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April 1999
Dear Friends,
The Lenten season began very much as usual for me in Eastern
Europe. The English-speaking community of the college gathered
with many of the same messages and music that are traditionally
my experience. Easter eggs—wooden and real, blown and solid,
colored by wax and dye, linden fibers and paint—were more
prevalent and significant. I learned an Easter egg game related
to abundant life signified by two persons cracking eggs together,
with the owner of the victorious egg winning the broken one as
a symbol of life abundant. But the differences seemed insignificant,
even unrelated to the glorious story of resurrection. All this
was until the trip I took with a group of North American college
staff on Easter weekend.
On Holy Saturday we set out in a bus for a site twelve kilometers
from the town of Siauliai, Lithuania. Here in the open fields
is an awe-inspiring monument to faith. The place is called the
Hill of Crosses or Hill of Prayers. The 10-meter high hill is
covered with many thousands of crosses. The first mention of the
crosses on the hill dates back to 1850. Many of the crosses there
now have been placed in memory of those deported to Siberia. During
the Soviet era, the crosses were repeatedly bulldozed, but always
mysteriously reappeared. Pope John Paul II visited the Hill of
Crosses on October 7, 1993. One year later his present arrived:
a crucifix inscribed "‘Ave, Crux!’—Oh, Cross,
you are not the symbol of sorrow or death, but the sign of Faith,
Love, Hope and Sacrifice!" As far as I could see stretched
crosses, even at the foot of the hill. Paths wind through the
masses of tiny and gigantic crosses—wooden, glass, textile,
metal crosses, symbols of the prayers of those who have had to
fight to keep faith alive. To a person who has never been denied
faith or experienced oppression, this was an incredibly moving
experience, and I went off by myself to study inscriptions and
think about the lives represented by this monument.
On Easter I attended an ecumenical English-language church service
in Riga, Latvia. The church, Saint Saviours, commissioned by British
traders living in Riga, was built in 1857 on a shipload of British
soil specially imported from the U.K. Consecrated in 1859, the
church was only full when British warships visited Latvia. Like
many of the churches I have visited in the Baltics, the Soviets
transformed them for secular use. This one was a student disco
during Soviet times. The slow recovery and renovation of these
churches is evident and a reminder of the struggle for the recovery
of the church in the region. The service was renewing and refreshing,
especially standing in a semicircle and down the aisles with Christians
from many places in the world gathered in this little church to
commemorate the great victory of Easter.
Perhaps most moving for me, however, was a little drama performed
after the service. The Latvian children who are part of the church’s
day shelter enacted the Easter story. I was touched by the words
of the pastor that for these children, age about four to twelve,
this was the first time they had heard the story. In their simple
costumes with simple set and props they presented the story with
joy. It did not matter that they spoke in a language that I did
not understand; they shared an understanding of the great story
with me that I will never forget.
Later in Lithuania I was recounting this story to a 20-year-old
college student, her mother and 16-year-old brother. The student
replied, "But Jackie, I was sixteen when I first heard the
story. My mother received a Bible for the first time when I was
sixteen from a person who had taught at Lithuania Christian College.
Before that time what my mother knew of the story of Christ she
knew from her study of art." God at work here is a wonderful
thing. You and I are certainly privileged to play a little part
in the great miracle of church renewal.
Thanks for your support and prayers,
Jackie Bartz
The 1999 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 86
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