in the Alpine Valleys stayed put and rejected the imposition of Catholicism. They continued to profess their reformed faith—even against the edict of their ruler. As a consequence the Duke intervened militarily to restore order. This action spurred a response of armed rebellion. Under this severe trial, the Waldensians, who had always opposed violence, had reached the point where they decided they must defend themselves, and fight for their faith.

This was the first war of religion in Europe, and also the first case in which subjects of a ruler rebelled to defend their religious freedom. The conflict lasted several weeks and concluded incredibly with the victory of the Waldensian farmers, who benefitted from a series of complex strategical, political, and geographical elements.

The Duke, taking an historic position unique in Europe at this time, conceded to his Waldensian subjects the right to profess their religion within a specified territory, with the number of worship centers and ministers defined by law.

These remarkable events were enough to assure the Waldensians’ survival. But in subsequent decades the battle would continue, and proceed with tragedies, varying successes, and great risks.

Dr. Giorgio Bouchard is currently President of the Protestant Federation of Italy. He is a Waldens-pastor and serves a congregation in Naples. From 1979 to 1986 he was moderator of the Waldensian Church.

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine.Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

History

From A Calabrian Prison (1560)

An excerpt from a letter of Waldensian pastor Giovan Paschale, who was hanged in Rome in 1560.

To the brethren of San Sisto,

… we are 80 to 100 persons held in this dark place, and although we may escape being devoured by the lice, we are at the same time near to death by hunger. Who will doubt that all of us would willingly forego all that we possess in this world rather than to be condemned forever to this misery?…

Some will say that they do not sense in themselves the strength to die for Jesus Christ. I reply to them that those who fear to be overcome ought at least to struggle and to achieve a fleeting victory. For to flee is permissable, but to bow the knee before Baal is forbidden under the penalty of eternal punishment .…

I can testify that with a little bread and water the body can be satisfied, whereas the soul will never find satisfaction until it finds food which nourishes the hope of eternal life. And what is that if it is not the preaching of the Holy Gospel, of which you may be deprived? If, therefore you desire satisfaction, prepare yourselves to go to the place where your soul is peaceful. Thus you will quieten your conscience, you will find rest, you will confess Jesus Christ, you will edify the Church, and you will confound your enemies.

Your brother in Jesus Christ,

Giovan Luigi Paschale

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine. Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

History

A Time for Mourning, A Time for War

John Hobbins

From the Reformation to the Glorious Return

At the beginning of the 17th century, the Waldensians numbered twenty thousand. Under the firm leadership of a handful of pastors, and a more numerous group of schoolmasters, they kept one hand on the Bible and the other on the hoe, one eye on Geneva and the other on the New Jerusalem of the heavens above.

Tillers of the soil and keepers of flocks, the Waldensians dwelt exclusively in a remote corner of Italy. The Counter-Reformation of the Roman Catholic Church had forced them to shut themselves up in the mountains, amidst the Cottian Alps, between the towering peaks.

The region was divided between two sovereigns: the Delfinato, an area including the upper Dora and Chisone Valleys, belonged to the King of France; the Pellice and Germanasca Valleys belonged to the Duke of Savoy. The area’s culture and language was (and is) the expression of a combination of two cultures: French and Italian.

Massacre and Mortal Struggle

The Waldensians prospered. They built churches and schools, and began to move out to the plains below. Everywhere they brought with them the Bible and the Psalms put to music by the French Calvinists—the Huguenots.

A reaction set in in the Piedmont. Injunctions and decrees, incursions and pillage of the countryside put the Waldensians to the test, but they did not give in. In the end, the authorities in Turin took drastic measures. In January 1655, a judge ordered the Waldensians to abandon all they possessed beyond the territorial limits established almost 100 years before by the treaty of Cavour (1561). The Marquis of Pianezza was stationed at Torre in the Pellice Valley, but his 700 soldiers were no match for the 2,000 Waldensians observing them from the safety of the surrounding hills.

Meanwhile, however, a great army of French soldiers was marching nearby in the Susa valley, on its way to attack the Spanish in Lombardy. Why not borrow a few regiments … and finish off the Waldensians? And so it was decided in Turin.

In 1655, on Easter week, 5,000 first-class soldiers were thrown against the Waldensians. Given permission to pillage, the French were merciless: they killed, tortured, raped, and looted. Those who escaped death were put to flight, or were forced to surrender; 1,712 souls breathed their last. The infamous event is known in Waldensian history as the Piedmont Easter Massacre.

The Waldensians finally seemed broken forever.

Called to Arms

The French army finished their work and left immediately for the battlefields of Lombardy. The surviving Waldensian population had escaped to the Chisone Valley in French territory, where a “sanctuary” of popular resistance was organized.

The men took up arms, crossed the river Chisone, and attacked the enemy from behind. Guerrilla war tactics were used. The most important leader in this war was Joshua Gianavello. From his headquarters in the Angrogna Valley he led a popular militia of at least 2,000 combatants, with Calvinistic rigor. Victory was won. At the same time, an “international brigade” of 500 volunteers, mostly Huguenots, was organized in French territory at Pinasca. Together with a division of calvary they came to the aid of the Waldensians.

The comeback of the Waldensians was spectacular. But it would have been unthinkable without the mobilization of Protestant Europe. Three days after the massacre inflicted by the French, the news traveled in the direction of Geneva. It soon arrived in Paris, Holland, Germany, and in England.

Pastor John Léger, a leader of the Waldensians during their ordeal, traveled about Europe testifying to his peoples’ woes. The gazzettes of Paris, London, and Amsterdam denounced the unjust massacre. The House of Savoy was put on the defensive, both on ideological and diplomatic fronts. Puritan England, and her Protestant “Lord Protector,” Oliver Cromwell, were shocked by the event; Cromwell soon sealed a pact with France for a solution to “the Waldensian problem” [see the article on Cromwell, “A Friend in the Lord Protector”].

In the midst of the struggle, the Waldensians wrote a Confession of Faith, a defense of their right to freedom of conscience. To this day Waldensian pastors subscribe to this Confession before their ordination.

The Right of Freedom and Freedom Lost

The war was over. A compromise was negotiated at Pinerolo. The French ambassador and the Swiss cantons acted as mediators. The so-called Patent of Grace gave the Waldensians back practically all their rights. The agreement was reached the 18th of August, before the English and Dutch ambassadors were able to throw the weight of the Protestant republics into the balance and exact an agreement more in accord with the moral and military victory of the Waldensians and their allies.

The Waldensians, however, had seen death face to face. They preferred a low-profile settlement, one that did not needlessly humiliate the House of Savoy.

The compromise, however, satisfied no one. Weighed down after having conceded so much, the Duke of Savoy went back on his promise not to rebuild the Fort of Torre Pellice; instead he reinforced the garrisons. He sentenced Giovanni Léger to death five times, but in his absence. Léger had departed for Holland, where in 1669 he wrote his monumental history of the Waldensians. He prepared the way for the “Dutch Connection” which would prove decisive at the moment of the “Glorious Return.”

Under constant pressure, the Waldensians, a patient but ever-ready people, responded with guerrilla war tactics as before. Once again, Gianavello led the way. Accused of serious crimes and summoned to Turin, he refused to appear in court and in 1658 was given the death penalty.

Forty-two other Waldensian leaders were declared outlaws and were not to set foot in the Piedmont. They were considered banished and thereafter known as “bandits.”

In 1663, full-scale war broke out. Gianavello established headquarters at Villar Pellice, and fortified the upper Pellice and Angrogna Valleys. He then went on the offensive and sacked Luserna, the hated feudal capital, and struck Cavour and Bagnolo. A counterattack upon the Waldensians in Angrogna by four thousand Piedmont soldiers was a clamorous failure.

The Duke was now ready to concede everything, but on one condition: The “bandits” would remain outlaws and had to leave the area and never return. Gianavello went into exile for the rest of his life. Agreement was reached, but the cost was high. The Waldensians had lost a part of their freedom.

A Catholic Empire

By now, the international situation was profoundly altered. In France, Louis XIV had risen to the throne. Louis (known as the Sun King because of his life of great splendor) put together a formidable army and competed with Holland for the control of commerce, and with England for control of the seas. Spain was in decline; France was the new Catholic empire.

As far as the French Calvinists were concerned, Louis XIV did not intend to allow them any room at all. In the end, he denied them even the right to exist. The so-called Revocation of the Edict of Nantes* [* The Edict of Nantes (1598) had granted French Protestants freedom to practice their religion within certain limits. ] (October 18, 1685) spelled ruin for the Waldensians as well as for the Huguenots.

With a stroke of the pen, the flourishing Waldensian communities of the Chisone and upper Susa Valleys were blotted out. 3,000 left for Germany with their pastors; another 8,000 swore submission.

The situation in French territory was disastrous for the Waldensians for another reason. The French Calvinists did not submit to the dictates of their sovereign. Hundreds of thousands preferred exile to forced conversion, and left for Holland, Germany, Switzerland, and North America. Many Huguenots of the Alpine region sought to stay as close as possible to French territory, and found refuge in the Waldensian valleys of the Piedmont.

However the Paris government did not lose time in taking note of the formation of a sanctuary of resistance along its borders. Pressure was put on the government of Savoy to resolve the situation.

A Subordinate State

Vittorio Amedeus II, full of ambition and fear, had just risen to the throne in Turin. He quickly agreed to forbid the Waldensians to take in French refugees or lend any aid whatsoever to their brethren in France.

The edict was too bland to satisfy Louis XIV, but sufficient to alarm the Waldensians. The pastors anxiously searched the Scriptures. The people began to arm themselves, store away provisions, and withdraw their families to the mountains. They did not, however, take into account the decisive fact that war and exile had reduced them to half their original number. Worse still, they now had to face both France and the Piedmont at the same time. France, moreover, had grown strong, and was awakening fear in all of Europe.

The pastors knew this fact very well. They had studied abroad. They had seen the rest of Europe, and were aware of the power represented by the French throne. They admonished their people to stay calm and to hold still.

Not all the pastors were content to hold still, however. Henry Arnaud, the young and energetic pastor of Pinasca, wanted to act. A rash young man, he had studied in Basel, Geneva, and most notably, Holland. The progressive Dutch he had come into contact with were of French imperialism, contrary as it was to their theology and commerce. Arnaud was tired of it as well. In Pinasca he faced the dragoons of the King of France—so-called “missionaries of the Holy Faith.” It seemed to him that so much arrogance could not endure forever, disrespectful as it was of the rights and autonomy of others. Arnaud did not share the cautious optimism of the other pastors. According to him, it was time to prepare for battle. It was time to take the risk.

A Closing Trap

The situation worsened in the Piedmont. The commotion among the Waldensians forced the Duke’s hand. First he sent a battalion to man the fort in Torre Pellice. Then, on January 31, 1686, he issued an edict similar to the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes.

• The Waldensian churches were to be burned to the ground.

• Protestant assembly of any kind was strictly forbidden.

• All children were to be baptized and educated in the Roman Catholic faith (many Waldensian children would be kidnapped for this purpose).

• Pastors and schoolmasters had 15 days to choose between exile or conversion to Catholicism.

• The Huguenots who had found refuge in the valleys had to leave immediately.

Very few Waldensians betrayed their faith, though conversion was recompensed in hard cash. On the contrary, the valleys were fortified, as in the days of Gianavello. In every village, a group of volunteers was formed. In all they numbered 2,500—not many at all against the 9,000 soldiers that France and the Piedmont were mustering against them.

A sort of armed truce lasted but a month. The Duke then forbade the sale of arms and provisions to the Waldensians. The Waldensians disregarded the Duke’s orders, and on the 6th of March they re-established their public worship, marriage, and baptism.

The trap was closing. Ambassadors were sent by Berne and Zurich. They understood that now the Waldensians’ only hope was exile. Yet they were unable to convince the Waldensians. The number of those in favor of continued armed resistance was growing.

In the meantime, Catinat, the supreme commander of the French army in the Piedmont, made it known to the Duke that if he did not take the necessary measures, the French would be happy to take the matter into their own hands. In any case, the Duke had decided to act. His edict of April 9th enjoined the Waldensians to put down their arms within eight days and go into exile between April 21st and 23rd. If able, they were free to sell their land and possessions to the highest bidder.

The Trap Shuts

Who would pay a fair price for houses and land that had to be sold within eight days? Without money, and without land, the Waldensians would find themselves without honor as well, because they would be forced to admit to treason, though they had never committed it. Reduced to a band of poor wretches, without a future, they would barely make it to the Swiss border. Was it not better to risk one’s own skin: to obey God rather than men?

So said Henry Arnaud, just returned from Holland. On April 18th he made a stirring appeal before an assembly at Roccapiatta. Those in favor of armed resistance were now the majority. The truce expired April 20th; the Waldensians prepared for battle.

The Waldensians had never been so close to annihilation. The enemy blockaded all the passes in the Alps, and two soldiers were mustered for every three Waldensians, old women and children included.

Many Waldensians surrendered before the French and Piedmontese armies. Others were brutally massacred. The women were raped.

When the Duke retired to Turin on June 8th, the war seemed decided. 2,000 Waldensians had been killed. Another 2,000 had “accepted” the Catholic theology of the Council of Trent—and the government payment. 8,000 had been imprisoned; more than half of them would die of starvation or sickness within six months.

Two Hundred Desperadoes

Up in the mountains, two or three hundred men continued to hold out. As the “victorious” regiments departed and thousands of peasants from the Piedmont arrived to claim the valleys as their own, the Waldensian desperadoes organized, stole animals and forage, and killed spies and traitors.

The Catholic authorities were impotent against the activities of these rebels in their mountain refuge. Negotiations were opened with the “Invincibles.” They responded, “We have not been defeated by anyone. Our right of passage through the land of Savoy must be recognized. Our families must be released immediately, and all the Waldensians freed from prison thereafter, and given the means to reach Geneva.” The negotiations were tense, but in the end the rebels’ conditions were accepted.

The Duke kept his word, but in the worst way imaginable. On 3 January 1687 he issued an edict which forced a brutal choice upon the prisoners. Either they had to depart immediately, in the middle of winter, and risk death in the mountains, or convert to Roman Catholicism, be given a new home in the Vercelli region of the Piedmont, and risk malaria in the rice fields. Once again, the Waldensians were divided in two parts. About 1,100 chose the rice fields. Around 2,800 preferred the long winter march. Days on end they made their way through the snow; many died in blizzards; many of their children were kidnapped along the way. 2,490 eventually reached Geneva.

A Sky the Color of Orange

Something new was fermenting in Europe. The Emperor of Austria had had enough of the arrogance of the King of France. Together with the Lutheran nobility of Germany, with Sweden and Spain, he formed the League of Augsburg in 1686 in order to put a stop to the French colossus. War would follow, from 1688 to 1697.

William III of Orange ruled in Holland. A strong defender of Dutch freedom and Calvinist democracy against Louis XIV, he was prepared to fight it out with the “Beast of Versailles” to the bloody end. [Versailles was Louis’ highly elegant palace.] Even the Waldensians had a place in his plan of action. In October 1688, he gave an audience to Henry Arnaud, advised him to keep calm, but promised him arms and diplomatic protection. At the right moment, the Waldensians would be able to return to their valleys, and open a new military front against the King of France.

William III went on the win England back to the Protestant camp. Louis XIV declared war on Holland, but the Dutch resisted. The Austrian empire, Spain, the German nobility, Holland, and England conducted a veritable world war against France. It would last nearly 10 years (from 1688–1697), and leave the land soaked in blood.

The Fulfillment of Prophecy

The Waldensians were reduced to 3,400. But they considered themselves a “little nation.” They longed to return to the heritage of their fathers, sacred, like the vineyard of Naboth mentioned in I Kings 21. In 1687 and in 1688, they tried to return, but without success.

The Waldensians reorganized in Switzerland. Their vision of history was fueled by the language and method of Biblical apocalyptic, the ancient, fantastic visions of the people of God.

As the events began to unfold in 1686, the Huguenot Peter Jurieu interpreted prophecy from his vantage point in Dutch exile. The Two Witnesses of Revelation 11 were the Reformed Church of France and the Waldensian Church, both exalted to martyrdom by the “Beast which rises from the Abyss” (Rev. 11:7)—the King of France. The three end a half days (11:11) correspond to three and a half years, to expire in 1688. For the Beast it will be the beginning of the end, whereas God will breathe new life into the Two Witnesses, and the whole world will see it (Rev. 1:13).

Indeed, the situation changed in 1688. The world was in ferment. War was breaking out. Thanks to the aid of William of Orange, the Waldensians acquired shining new muskets. No longer would they have to face a modern army with obsolete arms. Joshua Gianavello rewrote his Manual for Guerrilla Warfare for the third time, this time in French, for the Huguenots who had joined the cause. He explained how to cross the mountains and valleys of Savoy, and how to take hostages.

Once in the beloved valleys, they had to be ready for a long war. Guerrilla warfare tactics would be essential. Their refuge of last resort would be Basiglia, high in the valley of Massello. The Bible was to be their constant guide and daily companion. Their organization was to be democratic; the little army was to elect its own officers on a periodic basis. The pastors were to care for the souls of the soldiers, prevent pillage and massacres, and strengthen their sense of “union, which has always been at the heart of our way of life.”

What followed in 1689 (300 years ago), referred to as the “Glorious Return,” is one of the most important events in Waldensian history. With a faith and courageousness as great as the tenacity they had shown in their long struggle to survive, the Waldensians would return to reclaim their beloved homeland, never to be driven away again.

John Hobbins, a native of the United States, attended the Waldensian seminary in Rome, and serves as pastor of several Methodist-Waldensian Churches on the island of Sicily.

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine.Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

History

The Covenant of Sibaud 1689

God by his grace, having brought us happily back to the heritages of our fathers, to reestablish there the pure service of our holy religion—in continuance and for the accomplishment of the great enterprise which this great God of armies hath hitherto carried on in our favor—

We, pastors, captains, and other officers, swear and promise before the living God, and on the life of our souls, to keep union and order among ourselves; and not to separate and disunite ourselves from one another, whilst God shall preserve us in life, if we should be reduced even to three or four in number …

And we, soldiers, promise and swear this day before God to be obedient to the orders of our officers, and to continue faithful to them, even to the last drop of our blood …

And in order that union, which is the soul of all our affairs, may remain always unbroken among us, the officers swear fidelity to the soldiers, and the soldiers to the officers;

All together promising to our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ to rescue, as far as it is possible to us, the dispersed remnant of our brethren from the yoke which oppresses them, that along with them we may establish and maintain in these valleys the kingdom of the gospel, even unto death.

In witness whereof, we swear to observe this present engagement so long as we shall live.

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine. Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

History

A Prophet Without Honor

Waldo of Lyons

Christian History April 1, 1989

We know little about the life of Waldo of Lyons, the man who started the Waldensian Movement, other than his social class. He was a wealthy merchant, well integrated into the political community of Lyons, in France—a man of influence, a man of the establishment.

We know nothing of his life after he was cast out of the city, of his last years, or of his death around the year 1217. Everything centers around a few years, perhaps only a few months. Yet, what we do know about Waldo is very significant in understanding the Waldensians and their beliefs and practices.

Approximately in the years 1173–1176 Waldo made some decisions that radically changed his life. 1) He commissioned the translation of several books of the Bible from Latin into his local dialect, French-Provencal (French was not yet established as a language).

This decision did not meet opposition. According to a document of the time, he even went to Rome with a friend to present this translation to the pope, and received words of appreciation and praise. 2) He abandoned his business and distributed his goods, reducing himself to a beggar.

This second decision is more unusual. The inspiration for this change is uncertain, but evidently some drastic experience, or experiences, caused Waldo to question the very foundation of his life. According to the different accounts, which are shrouded in legend, his decision may have been as a result of the death of a friend. There is also mentions of his having been deeply moved by the lyrics of a minstrel’s song.

Another element in this second decision was a message from the Gospel: Jesus’ words to the rich man recorded in Mark 10:22, “IF YOU WISH TO BE PERFECT, SELL WHAT YOU HAVE AND FOLLOW ME.” This statement seems to have resolved Waldo’s personal crisis, and to have pushed him to his decision. Deciding to follow literally this exhortation, Waldo freed himself of his goods with the conviction of following Jesus.

This Gospel message is fundamental in the experience of Waldo and his friends and must be elaborated. It should be immediately noted that the vow of poverty was not extraordinary in the 12th century, as it might appear today. All those entering a convent took this vow, and the examples of princes, nobles, and other important persons who adopted lives of denial are not uncommon.

However, almost always such a decision was made as a renunciation of the world in order to merit salvation. The vow of poverty is part of a “professional” religious life. Yet Waldo remained a layman.

Poverty for Waldo seems to have been a constructive element of Christian discipleship. When he was called by the pope’s representative to clarify his position and to sign a declaration of faith containing the fundamental principles of Christianity, he signed without hesitation, but added, “We have decided to live by the words of the Gospel, essentially that of the Sermon on the Mount, and the Commandments, that is, to live in poverty without concern for tomorrow. But we hold that also those who continue to live their lives in the world doing good will be saved.”

3) He determined to preach the Gospel message in public.

This decision is still more significant in defining the experience of Waldo. Actually, he did not limit himself to Scriptural passages, which he had translated, but took high points from these and from his personal experience to appeal to and exhort his contemporaries to repentance and to the way of salvation.

His preaching certainly was not that of the average preacher, presented on Sunday to the congregation. A closer and more recent parallel would be the early Methodist preachers in the slums and countrysides of England and the United States. This preaching, which Waldo considered the direct consequence of his conversion and his call to follow Jesus, was the beginning of conflict and persecution for Waldo and his followers.

Because of his activities, Waldo was expelled from the city of Lyons. It is told that in his last meeting before the archbishop of Lyons, the archbishop severely threatened Waldo and warned him to stop his preaching, to which Waldo’s response was, “It is better to obey God than man.”

Of course, these are from the words of the Apostle Peter as recorded in Acts 4:19, and spoken to the High Priest who wanted Peter’s preaching to cease. And just as in the case with Peter, whose calling was to establish the Church of Jesus Christ on the foundation of God’s Word, Waldo was intent on basing his apostolic community not on the usual human structures of his day, but purely on the Gospel. Perhaps this is the episode from which the 14th-century Waldensians took the idea of referring to Waldo as “Peter Waldo.”

Copyright © 1989 by the author or Christianity Today/Christian History magazine. Click here for reprint information on Christian History.

Something New

Once before in this column we talked about the difficulty of putting together an issue of the magazine with a holiday emphasis: After all, what “new” can be said about Christmas? Or, in the case of this issue, Easter?

Happily, the answer to that seasonal dilemma is “plenty,” judging from the four essays packaged in the special section, “The Great Reversal.” Walter Wangerin and Eugene Peterson (both former CT Christmas authors), Virginia Stem Owens, and CT editor-at-large Philip Yancey offer readers fresh glimpses into the mystery of Easter in the guise of a young boy’s frantic search for the flesh-and-blood Jesus; in a drive across blooming Texas flatland; in an old Indian woman buying ham hocks for the holiday feast; and in the death of a much-loved pet. Each Holy Week reminiscence presents both humorous and moving insights into the meaning of life, death, and resurrection.

I can’t think of a stronger “package” to end my own relationship with this magazine. Effective with this issue, I will be dealing with new editorial challenges as they relate to two other CTi publications, MARRIAGE PARTNERSHIP and TODAY’S CHRISTIAN WOMAN. In the meantime, CT senior associate editors David Neff and Lyn Cryderman will be in charge of planning and executing future issues of CHRISTIANITY TODAY.

My advice to these able men is that they pay special attention to the holiday issues. And try to say something “new.”

HAROLD B. SMITH, Managing Editor

Letters

An Incisive Report

Thank you for your cover story on the broadcasters [“Surviving the Slump,” Feb. 3]. Randy Frame and his colleagues are to be commended for a most incisive report—fair, complete, and balanced. It is encouraging to note that the leading magazine for evangelicals has not shied away from investigative reporting for the good of the church’s integrity.

It does no good to hide our heads in the sand when it comes to our own evangelistic thrusts via the media. Judgment starts at the house of God. So does redemption if we are to carry on with our heads held high.

Rev. J. Grant Swank, Jr.

Church of the Nazarene

Walpole, Mass.

In reading my umpteenth article about the fall of religious broadcasters, I am struck by the blithe lack of blame assumed by the contemporary church. Today’s churches, to compromise with contemporary mores, have embraced happily the religious movements that emphasize the ego and encourage physical contact. Unfortunately, these movements attract exactly the people who should flee from them. But when the inevitable occurs, we suddenly become very prim and wash our hands of the fallen.

Christianity used to stress raising cultural levels, since moral levels rose with them. Perhaps we need to provide more example and less precept.

Gertrude V. Martinez

Ft. Collins, Colo.

Use Persuasion, Not Force

With respect to Charles Colson’s “Abortion Clinic Obsolescence” [Feb. 3], let’s face it: the advent of RU 486 makes no difference. We could not and we cannot force a woman to bear her child. We cannot force calcium supplements down her throat. We cannot take away her gin and tonic—or her cocaine. We cannot make her purchase prenatal care, especially if she can’t afford a pediatrician for the children she already has.

Yes, the effort to persuade is more difficult and expensive than the effort to force. But Colson would have more allies.

Elizabeth W. Hodges

Decatur, Ga.

Although I strongly believe personally that the fetus has, from the time of conception, the God-given right to life regardless of the religious beliefs of the mother, I suggest we recognize that idealism is not always practical in a world where we temporarily have evil to contend with in an otherwise good world.

Michael Sherer

Tualatin, Oreg.

Is Our Gospel All-Sufficient?

Thank you for Terry Muck’s challenging editorial “Salt Substitutes” [Feb. 3]. His analysis brought good perspective to the current increase of spiritual counterfeits. But at one point I fear our problem goes deeper than he realizes when he says, “We preach, teach, and counsel based on an all-sufficient gospel.” I wish we did. But part of the reason more Americans don’t see the completeness of the gospel is that so many evangelicals don’t see the completeness of it. The “all-sufficient gospel” of Christ has been modified to the “very-good-when-supplemented gospel” of evangelicalism.

How much of our counseling comes from secular psychology rather than an all-sufficient gospel? How much evangelism strategy comes from sociological analysis? How much of our teaching comes from the latest fads and theories? We still mouth the claim of Christ’s all-sufficiency, but we lack living and preaching a simple trust and obedience to an all-sufficient Savior.

Pastor Dave Coles

Koinonia Church

Potsdam, N.Y.

In fighting Satanism, Muck states, “We need to reveal confidently the relevance of our faith.” I agree. God tells us to pray for wisdom; doing so, we open ourselves up to living Christianity his way. But most churches and preachers today are indoctrinated in interpreting the Bible’s teaching humanistically. God gave us instructions, but the Christian community has grown soft in living these. Because of this, many are going astray because they are more in tune with their own thinking than the Lord’s. Not until Christians start putting the word of the Bible into play as God states it, will individuals know true peace as followers of Christ and quit going astray.

Phyllis Taulman

Gallatin, Tenn.

More than 200 years ago John Wesley wrote that one should “beware of men who pretend to show you the way to heaven, and know it not themselves.” Those spiritual leaders who do not have a personal saving knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ are patently unqualified to introduce him to others.

Mary T. Golden

Lancaster, Ohio

Equating Firearms Safety With Safe Sex

I cannot speak for the others who read Harold Smith’s editorial “Why ‘Safe’ Is Not Enough” [Feb. 3], but I am not convinced that a teacher passing out firearms safety manuals to students can be equated with the morally offensive act of a teacher passing out condoms. I have not seen a copy of the NRA coloring book, but if the rest of the book is like the portion described by Smith, then the NRA is to be commended.

It is quite a different matter when a teacher passes out condoms to his students, for his very actions give instructions of a permissive nature. He is saying: These are intended for your use. In fact, condoms cannot perform their safety function unless you use them during sexual activity. But engagement in sexual activity requires a decision, which involves the moral judgment of whether sexual activity is right or wrong.

When a blasting cap or a firearm is found, there is neither a decision involved about using them, nor a value judgment. That has been achieved through the prohibition—do not touch. The well-being of the individual is preserved by the nonuse of firearms. On the other hand, the welfare of the individual is preserved when he uses a condom, even though that decision for sexual activity is detrimental to his well-being. In a word, coloring books do not replace condoms, despite Smith’s claim. It is clear that the actions of the superintendent of the Christian academy were not inappropriate, much less relativistic.

David Godeske

Evansville, Ind.

As a thinking American, I do not wholly agree with the NRA, and I certainly do not agree with your opinion. This editorial was very offensive. Yes, I am a member of the NRA, and I am a law-abiding citizen. Our country was founded by men and women who believed in the sanctity of life and religious freedom. Need I remind you that they used firearms to make their point? Instead of slamming the NRA’s good intentions, we should be thankful there is an institution attempting to teach (children) how to avoid the dangers and abuses of guns. Guns are a tool—granted, a potentially dangerous tool. Comparing a tool and its use to sex is ridiculous!

Mark Lockhart

St. Louis, Mo.

It seems to me the NRA coloring book comes close to the same exhortation as does the appeal for abstinence. We certainly wouldn’t advise the child to wrap the discovered weapon in Saran Wrap and carry the gun to an adult. Neither is wrapping AIDS, various V.D.S, or unwanted pregnancies in a condom really the “safe way” to deal with this problem.

Leave the gun alone! This message is for the unskilled and untaught in the use of firearms. It does not include those with a legitimate right to possess the weapon. Leave the sex alone, until marriage. This message does not include those with the legitimate right of marriage. Following this type of instruction would weld “safe” and “moral” together in an unbreakable union. If that is gotten across, then the “child” will still be among the living. And morality can only be taught to a living student.

Rev. George A. Riffle

Spirit Lake, Idaho

Many good Christians own and use guns for other than police or military work. I have owned a gun since I was five years old. I bought a gun for my children when they were quite young. I did it to teach them respect for guns and what guns can do. I also did it to teach them the joys of target practice and hunting.

For you to place teaching gun safety to children on the same level as teaching them about condoms reveals gross ignorance. A prime consideration in any gun safety is never under any circumstances point a gun at another human being. The NRA constantly upholds that practice. (By the way, I am not a member.) The point of your editorial is right on target; the method you use to get there is deplorable.

Chuck Cerling

Tawas City, Mich.

Excellence Via Breakdown?

Kenneth Kantzer glorifies doing better—even if you get A’s and are driving yourself at what may well be capacity [“Militant Against Mediocrity,” Feb. 3]. It may be more American than Christian. Either he has never driven himself past “practical” capacity and learned the possibility of being counterproductive, or he has such an iron constitution it somehow hasn’t broken down yet. If he had ever driven himself into a nervous breakdown trying to reach the “highest he is capable of,” he would see that Christ’s “yoke is easy and his burden is light.” Christ wants us to have some leisure and to smell the roses as we tread this vale of sorrows. I learned that the hard way by a nervous breakdown.

My advice is: yes, excel, but take time to be human and humane. How do you know what is “second best” and “first best” anyway? All Jesus asks is for us to trust, love, and obey.

Laurence A. Davis

Wichita, Kan.

Israelis And Arabs

I appreciated Elwood McQuaid’s balanced review of my book Land of Promise, Land of Strife [Books, Feb. 3], but I want to correct a couple of his misapprehensions that seem to recur in any discussion about Israelis and Arabs. He and others have constantly challenged my statement that there have been more Arab victims of Israeli violence than vice versa, but the facts are sadly on my side—ask the State Department. There is an explanation: Israel officially practices mass retaliation in which, for instance, an Arab tossing a Molotov cocktail at an Israeli bus that kills two or three generally results in an Israeli air raid on a PLO camp that kills 15 or 20. The 350 Palestinian deaths and the mere dozen Israeli deaths in the ongoing Palestinian uprising is another grim affirmation of my statement.

Another misapprehension is that somehow I don’t like Israelis. In my view, my book was more fundamentally critical of Arabs than of Jews. I said that Israelis are brash, but behind that behavior is genuineness and candor, and that Arabs are courteous, but behind that charm is often duplicity. McQuaid and others chose only to quote the first half of those conclusions. Perhaps they should read what the Old Testament prophets had to say about the behavior of the Israelites.

Wesley G. Pippert

Rockville, Md.

Yancey’S Gift

“Dachau—and a Pastoral Call” [Jan. 13] by Philip Yancey was absolutely exquisite! Once again I was touched by the simple, powerful gift Yancey has to communicate!

As a sometimes tired, weary, and frustrated pastor in the city of Oakland, I found myself encouraged by this article to listen a bit more carefully, and to be loving even when I am really feeling at the end of all my resources after a hectic day. Yancey’s sensitive retelling of this conversation with his “gentle and wise pastor-counselor” has etched itself in my soul and caused me once again to shake my head at the enormous gift we have within ourselves either to motivate and encourage for good, or by all indifference, impatience, or weariness allow evil and destructiveness to take root and grow.

Rev. Robin Williams

Sequoyah Community Church

Oakland, Calif.

Evangelical Fantasies?

Terry Muck’s comments on the Billy Graham meeting in Buffalo [“God and Man in Buffalo,” Jan. 13] offer a good example of what a recent letter to the editor complained about: the tendency of evangelicals to lapse into exaggeration and fantasy. Muck tells of the “thrill” he felt when more than 1,000 persons responded to the invitation. He believed he was seeing more than 1,000 persons “change their lives, making a decision to live in a whole new way … driving a stake in the ground, declaring that from this moment on, they will go a whole new direction.”

Now Muck, who most of the time comes across as level-headed and objective, knows very well that his above words were appropriate for nowhere near 1,000 people. Many of us would say there were only a handful, and for most of them the change was not especially miraculous, being the result of predisposing factors in their past and the conduct of the mass meeting.

It seems to me evangelicals of the revivalist tradition show a fixated propensity to exaggerate the significance of what goes on in revival meetings and blind themselves to the light that psychology brings to the subject. I think they should consider the possibility that much of what they call the work of the Holy Spirit is better understood as manipulation of people’s subconscious. They might also find that psychology has something to say about their fixation and propensity for exaggeration.

Walfred Erickson

Bellevue, Wash.

Thank you for the “humanism” article. I want to respect these people for the value they try to give to people, and yet I find so many of my Christian brothers just bashing them. You managed to combine respect with disagreement, and your article crystalized for me some fresh thought on the subject. Of course there will be times when the battle lines will be drawn and we will need to raise our voices. But I would prefer to do that with both understanding and respect.

Ronald B. Gifford

First Alliance Church

Lexington, Ky.

Second-Degree Sanctification?

There seems to be a new concept appearing on the horizon—a mere image of second-degree separation, only this goes into the positive zone. Shall we call it second-degree sanctification? Simply put, some evangelicals think that love for Arab Christian brethren means approval of all their political interests [“Whither Israel,” News, Jan. 13], in particular the PLO. Do evangelical Christians really think that affirming Arab Christians as brothers in Christ could truly mean an acceptance of this proven—though presently disavowing—terrorist group?

If this reasoning is accepted, then should not Jewish believers in Christ living in Israel also bring these same evangelicals to adopt a pro-Israel stand? Rather, the issues will not allow a second-degree sanctification for either side. Should we not have a biblical commitment to support God’s Word and his program for Israel even if we are Arab Christians? This support does not justify any politically foolish move by the Israelis, but, then again, Israeli foolishness does not nullify God’s program for his people and land.

Also, your interview of Mubarak Awad [in the same issue] was most revealing. He calls himself a “Christian,” and yet for political advantage will “change his religion” though “not his faith or belief.” Does he think the rabbis are so foolish to convert him without asking of his belief or faith? Or is the truth that “religion” is only important to him as long as it has political advantage, and that “faith and beliefs” make little impact on such issues as honesty in Christian witnessing?

Whether it be Awad or the PLO, we seem more interested in words of faith than realizing that faith without works is dead.

Sam Nadler

Chosen People Ministries

New York, N.Y.

Letters are welcome. Brevity is preferred, and all are subject to condensation. Write to Eutychus, CHRISTIANITY TODAY, 465 Gundersen Drive, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188.

Applause (Applause)

Our congregation has survived all the major, conventional battles: infant baptism versus adult baptism; social action versus evangelism; liturgy versus spontaneity; pretrib versus posttrib versus all manner of tribs. Through careful compromise—the old give and take—we’ve maintained our unity. But recently we faced a question that tested our body to its limits: Should we or should we not applaud in church?

The issue arose about three months ago when a visitor—a clapper—attended our church, which at that time was unanimously nonclapper. When Alice Mickle finished her rendition of yet another Sandi Patti tune (with accompaniment tape), the visitor broke into applause. The rest of the congregation sat in stunned silence. The visitor never returned. But the debate began.

The traditionalists argued that applause makes too much noise and might put us on a slippery slope to lifting hands—and who knows what else. But others argued, “What about the psalm that says, ‘Clap your hands, all ye people’?”

I offered what I thought was a brilliant compromise: one-handed applause. Clapping with one hand makes absolutely no noise, thus satisfying the traditionalist. On the other hand (so to speak), it would allow the proclapping contingent to express appreciation during worship.

We tried it last week. After a guest soloist finished her song, she looked up to see an entire congregation waving their hands back and forth in front of, their faces. She fainted.

Maybe the idea needs some refinement.

EUTYCHUS

Sticking a Needle in Apartheid

Mary Stewart Van Leeuwen

A few months ago, CT senior writer Rodney Clapp wrote that it is important to lodge our biological family membership within our more primary identity as redeemed members of God’s international family, the church (Sept. 16, 1988). About the same time I came across a vivid example of the point he was making.

I was invited one morning to meet the wife of a South African theologian who was on a lecture tour of the United States. This woman had been working to improve the status of black South African domestic workers and hoped to raise further support for this work while in America. I was eager to accept the invitation since I knew from other sources how rare it is for white Afrikaner women to question their own state of privilege. “What it comes down to,” wrote one South African academic, “is that women are so accustomed to the idea of men taking leadership that they never learn to think for themselves.… On the whole, I don’t think Afrikaner women understand the implications of apartheid or think very much about it. We have produced a race of women in blinders” (see “Voices from a Troubled Land,” CT, Nov. 21, 1986).

The woman I met over coffee was no flaming political radical. She was, in some ways, the epitome of the middle-class pastor’s wife: carefully dressed, mild mannered, and (in her own words) “not a theologian, just a housewife—no, I mean a Christian first, then a housewife.” With that telling self-description she launched the story of her project.

Over a decade ago she and some fellow churchwomen were led to find a way to raise the self-esteem and economic independence of the many black women domestics who worked in the white homes of their city. But what, as unwaged homemakers themselves, could they do to achieve these goals? Soon the answer came: They could set up a dressmaking and tailoring school in the church, to which the women could come during their time off.

Even in industrialized South Africa, quality manufactured clothing is still quite expensive. So when people acquire sewing skills, they can save on the cost of their own family’s clothing and also earn income making clothing for others. The local church understood the potentially subversive implications of the proposed school and resisted it. Not only would it mean racial mingling on church property (unheard of at the time), but it would also “give ideas” to the black women about “rising above their station.”

Nevertheless, cautious permission was finally given, but with little support other than the use of the church hall. Undaunted, the white homemakers dug into their own sewing supplies, canvassed fabric dealers for cloth remnants, and persuaded sewing-machine manufacturers to donate equipment. They began classes catering to various levels of sewing ability, closing each one with a period of prayer and Bible study.

Twelve years later, between one and two thousand women have acquired basic or higher-level sewing skills in this informal school, which is still housed in a church, and still run on a shoestring by women who are “Christians first, and housewives second.” So successful has the venture been that the school may soon sign a contract to manufacture gym uniforms.

Running such a project is satisfying, but hardly romantic work, according to my informant. Often the teachers feel their efforts are a drop in the bucket, given what needs to change in this troubled land. But in their own steady way, they are advancing the cause of racial reconciliation as they share the gospel and teach economically valuable skills.

At some risk to themselves (and to the husbands who back them) they have used their skills as homemakers in the service of their larger role as ambassadors for Christ. And they are examples of the point that both Rodney Clapp and I want to make: It is not roles that are the issue, but priorities. And if roles must be risked or adjusted to serve kingdom goals, so be it. Not even homemakers are exempt from this challenge.

Dry Times at Slick’s Bar

At first glance, Slick’s Alternative Bar in Northeast Minneapolis might not seem much different from other such establishments. Like most bars, it offers music, dancing, and socializing. But there’s an atmosphere—and an absence—at Slick’s that sets it apart and keeps its patrons coming back for more.

Parts of the bar’s decor offer clues that it isn’t the typical watering hole: coffee cups bearing customers’ names are set in rows; paintings done by patrons hang throughout the room; personalized keepsakes from grateful visitors are all proudly displayed. Along the high walls hang more than 150 cowboy hats contributed by customers who took owners Diane and Bob Slick’s invitation to heart when they said, “Hang your hat and call it home.”

But what really sets Slick’s Alternative Bar apart is what is missing: liquor. Slick’s is one of only two “dry bars” in Minnesota, which helps explain why patrons have come from Wisconsin, Iowa, the Dakotas—even England—just for the company. This nonalcoholic bar and the few like it around the country are fast becoming popular gathering places for recovering alcoholics and nonalcoholics alike.

“This place saved my life,” says one regular at Slick’s. “First the [Alcoholics Anonymous] program saved my life from chemicals. Then the Alternative saved my life from being socially isolated. Without it I might have gone back to chemicals just to fill the terrible emptiness I was feeling.”

In fact, many alcoholics “fall off the wagon” when they return to their old haunts and friends, searching for the social life and atmosphere. While the ideal for recovering alcoholics is to break completely from past habits, including a “bar and booze” mentality that sets them up for another drink, many cannot make such a “clean” jump. For those, say the Slicks, the Alternative is “one step away from the next drink.”

Join The Family

Slick’s has few rules: no one under 18; no alcohol or mood-altering chemicals used, sold, or allowed; a four-dollar cover charge on Fridays and Saturdays (to cover the cost of the live band); and a “come-on-in-join-the-family” attitude that draws 200 to 300 people every weekend night.

Bill Brownlee, nicknamed “Doc,” has been coming to Slick’s for five or six nights a week for the past five years. Perched on a bar stool, he and Bob Slick trade barbs and reminisce. Doc needs little encouragement to tell what the place means to him. Brownlee had been out of treatment about a year, yet missed the social environment of a bar.

“From the first night I walked in, Bob nicknamed me ‘Doc,’ ” he says. “The name and this place have been part of my life ever since. Bob likes to call the Alternative ‘family,’ and I do think that a lot of people like myself who come here all the time really feel like family. It’s a good feeling.”

Doc, like many Alternative customers, attends weekly meetings at AA. “I frequently bring new people [from AA] here because they often say, ‘But how can you have fun anymore if you can’t drink?’ Once they come out here on a Friday or Saturday night and see how much fun people really can have without liquor, they’re surprised and just love to come.”

“The tension, the fights, the pretenses, and the pressures found at places serving alcohol are not at a place like this,” says Steve, another Alternative family member. Dressed in a T-shirt and a black leather vest, with a large tattoo on one arm, he jokes and teases with Diane Slick as he plays pool with another Wednesday-night regular.

“What keeps me coming is the people. I’ve got to be around people; but if I want to stay sober, I have to hang around with sober people. If you hang around sick people, you’re going to get sick too.

“It’s not the bar atmosphere that is the threat to sobriety,” he says. “It’s the people in that alcoholic bar that threaten the recovering alcoholic.”

Respect And Rapport

It doesn’t take long to see the special relationship and respect between customers and owners at the Alternative. On busy nights, it is not unusual to see customers pitch in and help out. “How many other bars would want their clients collecting money, mixing drinks, and waiting tables?” Bob asks. “Not many; but we trust our people.”

Bob’s own past as a drinker, he says, gives him a unique rapport with the recovering alcoholics who come in.

“I’ve been there. I hurt a lot of people. I messed up and I know how it feels to climb out of all of that. I don’t have to go home and look up in a book what these people are talking about. I’ve been the whole nine yards myself,” he says.

Married in 1964, Bob and Diane separated in 1976. Bob’s drinking was the prime reason for the split. They divorced two years later—the same year Bob sought help at Saint Mary’s Hospital in Minneapolis, which specializes in chemical dependency treatment.

After Bob’s treatment, Diane and their two children, Lisa and Jim, began to see a real change in him. A renewed courtship began, and in 1980 they were remarried.

“I know it’s because of our faith and the many people who prayed for us—especially my family—that we’re together today.” Neither Diane nor her family lost faith in their prayers for Bob’s recovery from alcoholism and his return to the family.

Early in 1983, Bob’s father suggested they open a dry bar after he had visited one. It seemed to be the answer for the Slicks and for so many others like them. But making the answer a reality was another matter.

At the time, Bob was unemployed. They had little cash or collateral for such a risky venture. But Bob made one visit to see a dry bar in operation and knew it was what he wanted to do.

“Some may talk about being a savior and all that stuff, but it wasn’t that. I really just felt it was something I had to do. I had faith from day one. I didn’t even consider we could fail,” he says. “I honestly felt God wanted this place here for a reason.

“I asked God to give us the strength to do this. If it wasn’t meant to be then that was okay, too. Whatever we were supposed to do, I just wanted the strength and his guidance.”

Not So Grand Opening

The transformation of a former carpet store to a country and western bar took lots of elbow grease and commitment from the whole family. Days, nights, and weekends were spent washing and painting walls, varnishing second-hand tables and a large wooden bar, as well as securing the needed permits to provide food, parking, and live music.

The location hardly seemed promising: the dry bar sat in the middle of a semivacant shopping center, which had two discount liquor stores and a bar at each end of the parking lot. The grand opening held on September 16, 1983, was anything but grand. Each week dragged the Slicks deeper in debt.

“I used to sit on the barstool near the door to take tickets on Friday and Saturday, and I would pray every time I saw a car drive into the shopping center, hoping it was coming to our place and not the liquor stores across the lot,” Diane says.

By the end of January 1984, the place was catching on, the crowds were growing larger, and the owners were no longer seeing “red” at the end of each week’s tally sheet. A big break came when the bar hosted a local gathering for the Jerry Lewis Telethon for Muscular Dystrophy. The televised event brought publicity and customers. Now, the Alternative customers outnumber the other establishments in the center ten to one on weekends.

Each weekend Bob awards “Alternative Medallions” to those who have reached a mark in their sobriety—be it three weeks, three months, years, or “whatever it takes to let them know we support them.” The gold piece bearing the Serenity Prayer on one side and the Alternative horseshoe logo on the other has caused more than a few to choke up in gratitude and is proudly worn by many entering Slick’s.

Bob and Diane are quick to point out that not all of the efforts made by the Alternative family have happy endings. “Most people who come in here,” Bob says, “are working on their problems and are really trying to climb out from under. But there are those who haven’t made that decision to change their lives, and that can be frustrating and depressing to see them fall back time and time again.” Bob, an obvious optimist, concedes, “There are a lot of broken promises, broken hearts, and broken lives that come in here.”

The Slicks may never get rich running the Alternative, but Diane and Bob say that was never their goal. “We wanted to make a difference in peoples’ lives, to offer a little hope, faith, and an alternative to the way they had been living,” Diane says.

“When we opened up we thought it was just going to be a business, but it’s not,” Diane says. “These people are our friends. They would help us, and we them, in any way that we can.”

“And the reward of seeing even a few make it,” Bob adds, “means more than anything money could buy.”

By Mary Ann Kuharski, a free-lance writer in Minneapolis.

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