Sunday, October 15- I was getting a little tired of charcuterie for breakfast so I opted for granola instead. Later our local guide, Ernst, told us the bread- zopf- is a Swiss Sunday tradition. It's a soft bread made with extra butter, and braided into loaves. I was sorry I missed it! Richard had tried it and said it was really good.
We left our hotel at 8:45am and attended Langnau Mennonite Church, the oldest Mennonite church in the world, for their morning service.
I didn't understand much of the service, but I got enough to know the sermon text was 1 Samuel 25; Richard understood a smidge more than I did. I used Google Lens to translate the songs so we could at least understand what they were singing even if we weren't familiar with the tunes. The only German song I know is Gott ist Die Liebe; my grandparents made sure their grandchildren learned it. We were fortunate enough to be sitting next to Ernst, who is a good singer; it was an experience just to listen to him.
After the service was over and the parishioners cleared out, the pastor shared the history of the church and the village with us. He was fluent in English so that was very interesting. 
Ironically, we were there [in Europe] to find our roots, while it seemed like the majority of them couldn't have cared less about their genealogy. They have all this Anabaptist history "right under those noses" but don't have any interest in "the Mennonite game". However, there are exceptions to every rule- there was one lady that we talked to that, unknown to us, drove home to get her hand-drawn 7 generation family tree to show Richard & I. Several of our group flocked around her information. I don't think anyone shared the same surname with her, but we found many common Mennonite names in her tree. I was pleased to find some Burkholders. 
A few of us took a quick jog through the cemetery across the road from the church. It was disappointing. We discovered that because land is at a premium, the Swiss recycle their graves. About every 25 years, they remove headstones- the family is given the option to keep or recycle it, and someone new is buried in that spot. The idea is that over years of visiting and tending a gravesite, a person comes to terms with loss, until the time comes for the grave to be "aufgehoben.” I might be a practical person, but I'm not that practical! My brother has been gone longer than 25 years -I would hate not having a grave anymore to visit. So anyway, there were no old graves there. Richard found one Stauffer but no one old enough to be a direct relative.
Finding a restaurant that was open on a Sunday and could handle 42 people was a challenge, but Ernst knew of a place. It was a buffet in a truckstop -something we're quite comfortable with. (Of course, I had to get a picture of the row of semis.)
I did not take any pictures of our food or inside the restaurant. Richard went for the traditional fare, but I spotted an Asian counter- the sign above said shrimp, teriyaki sauce, etc. Only after I had rice in my bowl did I discover they did not have any of those things that day. There was only a spicy Thai sauce; I looked around for something else to eat with my rice but finding none, I gingerly fished out a few pieces of meat & veggies. The cashier said it was normally 15 francs but because I didn't make my bowl very full she only charged us half price. Even that minimal serving was enough to make my mouth burn and I ate most of our piece of cake afterwards to tame the fire. Black forest cake = another ✔ on my bucket list. 👏
Next we went to Bern. It was on our schedule to do a walking tour, but we didn't even stop anywhere in the city. Apparently there was no bus parking, a lot of one-way streets, and much city traffic so our bus driver was eager to get away from there. We empathized with him but I was still disappointed. We drove by the famous bear pits, but I didn't even attempt to take a picture because I was still under the assumption we were going to park and get out. Our tour leaders said it's often a waste of time because in their experience there are usually no bears in the pit anyway.
Bern is the capital of Switzerland. We drove by government buildings -this one is the Swiss Parliament Building.
I was hoping to hear the famous Bern clock strike the hour- I've been told it's very impressive, but we didn't even drive by it. We did see this church steeple. Poor Ernst was trying to explain to us that when we see a cross on top of a church steeple it's a Catholic church, if there is a rooster it is a Reformed church, but he couldn't think of the English word for rooster. He asked us what the word is for a man chicken, much to the amusement of some of the men.
Anabaptists first arrived in Bern just weeks after the first baptisms, sometime in 1525. The Anabaptists in Bern were heavily persecuted. Already in 1527, the government leaders of Bern issued a mandate that all Anabaptists in their city would face death by drowning. Through the middle of the 18th century, the Bernese authorities were diligent about ridding their land of the “Anabaptist plague". They had a group called the Tauferjager (Anabaptists constabulary), whose sole job was to root out Anabaptists. They were spies, allowed to infiltrate and do whatever was necessary to identify the Anabaptists among them. And yet many Anabaptists refused to leave behind their friends, family and jobs to flee Bern and find homes elsewhere. A mass deportation of Anabaptists from Bern in 1671 included 90 yr. old Christian Stauffer, my ancestor.
We drove by some beautiful farmland to the east of Bern.
Our next stop was the Haslebacher Hof near Sumiswald. They have a small room commemorating Hans Haslibacher, the last Anabaptist martyr in Bern. The 15th generation of Haslebachers live here today.
Here is the history: After Hans became a 'Taufer', he became very active in preaching/teaching and soon suffered persecutions for his faith. When he was around fifty years old he fled for his life because of his faith. No one, not even his family, knew where he went. Thirty years later, at 80 years old, he thought it might be safe to return to his home area. However, he was arrested and imprisoned. For several days Hans was harshly threatened and when he refused to recant, he was sentenced to be beheaded on October 20, 1571. On the night before his death, God revealed to him in a dream three signs that would follow his death. Hymn No. 140 in the Ausbund, thirty-two verses long, gives the story of Han's sentencing, his death, and the signs that followed: the sun shone crimson red, the water in the village well in Bern spurted blood, and his head rolled into his hat and laughed. The executioner was heard to say that he had shed innocent blood. Hans was the last Anabaptist executed by the City of Bern.
On the property was a modern farm with a robotic milking parlor. That was interesting.
When we were ready to leave, one of the ladies couldn't find her phone. We searched and prayed and searched some more. We were sitting right behind her so our bags and belongings got thoroughly searched by multiple people, too. Her steps were retraced multiple times. Tried calling her phone but the volume was turned down low -nothing. Finally we didn't know what else to do but leave Duane's number with the Haslebachers in case they find it, and go on. Once the bus was running, the wifi came back on and someone tried calling her through WhatsApp. Lo and behold, the phone rang in the seatback pocket across the aisle! She had laid it down on the seat across the aisle when she got on the bus. The person sitting in that seat got on the bus and thinking it was her seatmate's phone slipped it in the seat pocket. Thank you, Jesus! We got a good laugh out of it and gave her a hard time about having her phone ever after that. She was such a good sport about it.
Our next stop was not very far away- Trachselwald, a castle where the Anabaptists were imprisoned & tortured for their faith. This was the place I was most looking forward to experiencing after we decided to go to Europe!
the oldest part of the castle dates back to 1313…
We gathered here in the foyer of the tower to sing "Faith of Our Fathers", which was the highlight of the trip for me. (I have a video of it, but the file size prohibits me from sharing it here.) I got a lump in my throat while we were singing.
Faith of our fathers, living still,
In spite of dungeon, fire, and sword...
Our fathers, chained in prisons dark,
Were still in heart and conscience free...
Faith of our fathers, holy faith!
We will be true to thee till death.
It's highly probable that my ancestors were imprisoned here. Because of their courage and commitment, I have the heritage of faith that I do. It's humbling. Oh, may all who come behind us find us faithful!
We're pilgrims on the journey Surrounded by so greatOf the narrow road, A cloud of witnesses,And those who've gone before us Let us run the raceLine the way. Not only for the prize,Cheering on the faithful, But as those who've gone before us.Encouraging the weary, Let us leave to those behind us,Their lives a stirring testament The heritage of faithfulnessTo God's sustaining grace. Passed on thru godly lives.O may all who come behind us After all our hopes and dreamsFind us faithful, Have come and gone,May the fire of our devotion And our children sift thru allLight their way. We've left behind,May the footprints that we leave, May the clues that they discover,Lead them to believe, And the mem'ries they uncover,And the lives we live Become the light that leads them,Inspire them to obey. To the road we each must find.O may all who come behind us O may all who come behind usFind us faithful. Find us faithful.
The only photo I have of a cell with restraints has Ron in it, pretending to be a martyr. Sorry, Ron! The history I have says Trachselwald was the equivalent of a county jail; Bern & Thun had the equivalent of a state prison. So Anabaptists in the area were imprisoned here first, then some were later transported to Bern.
We climbed the spiral stairs to the very top of the tower. I didn't get a very good photo of the stairs, but it's definitely a steep one-way street!
My mom said to compare our photos to the Burkholder book when we get home. So we did.
Bingo! I was so excited when I figured out that we nailed it! That farm on the hill to the left side is the one. The very last photo we took from the tower. We were so close to the ancestral home!
We scrawled our names on the wall up there in the tower and took a photo to commemorate being there.
There was another building on the grounds with a lot of relevant history, but we were running out of time by then. I had to go through it too fast and missed a lot. This was the one place I felt rushed.
.jpg)
We drove back to Appenberg [hotel] for dinner at 6pm. We had beet soufflé for a salad. It tasted better than I expected, but meh, half a serving was enough for me.
2 of Ernst's friends came and they played the alp horns for us. Wow! Our own private concert! The sound was incredible in that small dining room. 😍 We also had a couple in our group do some yodeling for us. Now I know we have Swiss in our DNA. I felt a connection to that music way more than the music in Africa.
-to be continued-
1 comment:
Really, really enjoying this tour..thanks for sharing!
Post a Comment