Normally, I am not religious. And I would certainly not call myself Christian.
But on a day when people are suddenly so pleasant to one another and when peace and hope seems to reign everywhere, if only for a day, or a fleeting moment, I attend mass with the masses. Haulicinents loose their effect on me fast, and for many others even faster.
The night was dark, bitter and shrouded in mist, and not a person was in sight on the streets of Strasbourg. It seemed like all the lovely lights and decorations were for me to enjoy, as I walked the almost half-an-hour journey towards Cathedrale de Notre Dame. The trams have long since stopped, as people hurried home earlier to enjoy the warmth of celebrations and loved ones however they can. After a (ful)filling dinner of goose pate, freshly-made tomato-garlic soup, rat-atouille, roasted duck and little pancakes with my friend and my godson, Aslan, I needed the long walk to the Cathedrale to walk off the calories.
As soon as I walked out the door, I could feel the cold hug my face. Thankfully, just yesterday I had bought a cosy hat at the Christmas market from a Quebequois who told me he happens to study at the very university I am hoping to go to, hopefully, soon. Or perhaps there are no coincidences, especially on Christmas Eve.
Il est ne, le divin enfant
Jouez, hautbois, resonnez, musettes!
Il est ne, le divin enfant
Chantons tous son avenement!
It is good to remind yourself the meaning of Christmas. And it is even better to realise that behind the lure of capitalist consumerism, beyond the shining wrapping paper and ribbons, and away from the hordes of stressed shoppers, that I have unfortunately also become part of at times, there is a deeper reason why this season is so specially seen and celebrated around the world (or at least a large portion of it). Indeed, if you were to sum up the two-hour ceremony praising the Lord, exhalting the sacrifice of He who died for our sins, and emphasising the chastity of the Virgin Mary, it is that peace, brotherhood and love for one another is what binds us around the world, in a world that is too often torn by conflict, hatred and divided between 'you' and 'me'. Temporarily, in the hall of Strasbourg Cathedrale, and in the depths of many churches, chapels and cathedrales the world over, people are united, for one day in a year, in prayer. Temporarily, people forget all the colours, the races and religions, and reach out to their neighbours, as the priest told us to shake the hands of our neighbours and wish them well.
O du froliche, o du selige,
genadevrubgebde Weihnachtszeit!
I stood in the crowd, as the Archbishop of Strasbourg waved his staff and preached to his flock below. Unique to its history and location, this is perhaps the only place where hymns are sung in two of the local languages, German and French.
A beautiful combination of languages and culture, united in song and music, and a symbol of how faith and soothing voices know no barriers. The old, the young, a crying baby next to an annoyed devout Christian deep in prayer and the restless little boy who seemed to have been dragged to Midnight Mass, we all huddled together with curious tourists and flashing cameras in the great big hall of one of Europe's most impressive cathedrals.
I stood there, awed by the sheer size of the structure, surrounded by massive red Alsatian limestone pillars and by hymns that I hummed along to at times. Now and then, I could pick up the odd words and sentences from the priest's sermon to decipher what was being said, as the crowd occassionally answered in unison with a low echoing 'Amen'. It was hard to imagine that there I was, standing in the hallowed bowls of gigantic tribute to Catholicism that took countless manpower and resources as well as more than 4 centuries to complete. In a darkened corner of the Cathedral, where the Nativity scene is recreated with wooden puppets and a bed of hay, one is ironically reminded that Christ the devine and graceful Child was born in a humble stable alongside sheep and donkeys. The cathedral bells rang, and the organs sang, the children prayed, and the crowd was blessed, as wooden baskets were passed around, chiming. Amen.
But on a day when people are suddenly so pleasant to one another and when peace and hope seems to reign everywhere, if only for a day, or a fleeting moment, I attend mass with the masses. Haulicinents loose their effect on me fast, and for many others even faster.
The night was dark, bitter and shrouded in mist, and not a person was in sight on the streets of Strasbourg. It seemed like all the lovely lights and decorations were for me to enjoy, as I walked the almost half-an-hour journey towards Cathedrale de Notre Dame. The trams have long since stopped, as people hurried home earlier to enjoy the warmth of celebrations and loved ones however they can. After a (ful)filling dinner of goose pate, freshly-made tomato-garlic soup, rat-atouille, roasted duck and little pancakes with my friend and my godson, Aslan, I needed the long walk to the Cathedrale to walk off the calories.
As soon as I walked out the door, I could feel the cold hug my face. Thankfully, just yesterday I had bought a cosy hat at the Christmas market from a Quebequois who told me he happens to study at the very university I am hoping to go to, hopefully, soon. Or perhaps there are no coincidences, especially on Christmas Eve.
Il est ne, le divin enfant
Jouez, hautbois, resonnez, musettes!
Il est ne, le divin enfant
Chantons tous son avenement!
It is good to remind yourself the meaning of Christmas. And it is even better to realise that behind the lure of capitalist consumerism, beyond the shining wrapping paper and ribbons, and away from the hordes of stressed shoppers, that I have unfortunately also become part of at times, there is a deeper reason why this season is so specially seen and celebrated around the world (or at least a large portion of it). Indeed, if you were to sum up the two-hour ceremony praising the Lord, exhalting the sacrifice of He who died for our sins, and emphasising the chastity of the Virgin Mary, it is that peace, brotherhood and love for one another is what binds us around the world, in a world that is too often torn by conflict, hatred and divided between 'you' and 'me'. Temporarily, in the hall of Strasbourg Cathedrale, and in the depths of many churches, chapels and cathedrales the world over, people are united, for one day in a year, in prayer. Temporarily, people forget all the colours, the races and religions, and reach out to their neighbours, as the priest told us to shake the hands of our neighbours and wish them well.
O du froliche, o du selige,
genadevrubgebde Weihnachtszeit!
I stood in the crowd, as the Archbishop of Strasbourg waved his staff and preached to his flock below. Unique to its history and location, this is perhaps the only place where hymns are sung in two of the local languages, German and French.
Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht... Tout s'endort au dehors.
Nur das traute, hochheilige Paar, holder Knube im lokkigen Haar,
Au ciel l'astre luit, Au ciel, l'astre luit...
A beautiful combination of languages and culture, united in song and music, and a symbol of how faith and soothing voices know no barriers. The old, the young, a crying baby next to an annoyed devout Christian deep in prayer and the restless little boy who seemed to have been dragged to Midnight Mass, we all huddled together with curious tourists and flashing cameras in the great big hall of one of Europe's most impressive cathedrals.
I stood there, awed by the sheer size of the structure, surrounded by massive red Alsatian limestone pillars and by hymns that I hummed along to at times. Now and then, I could pick up the odd words and sentences from the priest's sermon to decipher what was being said, as the crowd occassionally answered in unison with a low echoing 'Amen'. It was hard to imagine that there I was, standing in the hallowed bowls of gigantic tribute to Catholicism that took countless manpower and resources as well as more than 4 centuries to complete. In a darkened corner of the Cathedral, where the Nativity scene is recreated with wooden puppets and a bed of hay, one is ironically reminded that Christ the devine and graceful Child was born in a humble stable alongside sheep and donkeys. The cathedral bells rang, and the organs sang, the children prayed, and the crowd was blessed, as wooden baskets were passed around, chiming. Amen.
Gloria in excelsis Deo,
Gloria in excelsis Deo!
I lit a candle, and made a wish. A simple wusg ne that I make every year, and one that will most likely be made every year to come.
May there be peace on Earth...
May all beings be free from all hatred and suffering.
