When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them.
Acts 2:1-3
Things you learn when preparing a Daily Moment. We generally follow the practice of looking at Daily Office readings and recent/upcoming feast days. This is how we learned that April 26th was... the feast of St. Trudpert.
Who?
Bear with us, because there is a story here.
St. Trudpert was a missionary who was martyred in Germany in the seventh century. He may have been Celtic, or he may have been German. Wikipedia tells us: “The story of his life is so full of legendary details that no correct judgment can be formed of Trudpert's era, the kind of work he did, or of its success.”
Before 2011, Catherine and I had never heard of him either. Then in 2011 we visited an abbey named in his honor in the German village of
Münstertal, just before highway L130 begins its climb into the Black Forest in a succession of heart-stopping curves and ten percent grades. We had stopped for a couple of coffees at a snack bar for the drive ahead. We spotted the abbey’s baroque onion dome peeking through the trees on the hill above, and decided to take a moment to visit.
St. Trudpert’s Abbey was the first baroque church we had ever visited, and it was breathtaking. Before he was martyred near Münstertal (there is some agreement about this), St. Trudpert established a hermitage in Münstertal which became a monastery in the 9th century. Like many church buildings in Europe, the abbey has weathered its share of plunderings, wars, and disasters. While the abbey itself was secularized early in the 1800s, the abbey church has continued as the Roman Catholic place of worship for
Münstertal and its valley.
We had arrived at St. Trudpert’s shortly after Pentecost, to find its sublime baroque nave decorated in Pentecost flames of red cardboard dangling from its frescoed ceiling. So many, in fact, that we could not find a photo of the nave or the sanctuary where the cardboard flames did not intrude. This was mildly annoying – particularly for the trip photographer – until we listened to the Lord’s still small voice.
The message of this church on that lovely late spring morning was a Pentecost message. After centuries of war and tumult, and times of laxity and abandonment, the Holy Spirit was in this place. Stunning as it is, St. Trudpert’s church is not simply an architectural exhibit for tourists about to enter the Black Forest. The testimony of the cardboard flames is that this church is there to serve, to comfort and heal the broken, and to commission and send forth the faithful. It is there to equip disciples to the work of the Kingdom.
Just so with our own lovely church at All Saints! There we gather, and from there we are sent forth. As Pentecost approaches, we need to contemplate the Holy Spirit’s anointing of the first disciples gathered in the upper room in Jerusalem – portrayed with both whimsy and purpose at the abbey church of St. Trudpert’s in a far off German village.
We come to church to take hold of the flames that the Holy Spirit has given to us, and then go out to do the work of the Kingdom.
A belated happy Feast of St. Trudpert, and God bless you!
Richard and Catherine
