France: Cluny, Taize, Vezelay

Cluny
South of Dijon, in the Loire Valley (and Cotes d'Or) sits the little village of Cluny. Dating back to the 10th century an Abby was built here with a Cathedral as large (perhaps larger) than St. Peter's in Rome. Huge. Much of it is gone, but ruins remain - and a museum is there. One of the transcepts is left, and entering that gives one the scope of the immense size of this place. Astounding. It's also a charming village.

I heard in my head many times over that day the line from "O God Our Help in Ages Past" which says: "A thousand ages in thy sight are like an evening gone." Truly - bone chilling to imagine something in use so long ago as this - again, we are mere bleaps in time in the grand picture.

I bought a CD of Gregorian Chant from the museum to play in the car for the rest of this two day jaunt.

Oh, and yes: along the way some astounding wine tasting in Nuit St. Georges - one of the central areas producing some of the finest Pinor Noir in the world. It was like silk, and chocolate! But again, since it was off-season, I never had company in any of these vintners shops, and they all had to open a new bottle for me. EEEk.

TAIZE
Just outside of Cluny is Taize - an international retreat center known for its short refrain-mantra-type songs, and spiritually deep prayer services. People come from all over the world to this place, but I witnessed mostly Europeans. It stuck me very much like an international version of Holden Village.

I attended an Evening Prayer service. Beautiful setting, even if it was temporary, since they were doing some work on their main chapel. Candles, plants, icons, kneeling people all over - very spiritual-mindset inducing.

It's interesting for me to ponder: these counter-culture places with their expressions spring up, and young people flock to them. But it becomes a culture itself, full of its own ritual, expectations, it's own memory and as a result an unintentional insider/outsider culture develops. Even the room had an "inner santcum" where the the Brothers of the order entered (through their own door) and prayed - with a fence of plants around them, and the rest of on the outside of that area. Throughout the liturgy, most there seemed to know what to do, and knew all the songs. I did not, even though I am familiar with a lot of their songs.

While this sounds like I'm suggesting this is a bad thing, it's not. What goes on here, and eminated from here has touched thousands upon thousands of worshippers and seekers. Their songs are now included in most denominational hymnals. The culturization is an inevitable thing, and pieces of it become part of the larger picture in the story of God's people at worship.

I couldn't do much, though. The songs were unfamiliar and too complicated for me to pick up (except one). I couldn't understand much either, even though once and a while I'd hear English.. The accompaniment was of all things: an electronic keybord, immitating a lute. Ick.

I guess I'm no longer in a personal space to resonate to this kind of experience. But I am glad I was there. We sing their music - I like to go to the origins when possible!

Vezelay
A bit north again, I took the tiniest roads I could find - and happened upon the most stunning views and sights as I wound my way through the mountains to Vezelay.

This is another site of a 10th century abby - Benedictines. There, stands at the very top of a mountain, a basilica - an absolutely huge basilica and convent/monestary. Still in use. It's another one-road town, climbing up the last part of the hill to the basilica, with tiny shops and restaurants. Absolutely charming. I got a room, and walked up the hill.

Serendipity strikes again: the bells toll, because the monks and sisters do Vespers at 6. I went, as did about 8 other tourists. It was stunningly beautiful. First of all, I was about 15 minutes early, and witnessed already many sisters and monks sitting in total silence. At the hour, they all stood and sang from memory. A leader chanting, then all in four parts! And I could understand exactly what they were singing - in part because of the language, but also because they followed the historic order - and I knew which canticles were sung, and when. We had a psalm book, and they simply said the number - we could do that too. I was completely struck by its beauty, reverence, importance, and the sounds of this very solid four part chanting. Kind of like French/Catholic Byzantine style. But I was fully drawn into the prayer service.

Now back to Paris for the flight home. I ready for that. My tongue and brain hurt from trying to speak and understand this language. But it get better the more I do it, but it will be nice to not have to work so hard in communicating. It really does make one feel unintelligent!