The Dance (II) by Henri Matisse

When I was at Grammar School back in the late 1950s I was a real sports fanatic – you name it, I played it. Unfortunately the only way you could get selected for any of the school teams (if you were a boy that is) was if you also went to Scottish Country Dancing?! Scottish Country Dancing was an ‘after school activity’ – very popular with the girls but shunned by the boys. It was run by our Games Master – ‘Jock’ Hall (the clue is in the name) – who hit on this cunning plan to recruit more males to Scottish Country Dancing, and ‘macho’ guys at that! Needless to say I was useless at it! My wife and daughter would both say that I remain useless at all kinds of dancing to this day – typical ‘Dad dancing’ my daughter calls it – and they are probably right! There is, however, one kind of ‘dance’ that we can all enjoy – but more of that later!

Trinity Sunday is (as the name suggests) a Sunday when those churches that follow the Church Calendar explore the fact that God is a Trinity – three Persons but one Godhead. Many of the clergy openly confess that they find this difficult. On the other hand, the majority of Free Church Evangelicals and Charismatic Churches have no problem with Trinity Sunday – they just ignore it!? But, why are the clergy so reluctant to talk about the Trinity, or so turgid and tortured when they do so? I know that for some preaching on ‘The Trinity’ can be a difficult task. But sometimes we preachers make it difficult – not only for ourselves, but for those who listen to us. I also wonder why so many of those who do get into the pulpit to preach on Trinity Sunday either descend to the depths of heresy or rise to the heights of lunacy?

The novelist Dorothy Sayers (who was a professing Christian) wrote a humorous essay entitled The Dogma is the Drama on the relevance of Christian doctrine to real life. In this essay she draws up a kind of questionnaire with the sort of answers she felt ordinary people would give to questions about God and the Trinity. I quote:

Question: What does the Church think of God the Father?

Answer: He is omnipotent and holy. He created the world and imposed on man conditions impossible of fulfilment. He is very angry if these are not carried out. He sometimes interferes by means of arbitrary judgment and miracles, distributed with a good sense of favouritism. He likes to be truckled to, and is always ready to pounce on anybody who trips up over a difficulty in the Law, or is having a bit of fun. He is rather like a dictator, only larger and more arbitrary.

Question: What does the Church think of God the Son?

Answer: He is in some way to be identified with Jesus of Nazareth. It was not his fault that the world was made like this and, unlike God the Father, he is friendly to man and did his best to reconcile man and God. He has a good deal of influence with God, and if you want anything done, it’s best to apply to him.

Question: What does the Church think of God the Holy Ghost?

Answer: I don’t know exactly. He was never seen or heard of till Whit Sunday. There is a sin against him which damns you for ever, but nobody knows what it is.

Question: What is the doctrine of the Holy Trinity?

Answer: ‘The Father incomprehensible, the Son incomprehensible, the Holy Ghost incomprehensible’ – the whole thing incomprehensible. Something put in by theologians to make it more difficult. Nothing to do with daily life and reality.

Incomprehensible? Nothing to do with daily life and reality? These are some of the difficulties both clergy and laity confess to when it comes to thinking and talking about the Trinity? An academic colleague of mine, who teaches doctrine at a well known theological college, asked his students to write an essay on the meaning and significance of the doctrine of the Trinity. One student sent in an essay on a completely different subject, with a covering note: ‘I don’t understand the doctrine of the Trinity … so here is an essay on the Kings of Israel instead!’ To a degree I have some sympathy with this student. Understanding (and communicating) the concept of God as Trinity is not easy … and yet it is vital. God is not the Father alone, or Jesus alone, or the Holy Spirit alone, but Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – three Persons in one God-head – each perfectly equal in divinity to the other. There is much more to God as Trinity than this, of course, not least the idea of harmonious activity between the various members of the Trinity, which is the aspect I am seeking to emphasise here. The concept of God as Trinity lays at the very heart of the Christian Faith and Gospel – which is why it needs to be clearly taught and explained, not just on Trinity Sunday but repeatedly throughout the church year and church programme.

We find the concept of God as Trinity throughout the Bible – from their involvement in the Creation narrative (Genesis 1-3; John 1), in Abraham’s encounter with God at the Oaks of Mamre (Genesis 18), in Isaiah’s recognition of God as Trinity (Isaiah 6), in the baptism of Jesus (Matthew 3:13-17), to Paul’s great Trinitarian blessing to the Corinthian Church (2 Corinthians 13:14), to give but a few examples. Another classic example comes during what is known as ‘The Upper Room Discourses’ where Jesus (shortly before his arrest and crucifixion) seeks to explain to his disciples that they will not be left on their own with his departure, but ‘another Helper’, God the Holy Spirit, will come to them in a new way. Jesus explains to them that ‘when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. He will glorify me because it is from me that he will receive what he will make known to you. All that belongs to the Father is mine. That is why I said the Spirit will receive from me what he will make known to you.’ (John 16:13-15). Here we see the members of the Trinity not only engaging meaningfully with each other, but engaging with the believer, and the believer engaging with each member of the Trinity! What we see here, once again, is the harmonious activity of the various members of the Trinity – a harmonious activity into which we are invited!

Because the concept of God as Trinity is a living reality – not dry old incomprehensible doctrine irrelevant to daily life and reality – we need to explore lateral ways of thinking of God as the Trinity. The best theological minds have always understood the need to do this. Two of the great Early Fathers of the Church, Saint Gregory of Nazianzus and Saint John of Damascus, used the term perichoresis to describe the mysterious union of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. The word perichoresis comes from two Greek words, peri, which means ‘around’ and chorea, which means ‘dance.’ Perichoresis is a theological term referring to the mutual indwelling and intersecting of the three persons of the Godhead and, if anything, helps in some ways to better clarify the concept of the Trinity. It is a term that expresses intimacy between the persons of the Godhead. Perichoresis has been called the ‘divine dance’ – that profound union of Father, Son and Holy Spirit that has gone on since eternity past, goes on now, and will go on forever! Perichoresis is a fellowship of three co-equal beings perfectly embraced in love and harmony and expressing an intimacy that no one can humanly completely comprehend. Perhaps the most amazing fact about this eternal dance – for us anyway – is that God himself invites us to join in the dance! There is an open invitation for all those whom the Father has foreknown, the Son has redeemed, and the Spirit has enlivened and sanctified. It is this invitation to dance with God that John 16:13-15 best expresses. In fact everything about us as Christians – our individual walk with God, our family life, our church community, our mission, and so on – should reflect this wonderful truth. It is surely time for us to junk institutional religion and recover what it really mean to be in a joyous relationship with the Living God!

One of my favourite artists is Henri Matisse (1869-1954), a French painter known for his wonderful use of colour and his fluid and original draughtsmanship. And one of my favourite paintings by Matisse is La Danse (or The Dance). There are, in fact, two versions of the painting, one painted in stronger colours than the other but essentially both the same in design. They both show five dancing figures set against the background of a simple green landscape and blue sky. The dancing figures suggest, at one and the same time, a sense of deep concentration and connection with each other coupled with a genuine sense of freedom and sheer exhilaration. I don’t know if Matisse had any kind of understanding of God as Trinity, or any kind of ‘faith’, but the painting always reminds me of perichoresis – the divine dance, which we are all invited to join in with! In fact here is a dance that even the non-dancers and the Dad-dancers amongst us will be able to do because, as Karen Baker-Fletcher says in her book, Dancing With God, ‘the Trinity [is] God’s invitation for us to dance with God!’

God is not a belief-system.
Jesus is not a religion.
Christianity is not a check-list.
Church is not an address.
The Bible is not a book of doctrines.
Community is not a meeting.
Grace has no exceptions.
Ministry is not a program.
Art is not carnal.
Women are not inferior.
Our humanity is not the enemy.
Sinner is not our identity.
Love is not a theory.
Peace is not a circumstance.
Science is not secular.
Sex is not filthy.
Life is not a warm-up for Heaven
The world is not without hope.
There is no ‘us’ and ‘them.’
Tattoos are not evil.
Loving the earth is not satanic.
Seeing the divine in all things is not heretical.
Self-actualization is not self-worship.
Feelings are not dangerous and unreliable.
The mind is not infallible.

Jim Palmer, Notes From (over) The Edge

Jim Binney

The Fire of the Holy Spirit

Back in the 1970s I pastored an Assemblies of God Church in the valleys of South Wales. On Sunday Mornings we had a Breaking of Bread Service which, as well as preaching and Communion, featured a time of open prayer and worship in which any member of the congregation could participate. Always the first to pray was Mrs Pullen – an elderly widow who faithfully cared for her middle-aged daughter who had learning difficulties. Mrs Pullen was a very devout Christian who had been converted in the 1904 Welsh Revival. She was not enamoured by what she saw as a somewhat lower level of commitment to Christ in the rest of us, compared to those who came through those red hot fiery days of Revival! I recall her getting to her feet one day (she always sat in the front row of the church) and praying, ‘Lord, I thank you that I was born in the fire’ – and then after a dramatic pause in which she turned round and looked at the rest of us, continuing her prayer – ‘and not in the smoke!’

Pentecost Sunday is that day in the Church Calendar when we Christians celebrate that first great outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the gathered church community in the Upper Room in Jerusalem, 2,000 years ago. Luke tells us that ‘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. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them’ (Acts 2:1-4). ‘Suddenly’, Luke tells us, the Spirit of God came upon the gathered church – and his coming was accompanied by three supernatural signs – a sound, a sight, and strange speech! Firstly, there came from heaven ‘a sound like the blowing of a violent wind’ and the noise ‘filled the whole house where they were sitting’(Acts 2:2). Secondly, there appeared visibly to them ‘what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them’ (Acts 2:3) as an individual possession. And thirdly, ‘all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues (that is, languages of some kind) as the Spirit enabled them’ (Acts 2:4).

These three experiences seemed like natural phenomena – wind, fire, and speech – yet, in reality, they were supernatural phenomena both in origin and character. The noise was not wind, but sounded like it! The sight was not fire, but resembled it! And the speech was in languages which were not ordinary but in some way ‘other’! Their higher senses were affected in that they heard the wind-like sound, saw the fire-like flames, and spoke the ‘other’ languages! And yet what they experienced was far more than merely sensory – it was significant! These three signs represented a new era of the Spirit of God that had begun and the new work he had come to do. The noise like wind symbolised the power that Jesus had promised every believer for victorious Christian living and effective  witness (Luke 24:49; Acts 1:8). The sight like fire symbolised the purity – like the live coal cleansed Isaiah (Isaiah 6:6,7) – that marks the believer out as being different to those who live according to the ways of the world. And the speech in other languages symbolises the universality of the Christian Church – the fact that the Gospel is for everyone and anyone – effective for the salvation of all who dare to believe (Romans 1:16)!

How we need to recover these wonderful truths today – not just academically but more  importantly, experientially! It has become popular, in recent years, for local Christian churches to ‘get together’ ecumenically on Pentecost Sunday to demonstrate their unity and celebrate the ‘birthday of the Church’. Thus, as Pentecost approaches, you will see countless adverts inviting all and sundry to ‘Pentecost Praise’, or the ‘Church Birthday Party’ or a ‘Party in the Park’, and so on. I am not against this. I am all in favour of local churches demonstrating the fact the we are ‘one in Christ’, and taking the Gospel out on to the streets! At the same time, however, I cannot but feel that we are ‘missing a trick or two’ here!  For me Pentecost is all about the ‘empowering’ of the Church so that we might be an effective force for God in this needy world. Reducing Pentecost to a ‘birthday party’ is to miss the point completely, in my view. Personally speaking, I am not at all sure that we are correct theologically in even speaking of the Day of Pentecost as the ‘birthday of the Church’ – the coming into being of the Church as the people of God is a far more complicated a matter, and certainly many of the Early Church Fathers believed that the Church came into being before the creation of the world.

My own conviction is that we are being side-tracked by all this ‘birthday of the Church’ stuff, and that we need to get back to all that it means for us, as Christians, to be truly ‘baptised (or filled) with the Holy Spirit’ (Acts 1:4,5; 2:4). Rather than getting together to ‘party in the park’ and ‘sing our jolly songs’ it would be more profitable for churches to get down and spend serious time in prayer, waiting on God, for him to pour out his Spirit upon us afresh!  The blunt truth of the matter is that the Charismatic Renewal of the 1960s and 1970s ceased a long time ago. Rather than live  pretending that Charismatic Renewal is still with us, we need to be seeking God for a new anointing of his Spirit for today. We desperately need the fire to fall again upon us if we are going to make a difference and impact this broken and hurting and needy world we live in!

A Pastor was roused from his sleep one night by the police with the news that his church had caught fire. Hurrying to the scene he found the fire brigade quickly bringing the fire under control. Apparently more serious damage had been averted by the prompt and zealous action of a man who lived just across from the church. He had spotted the fire, phoned the police and fire brigade, and also managed to put out a good proportion of the fire by the time the fire brigade arrived. Visiting the  man a few days later, to thank him for his invaluable help and assistance, the Pastor enquired as to why he had not seen the man in church before since he lived so close. ‘Well’, replied the man, ‘the church has never been on fire before!’

‘O God of burning, cleansing flame,
Send the fire!
Your blood-bought gift today we claim,
Send the fire today!
Look down and see this waiting host,
And send the promised Holy Ghost,
We need another Pentecost,
Send the fire today!
Send the fire today!

~ William Booth (1829-1912)

Jim Binney

Easy Jet Flight to Gatwick

We wake, on our last day here in Nice, to the sound of road drills right outside our apartment! The French are finally back at work after all their various ‘bank holiday’ days off!? We feel sorry for the people who will be coming to stay in this lovely apartment tomorrow, if they are to have all this noise for days on end. We feel even more sorry when we see the weather forecast for Nice – it is bright and sunny right now but the forecast promises cloud and rain for the next week or so, beginning later today. We don’t have to be out of the apartment by 10.30 a.m. – our flight home is not until  3.15 p.m. – and Swellin says we can stay as long as we like. So a leisurely last breakfast on our lovely sunny balcony it is, then!

We pack our cases, clean the apartment, take a last look at the view across the roof tops, and say a final ‘Goodbye’ to this great little studio apartment. We are a bit early – it is about 12 noon – but we are going to catch the special airport bus rather than take another taxi and we want to be sure to find our way. The taxi cost us about 35€ from the airport to the apartment when we arrived, and the airport bus is only 6€ each. The bus stop is about 15 minutes walk away from our apartment … although we are not exactly sure where? We are hoping that we will see other people with cases and just follow them. We get to where we think the bus stop is, and a bus comes along with ‘Airport’ on the front. It slows down and I think it is going to stop and let us on. Instead the bus driver points back along the road, makes a funny ‘bendy arm’ movement with his hand, and drives off again? He obviously knows we are Brits – only Brits would be wearing all the clothes we are wearing (the clothes we couldn’t get in our cases) on a beautifully hot, sunny day in Nice! He knows we are on the way to the airport – we have our suitcases with us and are also furiously trying to ‘flag him down’ so that he will let us on his bus! Is this pointing backwards with the funny bendy arm movement a new form of French insult aimed at Brits?

We walk back along the busy street in the direction the bus driver pointed and eventually find a bus stop. We ask a girl waiting for a bus if this is where we get a bus to the airport? She doesn’t know! Perhaps if she stopped long enough to bother to take her headphones off she might hear better? Fortunately a nice man arrives at the bus stop and Julia asks him the same question. ‘I am sorry, I don’t speak French’ he says, ‘You don’t happen to speak English do you?’ He is an American … and he knows exactly where the bus stop for the special bus that goes directly to the airport non-stop is. It is just down the road we are on, and round the corner. Now we understand the French bus driver’s pointing and funny bendy arm movement – it wasn’t an insult – it meant back down the road and round the corner!

When we get to the special bus stop there are people with cases waiting – not too many, but enough to let us know we are on the right track. Inspector Montalbano (from the wonderful BBC 4 TV Italian Detective Series) is also there – well someone who looks just like him – and he tells us that he going to the same part of the airport that we are going to. All we have to do is to follow him then! The bus arrives and we get on and sit near the front. This is a mistake. The driver is obvious bored with his job and is incessantly on his mobile phone throughout the whole 20 minute journey. I am mesmerised watching him talk non-stop, dial other numbers on his phone between calls, and drive the bus through busy traffic – all at the same time. We arrive somehow without having an accident, and check in. Our cases are within the weight limit, we are not carrying anything dangerous, our passport photographs are not deemed suspicious … so we leave our cases at the drop off point and go and find somewhere to eat our picnic lunch … and have a coffee.  As we sit drinking our coffee, looking out over Nice, the weather changes. The sun disappears, and wet, misty weather sweeps in from the sea!

About half an hour before our flight is called we walk across to the designated gate. We stop on the way to get some bottles of water for the flight. A group of young French people walk by. One of the boys is giving his girlfriend a piggy back. He obviously wants to impress her with his strength. I smile at them as they go by. The boy gives me his macho look … the girl smiles back at me with amusement … and then his trousers fall down! We all roar with laughter! So much for being a ‘macho man’ then?! We sit down by the designated gate – we are flying back by Easy Jet – and wait to be let on to our plane. As we sit there with all the others waiting for our flight there is a message over the tannoy concerning our flight. It is in French … and we struggle to make out what it is about? It is then repeated in English … and we still struggle to make it out? The gist of it is that Easy Jet are short of staff, and since there is so much luggage to go on to our plane, Easy Jet are looking for passengers who will volunteer to help load all the luggage on to the plane!? We all look at each other in amazement? ‘Did they really say what we thought they said?’ we all ask one another? Someone goes to check at the gate. It turns out they were talking about hand luggage! There is too much of it … and they want volunteers to stow their hand luggage in the belly of the plane as well as their cases! Volunteers will be rewarded with free ‘Speedy Boarding’ passes … which is no reward at all because we all have allocated seat numbers on Easy Jet these days! Anyway, problem solved … we don’t have to load our own luggage on the plane after all … much to everyone’s relief!

The flight is pleasant enough, and soon we are back over the UK, and landing at Gatwick Airport. We set off from the North Terminal 11 days ago, having left our car in the North Terminal Long Stay Car Park. All we have to do is to disembark from the plane, go through passport control, collect our luggage, catch the free bus to the North Terminal Long Stay Car Park, collect our car, and drive home to Rodden. What could be easier? As our plane taxies to a halt the pilot blandly announces that we have in fact landed at the South Terminal instead of the North Terminal! Whoops?

We get through passport control o.k. – the nice guy on passport control even wishes Julia a happy birthday! We retrieve our luggage and eventually find our way back to the North Terminal, via the inter-connecting very posh Gatwick railway system (obviously landing at the wrong Terminal is par for the course here). We find the way to our little Corsa and load all our stuff into the boot and on to the back seat (Julia’s case won’t fit in our boot). The car starts first time and we enjoy a very pleasant drive home through the lovely English countryside. It is a gorgeous evening – warm and sunny – probably better in the UK than in Nice we guess?! When we arrive back at Chipps Barton, Reggie Doggie is first out to meet us. He is so excited to see us, running round and round us, and jumping up to greet us!  It has been a great holiday … Nice was nice … but it is also nice to be home again!

The Russian Orthodox Church, Nice

We have abandoned the idea of visiting Cannes today and joining all the other ‘famous people’ on the red carpet at the Cannes Film Festival. We just don’t think that Leonardo Di Caprio could cope with our presence. We gather that his version of ‘The Great Gatsby’ is in enough trouble without us adding to it?! At least, that’s what his text message suggested this morning?  Well, it’s either that, or we didn’t get up early enough to catch the train to Cannes? Not that we mind … yesterday was such a brilliant day, and last night was such a brilliant night, that we are far too shattered to do anything really strenuous today – our last day here in Nice in what has been a fabulous holiday! We don’t even wake up until 10.00 a.m. This great little studio apartment has electric window shutters, and blackout curtains to boot!

We enjoy a leisurely breakfast – the first time we have actually eaten inside the apartment rather than on the balcony, because of the rain – and then spend a quiet morning relaxing and writing. About lunch time the weather has improved, so we venture out to explore some more of Nice. It has been impossible to see all that we have wanted to see, even though we will have been here for 10 days by the time we leave tomorrow.  It will be a good excuse for us to have to come back again! We want to go and visit two churches today. We want to go back to the Baptist Church we went to last Sunday evening. We were in such a hurry to ‘escape’ that I quite forgot to take any photographs? We also want to visit the Russian Orthodox Church here in Nice – apparently it is the largest Russian religious building outside Russia?!

We walk up to the station again, and pause to watch the police towing away a rather posh car that has been parked somewhat inappropriately outside the station building. They are rather scary, these French Gendarmes?! They all look as though they have been in the French Foreign Legion! Well, the men do, that is … the female officers always manage to look ‘chic’ as most of the French woman of all ages seem to do! We find a nice café to stop for a coffee – the French are so civilised in this respect and the coffee is so cheap compared with Costa (#costalotforyourcoffee) back in the UK. In fact we are very impressed with the way the French spend their money. France may be hopelessly in debt … but at least they spend their money on things that are aesthetically beautiful!

We find our way back to the French Baptist Church building. All signs of the ‘International Baptist Church of Nice’ have been removed and replaced by notices about the French Baptists celebrating their 100^th anniversary. Now we understand why there were all those placards all round the sanctuary about the history of this church? The building is all locked up, and the windows all shuttered, apart from one window where there are some badly hand written verses from the Bible on show, together with a rather dog-eared copy of the Bible?  Given that Nice is such an international city, why oh why can’t the French Baptists and the International Baptists work together as part of the same church in order to reach the thousands of people who live here? Sometimes, I almost despair?!

We take our photographs and then move on in search of the Russian Orthodox Church that is not too far from here. It is actually further than we have been led to believe but eventually we find it. In stark contrast to the Baptist Church, the Russian Orthodox Church is magnificent outside and inside! The outside of the building is spectacular, and the inside of the building is fascinating … full of icons and candles … everything makes you want to ask questions?  Whereas the Baptist Church is clearly shut … the door locked, the window shutters down, the only open window containing badly written Bible texts and a dog-eared Bible, and nobody present to either offer visitors a coffee or answer any questions as to what Baptist-Christians believe … the Russian Orthodox Church is open, and intriguing, with everything on show and someone constantly present to explain what Russian Orthodox Christians believe?!

We walk home to our wonderful studio apartment – just right for the two of us – situated in the Musicians Quarter of Nice, near to both the sea front and the railway station. We have time for a rest before a final dinner on our wonderful terrace! Tomorrow we will have to pack up, tidy the apartment, and leave to catch the bus to Nice airport for our flight home. This has been the most wonderful holiday. Every day has been filled with good things. We have experienced so much, and learned so much, during our time in this wonderful city. It truly has been nice in Nice!

Julia Celebrating her 55th Birthday

Today is Julia’s 55^th birthday … so I get up and make the tea … and give her the birthday card I have brought all the way from England with me. It has two little bears on it! For as long as we have know each other we have always exchanged cards with little bears on them … soppy pair!? We get up, get washed and dressed, have breakfast … all in record time … Julia has planned the day to the finest detail and we have a lot to get done!

We take the walk from our apartment to Nice Central Station. The walk seems shorter every time we make it and all this walking is certainly making us fitter and slimmer … despite all the meals we are also eating to get the energy to do all the walking?! We are not catching a train this time, but a bus – the number 17 to the end of the route up in the hills above Nice. Our destination is the Musée Matisse and the nearby Place du Monastère with its famous church, museum, and monastery garden. We wait ages for the bus, and when it arrives it is full of students blocking the doors. Julia pays the driver for our tickets and squirms through the crowd … leaving me stuck on the pavement. Nothing for it then, but to use my 6’4” frame and 16 stone in weight, to scatter French students to the right and left of me as (humming ‘Swing Low Sweet Chariot’) I make my way to join Julia in the middle of the bus. The bus wends its way through Nice and up into the hills, along narrow roads with steep bends, passing numerous beautiful villas, before depositing us at the entrance of the park complex containing the Musée Matisse and the Place du Monastère. The site is both tatty and beautiful with various Roman ruins scattered around as well. There is also a coffee shop which we head straight for!

Suitably fortified we visit the Musée Matisse first, and discover that it is free entry, presumably because they are doing a lot of exterior and interior work to prepare the place for a major exhibition in June. We love the work of Henri Matisse (1869-1954) – a French artist, known for his use of colour and his fluid and original draughtsmanship. We spend a wonderful hour or two simply wandering around, looking at all the wonderful sculptures, paintings, and other works of art housed here. We get to the museum shop just in time for it to close for lunch (even though it is 2.15 p.m.), so we go off back into the park to have our own picnic lunch whilst we wait for the museum shop to open again. Julia has her heart set on a few purchases for her birthday! After lunch we return to the museum, have another look around, and then make our various purchases … including a lovely necklace for Julia in the style of Matisse.

We walk the short distance to the Place du Monastère and visit the Monastère Franciscain with its fascinating church, monastery, and monastery gardens. Today is a special day in the church – venerating the sacrament – but we are allowed in. There are quite a number of people there. Some are waiting to go to confession, and others are sitting by the Chapel of the Sacrament. I think about going to confession … but there are too many people waiting to see the priest already? It is a good job that we can go straight to God with our confession, then! We enjoy the peaceful atmosphere and sit quietly for a while before leaving to visit the Musée Franciscain next door. It is very interesting although everything is in French and no other language so it is difficult to get the hang of the history and the purpose of the monastery. After leaving the museum we wander into the monastery garden … and it is magnificent. It is full of roses in bloom, giving off the most amazing fragrances, and with stupendous views over modern day Nice right as far as the sea. We spend a lot of time taking photos and just ‘being’ there. Finally it is time to catch our bus back home so we walk to the bus stop – via the ice cream stand of course – to wait for our bus.

Later on in the evening it is time to get ready to go out to dinner to celebrate Julia’s birthday! The weather has suddenly taken a turn for the worst and, after days of lovely warm sunshine, it has suddenly started to rain. It is still very warm … but it is also still very wet! What’s a little rain to a couple of Brits though!? We get all togged up and break open the champagne! Having drunk the whole bottle between us we shelter under our min-umbrella and totter off to a restaurant we spotted earlier in the week that has escargots (that is ‘snails’ to the un-enlightened, by the way) on the menu! Julia says she is ‘tottering’ because she is wearing high-heeled shoes! Nothing to do with her downing a couple of glasses of champagne earlier, then? We are grateful for the change in weather because very few French people are ‘out and about’ and there is plenty of room in the restaurant. We have the most wonderful meal – escargots to start, gambas in an intense Nicois sauce for the main course, and a wonderful sweet to conclude, all washed down with an excellent white wine.

After dinner, we huddle under our mini-umbrella, and venture out for a last walk along the Promenade des Anglais in the pouring rain on our way back to our studio apartment. We are the only Anglais on the Promenade des Anglais! In fact we are the only people on the Promenade des Anglais! We can only surmise that there are probably some French millionaires, in their sea-front apartments, looking out at us right at this moment, and saying to one another with cries of despair, ‘Ah! Les Anglais!’

Julia on her bike on the Promenade des Anglais

Julia reminds me – for the umpteenth time this holiday – that our whole 10 days here in Nice constitutes her 55^th birthday celebrations, and that therefore she has the right to choose what we do each day! As always, I am happy to go along with this – nothing much has changed really as a result of being in Nice for her birthday, I think?! So today we are venturing up to the Port Area of Nice … by bicycle would you believe?! Nice has a self-service bicycle rental system – Vélo Bleu – which provides an ecological way of getting round the city. There are 120 bicycle stations with 1200 bicycles throughout the town. All bicycles are available 24/7 every day of the year … and one of the bike stations is just behind our apartment block. It is quite cheap to rent a bike in this way, and you can return the borrowed bike to any of the numerous stations

We pack our picnic lunch into our haversacks and walk up the road to our local bike station. We carefully read the instructions … and it is more complicated than we thought … unless you are a local and used to the system, that is. We have to phone a number on our mobiles, leave our bank details, get a code, type in the number, release our bikes, adjust our saddles … and then we can ‘ride off into the sunset’?! Just getting through on our mobiles is a problem?! At our rate of progress in just freeing the bikes it probably will be ‘sunset’ before we get away? Fortunately a very nice ‘local’, who uses the bikes all the time, turns up and she takes us through the whole process. Easy when you know how!

We stack our bags in the bicycle baskets and set off for the Promenade des Anglais. Julia has a map that shows us the roads with cycle lanes, so I follow her. It is a good job Julia can’t see me. She is tearing along at the rate of knots and I am desperately wobbling along behind trying to keep up with her. We pass the Hotel Negresco. Christophe is waiting outside for some reason? He waves to Julia. I look him over – 4’6” in all directions and somewhat swarthy looking – nothing to worry about there, then?! Ten precarious minutes later I am safe on the Promenade des Anglais with its wide spaces and designated cycle lane. The Port Area is quite a way so we stop for coffee half way. The weather is perfect for cycling – warm and sunny but with a nice breeze as well. As we sit drinking our coffee we look out to sea and see the Corsica Ferry heading towards the Port. We really must go to Corsica one day!

We carry on along the Promenade des Anglais towards the Port Area. The cycle lane begins to climb … Julia changes gear and charges up the incline … I get off my bike and walk. We meet at the top where there is an amazing view back over Nice from the Place du 8 Mai 1945. We stop and take films and photos before free wheeling down towards the Port Area. We stop off at the amazing 1914-18 War Memorial dedicated to the 4,000 Nicois who lost their lives then. We cycle round the Port Area. It is pretty ordinary compared to Monaco or Saint Tropez but there are some very expensive boats moored there. Very prominent in the harbour is the huge ‘Diamonds Are Forever’ luxury motor yacht. I promise Julia I will buy it for her … when I have made my next £million … sorry, make that my next £60 million!

We find a nice spot for our picnic lunch overlooking the harbour where the Corsica Ferry has docked. We watch as they load hundreds of lorries, cars, caravans, etc. in preparation for the return trip. We wonder how on earth they will manage to get them all on board … but they do. When the ferry is fully loaded, and we have finished our picnic lunch, we get on our bikes and start back to Nice central. We stop to watch the ferry pull out of the harbour. The ferry dwarves about 20 small sailing dinghies that are also out in the Baie des Anges. Julia is glad that she is not out sailing in one of them as the ferry passes.

It is great fun cycling back to the centre of Nice. For a start it is down hill most of the way! When we get back to the main beaches area we have to stop so that Julia can go for a swim in the Mediterranean Sea. We park the bikes by some of the famous ‘blue seats’ that are all along the sea front. I am on ‘bag and bike guarding duty’ as Julia goes down to the sea, slips into her swimming costume, and dives in!  A coach load of Italian tourists pull up right by where Julia is swimming. They all get out of their coach and go down to the beach to watch Julia swimming. Is this because she looks ravishing in her swimming costume? Is it because of the elegant way Julia is swimming? Or is it because Julia is swimming in an area of beach where the red flags are out to say ‘No swimming!’ here?

Eventually Julia gets out of the water – after I have taken the requisite number of photos of her actually in the water, that is – and (after Julia has changed out of her costume) we get back on our bikes and cycle back to the bike station near our apartment. The road we want to take is blocked with traffic so Julia takes us on a somewhat circular route. It takes us through heavy traffic but eventually we arrive back at the place where we started from and park our bikes. I am exhausted but it has been a great day! We walk slowly back to our apartment with achy legs from all the cycling. We call into our local shop to buy a few bits and pieces … and a bottle of champagne to drink tomorrow evening before we go out to celebrate Julia’s birthday. When the nice lady in the shop discovers that it is Julia’s birthday she gives her a white rose! The fact that it is artificial doesn’t matter – it’s the thought that counts!

Menton, France, from the Sea

Our tale really begins in 2010 and it is not really about two sickly men, but about a sickly man and a sickly woman, although the man is, in fact, not really sick but considered ‘old’ (although not really that ‘old’) and it is the woman who is considered ‘sick’ (although she is in fact making a good recovery).  In 2010 Julia and I were on an extended break down in the south of France. Julia had been suffering from ME but the extended rest was doing her good and she was improving steadily. We were both looking forward to returning to ministry when we got back to Beckenham in a couple of week’s time.

We were staying nearby at Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, but we came to Menton (just along the coast) quite often. We first visited Menton to 2004 when we were on holiday near Frejus. We had long wanted to visit Menton again because we knew that it was the place where the famous Baptist Pastor, Charles Haddon Spurgeon himself, came every year (in the latter years of his life) from mid-November to early February, in order to aid his recovery from illness.  Spurgeon suffered from gout, rheumatism and Bright’s disease (which affected the kidneys) and the cold, damp and foggy London winters incapacitated him from preaching. A change of climate was therefore prescribed, so in 1871 he began his annual visits to the south of France. How wonderful to have such a supportive church that so valued their Pastor’s ministry that they were prepared to allow him extended time off in order that his ministry might be maintained. Unfortunately for us it didn’t work out the same way, and when we returned to the UK it was to discover that our ministry had been terminated.

Today is the first time that we have been back to Menton since 2010. We are looking forward to it. It will not only enable us to ‘lay a few ghosts’ but return to a place we really love. We have been to Menton several times and understand exactly why Spurgeon loved it so. If we ever came to live permanently in the south of France, Menton is most probably the place we would choose to live. Spurgeon chose Menton as his principal holiday resort, not only because he found it a charming place, but because it was the most temperate town in Europe because of its exceptional micro-climate. In winter, the lowest temperature is about 55ºF in the shade, and 72ºF in the sun.

We walk up to Nice Central Station from our apartment and, with the help of a very nice station employee, purchase our return tickets to Menton. Spurgeon, himself, would have travelled by train from Victoria Station to Dover, then by ferry to Calais, and again by train to Menton, using the services of the Christian travel agent Thomas Cook. We find our way to the appropriate platform and join the commuter crowd, most of who seem to be travelling to Monaco for work. There are various signs telling us that we need to validate the train tickets we have just bought before boarding the train. We can’t manage to get them to fit the various machines scattered around the platform that will enable us to do this, however, so Julia asks a nice railway employee what we should do to validate our tickets. He smiles at her, pats her affectionately on the head, and tells her that we are now ‘officially validated’!

When the train arrives it is a double-decker and very posh! We go upstairs so that we have a better view since the train travels right along the coast. We find ourselves sitting across from a couple of very nice young ladies who both work in Monaco. They answer all our questions about the ‘whys and wherefores’ of travelling on the French railways. We are busy taking photographs out of the train window as we pass all the amazing resorts and incredible sea views along the coast as we pass right by the Mediterranean … our two new friends ignore the views completely!? Of course, they do it every day so we guess it is not the same for them as it is for us! For us, however, this must surely be the most amazing commute to work anywhere in the world!

The train is packed with commuters, even though it is about 11.30 a.m., but most of them disembark at Monaco. We eventually arrive at Menton – the journey only takes us about 35 minutes from Nice – and after a stop for coffee, we mooch down into Menton and the beach we know and love so well. We recall all the various places we have been before – Saint John’s Church, the restaurants along by the sea front – and decide that we will have an early lunch before re-visiting the old town again. Our favourite restaurant is closed but we find another right by the beach that has an interesting menu. It is a good job that we are on holiday because the service is ‘leisurely’ to say the least. The view is wonderful, however, and the weather perfect, so we are in no hurry and just ‘go with the flow’. An interesting couple join us at an adjoining table – he is British and she is Swedish – I think I should know who they are somehow? Perhaps they too – like us – are ‘famous’?! It is very entertaining. She has a lot to say for herself, but his conversation seems to consist entirely of three words – ‘Eh?’ ‘What?’ ‘Sorry?’

After a delightful lunch we walk through the old town – re-visiting old haunts and sharing old memories – and climb up to the Chapelle de la Conception and the Basilique Saint Michel-Archange. We have been here several times before, but this time both are open and we are able to go inside. The views from here are amazing, and we take lots of photographs. We walk down the amazing staircase to the sea front. It is just along from the site of the hotel that C H Spurgeon stayed at some times – although the hotel is long gone now. Spurgeon himself, apparently, used to sunbathe on the beach in front of us?! During his sojourns in Menton, Spurgeon had free access to a wonderful garden, belonging to a Dr Bennet, and here he would relax and enjoy happy hours of conversation with friends. Spurgeon often travelled with his friend and publisher Joseph Passmore, Passmore’s business partner James Alabaster, and his personal secretary Joseph Harrald. Spurgeon would often retire to a sheltered kiosk in Dr Bennet’s garden where Harrald would read to Spurgeon a book such as The Life of Cromwell, and Spurgeon would dictate to Harrald notes for sermons and articles. On one occasion the two men were seated, hidden from view, when they overheard a conversation between an American mother and her daughter.  ‘O mother, do come here!’ said the daughter, ‘There are some lovely sickly men just here … and I do just love sickly men!’ Spurgeon and Harrald looked at one another with consternation … before realising that the young lady was in fact referring to cyclamen flowers, of course?!

We walk around the old town, recalling fond memories and recognising the various improvements that have been made since last we were here. Finally it is time to head back to the station to catch the 4.20 p.m. train to Nice. We have to rush because we love this place so much that we are dawdling. We need not have worried, however, because the 4.20 p.m. train to Nice has been cancelled … or to put it more correctly, it just didn’t bother to turn up?! This is not unusual we gather. When we ask a fellow traveller about it he just gives us the ‘Gallic shrug’!?  It is o.k. however because the 4.30 p.m. train to Cannes turns up on time … and it stops at Nice! We walk back to our apartment. Julia is so full of energy these days having made a good recovery from her ME. Hopefully when we return from the Côte d’Azur this time it will be to good news about returning to ministry for us?!

Interior of Holy Trinity Church, Nice, France

Sunday morning, and we are off to church. In fact we are planning to go twice today – to the Anglican Church this morning and then, after a rest this afternoon, to the Baptist Church this evening. Conveniently the English Speaking Baptists don’t have a morning service in Nice, and the English speaking Anglican Church doesn’t have an evening service. Holy Trinity Church is just a few blocks away, whilst Nice International Baptist Church is a bit of a hike north of here.

We are looking forward to visiting Holy Trinity. We think it was the church that played a significant part in the building of the Promenade des Anglais back in the 19^th century. It is an impressive building, set in its own grounds with a beautifully maintained graveyard, a lovely church hall with a wonderful roof terrace garden, and a lovely old Presbytery next door where the Vicar lives. The congregation are gathering as we arrive – they seem a rather posh lot – a mixture of Brits, Americans, and French (either married to Brits or Americans, or wanting to immerse themselves in all things English). We are given an ancient hymn book and an order of service booklet and find a pew two thirds of the way down the church. The building is light and airy and there are about 120 of us in the congregation … and I appear to be the second youngest?! The Service is verging towards High Church – but stopping short of ‘smells and bells’ – and there are lots of crossing oneself at various points as the Service progresses. We start 10 minutes late – but what the heck we are on ‘Nice time’!

The Service follows the order for the Sunday after Ascension Day and the whole occasion is relevant, meaningful and a delight. The Vicar has a wonderful voice, leads the worship well, prays intelligently and thoughtfully, and preaches a gripping 10 minutes sermon based on one of the set Bible readings for the day (John 17). There is no Church Choir, but there is a Cantor who leads us in all the sung responses. He looks like Friar Tuck and has the most amazing bass voice – I could listen to him sing all day long. The sung responses are all lively little tunes and we join in with gusto. We sing some hymns as well – not a ‘modern song’ in sight – beginning with my favourite hymn, F W Faber’s ‘There’s a wideness in God’s mercy’. This hymn should be sung at least once a month in every church in the UK simply for the theology alone!

We share Communion together – the Communion wine is somewhat disappointing and we wonder if they have given us the water used to wash out the Communion Cup by mistake – but it remains a precious moment for us, none-the-less. The Service concludes with the singing of Sydney Carter’s ‘Lord of the Dance’ which actually is quite appropriate on this occasion. The elderly man sitting next to us pulls a face, however, at the inclusion of such a ‘modern song’ in the Service! ‘Lord of the Dance’ was in fact written in 1963?!

After the Service we are invited to the beautiful Church Hall, with the lovely roof terrace garden, for refreshments. There is coffee and wine on offer, and we discover why the Communion wine was so poor. In good Biblical tradition – with the Story of the Wedding Feast at Cana obviously in mind – the best wine has been kept until last! We get into conversation with ‘Derek from Hull’ – he and his wife have retired to Nice and they wax eloquently about being here, and suggest that we do the same. To hear them speak it sounds wonderful … and then we learn that Derek has a 90 year old mother back in the UK, and a daughter who has cancer … so perhaps it is not quite so wonderful being so far from the UK after all?

Derek tells us that there are lots of significant and famous people who are members of the church. He points out a former Poet Laureate to us wearing a bright red blazer, and looks around for Ted Dexter the former England Cricket Captain who also worships here. He can’t see him – I suggest that perhaps he slipped out for a round of golf straight after the Service? Derek also tells us that the Vicar is about to retire – his wife is not too well at all – and they are going to live in Australia to be near their family. I wonder how quickly we can transfer to the Church of England and apply for the job?

As we take our leave we see a sign directing us to the grave of Henry Francis Lyte, the author of ‘Abide with Me’ – another well known hymn that I wish we sung more often because the words are great! As we are looking at the grave we get into conversation with another couple who have retired and have bought a place in Nice – an apartment on the sea front next to another famous Nice hotel, the Palais de la Mediterranee. They must be well off, these two because, when I looked in an Estate Agent’s window the other day, these apartments were on sale for in excess of a million Euros?!  We walk back to our somewhat cheaper rented studio apartment several blocks from the sea front – conscious that we may be ‘poor’ financially but that we are ‘rich’ in so many others ways!

After a nice rest during the afternoon we set off to visit Nice International Baptist Church. It is up somewhere past Nice Central Station, but we have a map and eventually we find it. We discover that the building actually belongs to the (French speaking) French Baptists (who use it for worship on a Sunday morning) and that the (English speaking) Nice International Baptists rent the building to use for worship on Sunday evenings. The Nice International Baptist Church also meets on a Sunday morning out in Saint Paul de Vence. Having heard a wonderful sermon this morning about the importance of being one, this arrangement seems somewhat odd to us?!

The building itself is very dated with the most uncomfortable wooden pews we have ever sat in, dismal décor with biblical texts galore painted on all the walls – loads of them – and great big old fashioned placards all round the church glorying in its past?! All this, we guess, stems from the French Baptists, and surmise that the International Baptists are not allowed to change anything. The down stairs of the church is packed when we arrive with about 60 people, virtually all of them young people! In contrast to Holy Trinity Church this morning – where I was the second youngest – I am now clearly the oldest person present. We are very impressed by the numbers of young people … until we discover that the vast majority of them are made up of two student groups visiting Nice, one from the USA and the other from Canada?! Indeed it soon becomes obvious that we are the only Brits present. The International Baptists are trying hard though. They have a screen and a data projector, a nice young guy leading the worship – all modern worship songs, not an old hymn in sight – and there is a friendly informal atmosphere.

After singing some jolly songs, and an opportunity to get to know each other through informal chat, followed by a time of ‘open prayer’, we get to the preaching! No 10 minute carefully prepared, thoughtful ‘homily’, faithful to the church year here!? The American Pastor of the Church preaches for 50 minutes, expounding Luke 17:20-37 verse by verse?! Apparently he has been going through the Gospel of Luke like this for 18 months, Sunday after Sunday? In fairness, he is quite good, although it is a little too long even for people like us who are used to sitting in lectures. It is certainly too long for most of the congregation and he loses them after the first 20 minutes. Nevertheless he carries on regardless – his philosophy appears to be ‘I’ve started, so I’ll finish!’ It is good, however, to hear preaching that actually seeks to expound the Scriptures, even if my bottom is becoming somewhat numb sitting for so long on these hard pews?! We learn that the Pastor has no plans to move on in the immediate future … so there is no good applying here then?! We decline the invitation to stay on for ‘coffee and cookies’ after the Service and start to head for home. On the way out of the church Julia has a nice conversation with a Romanian Pentecostal Christian who is also here for the first time like us. He doesn’t know if he will be back … and neither do we? I don’t think I could manage to preach a 50 minute sermon these days … and I don’t think that the Southern Baptists would go for a female Pastor either?!

Cocktails for Two

My prayers during the night have been answered! Today we were supposedly going on a major excursion to Menton, along the coast near the border with Italy. It would involve walking up to Nice Central Station, catching a train to Menton (where C H Spurgeon went regularly on vacation), spending the day walking round Menton, catching the train back to Nice again, and walking back to our apartment. My legs are already aching from all the walking we have already done around Nice itself, and in addition I have some nice blisters forming on the balls of my feet. I need to have a quiet day, and I need to make sure Julia doesn’t overdo it as well.  I lay in bed in the early hours of the morning … praying! Julia wakes up about 8.00 a.m. ‘I don’t think we will go to Menton today’ she says, ‘I think we will have a quiet day instead … and maybe go out for dinner this evening!’ Prayer answered! Praise the Lord!

We are clearing up after a lazy breakfast. Julia is shaking the breadcrumbs from the large circular place mats that come with our rented apartment. Suddenly one of them accidently slips out of her hand and goes flying over the edge of our balcony! We are six floors up? Our neighbours across the way, and ourselves, watch helplessly as the said circular place mat floats and spins majestically – just like a Frisbee – this way and that, up and down the street, before finally executing a perfect landing in a parking space between two cars! From below it must have looked like a UFO suddenly appearing over Nice! Julia rushes down in the lift to retrieve our runaway place mat before someone parks a car over it.

After a very relaxing day sunbathing on our balcony, reading, and writing, we get all dressed up and go out for the evening. Our intention is to walk down to the beach and promenade along the famous Promenade des Anglais. Before Nice was urbanized, the coast at Nice was just bordered by a deserted band of beach. The first houses were located on higher ground well away from the sea. At the start of the 19^th century, however, the English took to spending the winter in Nice, enjoying the panorama along the coast. When a particularly harsh winter in the north brought an influx of beggars to Nice, some of the rich English Anglicans proposed a useful project for them – the construction of a walkway along the sea. The city of Nice, intrigued by the prospect of a pleasant promenade, greatly increased the scope of the work and eventually it became known as the Promenade des Anglais. Today, the Promenade (which is several kilometres long) has become the place for locals and tourists to stroll, especially at weekends and during the summer vacation period, as well as a place for cyclists and roller-skaters.

On our way we call in at the very posh Negresco – one of several famous sea front hotels situated along the Promenade des Anglais. I promise Julia that I will take her there for a holiday when I have made my next £million. The doorman is turning away people who are not ‘suitably dressed’ but Julia – who is dressed extremely elegantly – is ushered in without a problem. Julia just wants to see what it is like inside, but the doorman obviously thinks she is ‘someone famous’ and (directing her towards a nice young man standing by to help) offers her ‘the services of Christophe for the evening’!?  Julia is not sure what to make of this – but having considered it for a moment longer than I think she should have – declines the offer, and beats a hasty retreat.

We cross the busy main road that separates the hotels and restaurants from the Promenade des Anglais and the beach, and join all the others parading along the Promenade. There are scores of people enjoying the beautiful warm sunshine. I suddenly remember why the French took another day off this week – in addition to Victory in Europe Day on Wednesday – it was Ascension Day on Thursday, and another ‘bank holiday’ day for the French. How strange that secular France should observe one of the major dates in the Christian Calendar this way, whereas we in the UK ignore it (even in many churches, so it would seem)? Being French, however, means that lots of people have taken Friday off as well, and (with the weekend) made an extra five day holiday for themselves. According to today’s Times newspaper, the French are in considerable financial debt because of their addiction to this ‘religion of relaxation’ which means that ‘Monsieur Average’ somehow manages to contrive at least eight weeks holiday per annum?!  According to the Times, Paris is virtually empty and everyone in France has come to the Côte d’Azur! This is obviously why there are so many people strolling in the sunshine on the Promenade des Anglais!

We stop off at one of the beach restaurants for a cocktail … Julia doesn’t want to wait for her actual birthday ‘day’ and tells me that the whole ten days we are here is in fact her ‘birthday’! It is very posh and we sit in some nice chairs right by the beach. I decide I have had enough ‘Sex on the Beach’ to last a life time and order a ‘Mojito’ – an interesting blend of mint, lime, rum etc. It is very nice but not really worth what I pay for it. Julia has gone off the idea of a cocktail and settles for a Campari instead. The service is atrocious and we wait ages to be served. We do have a nice chat to a group of Asian girls from north London, in the meantime, who are also here to celebrate a significant birthday for one of them!

We eventually find our way to the Cours Saleya – the famous flower and vegetable market of picturesque old Nice that somehow transforms itself into a marvellous restaurant area come early evening. We find a nice Fish Restaurant and order our dinner – oysters to start for me and gallons of fish soup for Julia, followed by monk fish and snapper for us both, and a wonderful panna cotta to conclude – all washed down by a carafe of white wine. We are joined by a nice Dutch couple on the adjoining table who are greeted in Dutch by the maître d. ‘What did he say to you?’ we ask. ‘We haven’t got a clue’ they reply, ‘his Dutch was dreadful!’ The meal is excellent however, all the restaurants are packed, the atmosphere is wonderful with lots of music and conversation, and we enjoy a wonderful evening. We pay the bill and stroll back to our apartment along the Promenade des Anglais.

The Creation

We are on our way to the Musée Marc Chagall! The power in our apartment has been fixed with Joel’s help – I only needed to push a button after all. Both dinner last night, and breakfast this morning, have been cooked and consumed and we are on our way. The Musée Marc Chagall (or the National Museum or the Chagall Biblical Message, as it is sometimes also know) is a national museum dedicated to the work of the artist Marc Chagall – essentially his works inspired by religion – located here in Nice about 25 minutes walk from our apartment. Chagall is an intriguing character, and one of our favourite artists, associated with several major styles and mediums. Born into a Jewish family in Russia in 1887, he became a naturalized French citizen in 1937. He died in 1985 at nearby Saint Paul de Vence (where he had lived and worked for many years) and is buried in the Roman Catholic cemetery at Saint Paul de Vence under a gravestone reputedly made in the shape of a cross. One of the main reasons why we came to Nice for Julia’s birthday this year was to visit this museum because we have heard so many good things about it.

Julia has her map – we left Jane our SatNav at home – and she thinks she knows where we are going?  It is just down the road, past the station, under the motorway, round the corner, and up the hill! Julia also wants to visit the Information Bureau by the station to get information about trains and buses. She has train trips planned for us, to both Menton (where the famous Baptist preacher C H Spurgeon used to retreat for several weeks each year), and also to Cannes (where the famous Film Festival is about to begin). She also has plans to visit other museums and art galleries that require bus trips to get to. We find the Information Bureau and join the queue to see one of the assistants. Just as one becomes free, a rather stocky German woman pushes past us and heads for the counter? Julia remonstrates with her and tells her to wait her turn in the queue like the rest of us. ‘I’m in a hurry!’ the German woman responds tartly, and just carries on. I look to see if she had left a beach towel on the counter earlier in the day to reserve her place?

After Julia has finally got all the information we need, we continue our walk to the Musée Marc Chagall. The route is more complicated than we first thought. Whichever way Julia turns the map – and she tries various ways – we still don’t know which way to go?! We stop a couple who are passing by at the time, who we think are French, and ask the way. It turns out that they are Romanian and only speak Romanian and German, whilst we only speak English and a bit of French?! Despite the fact that none of us can speak the same language we get on famously. We gather that they are visitors to France but that they actually live here – we get the impression that they are immigrants from Romania – and that they live near the Musée Marc Chagall. They walk along with us and literally show us the way – such kind thoughtful people!

The Musée Marc Chagall is quite amazing! Built in 1972 (during Chagall’s lifetime), it is built partly in glass and hidden among the trees on a hilltop. The setting was designed especially to house Chagall’s ‘Biblical Message’ – a series of seventeen paintings illustrating scenes from the Biblical books of Genesis, Exodus, and the Song of Songs (the latter dedicated to his wife). The ‘Biblical Message’ canvases are shown to their best advantage as a result of the recessed walls and the large windows opening on to the bright Mediterranean light. Chagall himself provided detailed instructions about the creation of the surrounding garden, and decided the place of each of his works in the museum. The chronological order of the works is not followed, but the twelve paintings in the large gallery evoke the Creation of Man, the Garden of Eden, the Story of Noah, Abraham, Jacob and Moses. The paintings themselves are quite wonderful. As our guidebook says, ‘Among Chagall’s world of rich translucent colours lays a magic spell of poetic enchantment which yet does not detract from the seriousness of the subject matter’. In addition, Chagall also created the mosaic which overlooks the pond and the blue stained glasses that decorate the concert hall – where we watch a wonderful film about his life! Chagall also wanted an annual exhibition to be held on a topic related to the spiritual and religious history of the world but there is no information available to confirm whether or not this actually takes place.

We spend ages looking at these wonderful paintings, trying to take in the various hidden meanings. We are aided in our task by an excellent recorded commentary that we listen to via headphones. Chagall was originally a Hasidic Jew, and the Musée Marc Chagall was built with Jewish money, so the commentary on his paintings emphasises his Jewishness and his support for Jewish causes down through the years. It also attempts to explain away the various Christian symbols – Christ on the Cross, the Virgin Mary and Child – that repeatedly appear in these paintings. Thus Christ on the Cross symbolises the suffering of the Jews down through the ages, and the Virgin Mary and Child symbolises motherhood and fertility (and even on one occasion how badly Christians have treated the Jews). We, however, continually find other meanings in Chagall’s ‘Biblical Message’ that cannot be explained away so easily – the obvious link between the sacrifice of Isaac and the Cross of Christ, or the Exodus story and the spiritual freedom and deliverance that comes through the Cross, for example? We cannot help but wonder if, in fact, Chagall – despite his reticence to speak about his religious beliefs, other than that he believed – had in fact come to believe in Jesus Christ as the Messiah. Was he in fact some kind of early ‘Messianic Jew’? After all a good number of his paintings and stained glass windows were designed to be housed in Christian Churches!

We return home to our apartment thoroughly inspired after a truly wonderful day, and a most enlightening experience. In fact, I am so inspired that later on in the evening, after dinner, I thoroughly thrash Julia at Scrabble – two ‘seven letter words’ in one game would you believe! And thrashing Julia at Scrabble doesn’t happen very often let me tell you!