A Hen in the Fox House 

I had a friend, Hope, visit me from Naples a few weeks ago. She was in town for a conference, and spent the weekends on either side of the conference with me. On the Sunday after she arrived, we decided to take a quick trip to Cologne to see the cathedral and meander around the city.
 

 

Cologne is a true jewel of a city here in Germany. Unlike Frankfurt, which was also heavily bombed during WWII, Cologne managed to reconstruct the majority of the old city using the original pieces of the buildings that were bombed. At the heart of the city is the Dom- the cathedral. This was the tallest church in the world until very recent times, and was in fact the tallest building in the world until the construction of the Washington Monument was completed.
 

There is a huge plaza in front of the cathedral, and there are always war protesters, street artists, and skater kids competing for space and attention. With the dark, ominous church in the background, the effect is awsome. 

After a quick tour of the church, Hope and I climbed the spire. We stopped and had a look at the bells (which chimed the 3/4 hour while we were standing there), and then made our way to the top of the spire. While walking around at the top of the city, the bells rang the full hour- about 10 minutes of song. I can't describe the effect of standing over this ancient city, at the peak of this monument of a church, and hearing the giant bells. It's the kind of thing that makes life's problems seem very insignificant. 

 

After we made our way down the tower, we decided to attend a mass. It seemed like a good culminating event to the experience. After finding a pew and settling in, I told hope "I won't take communion- I haven't been to confession in over a decade." I said this to reassure Hope, a non-Catholic, that I wasn't going to leave her alone in the pew looking like a sinner while I went to receive the gift of Christ. Hope's reply was "Confess now." I explained that I really couldn't do that- that Catholics were supposed to use the intercession of a priest to... to do something... but I wasn't really sure what. Hope whispered, "Chuck, don't you think you can talk directly to God? Don't you think that you personally can ask for God's forgiveness and He will give it? I'll make a deal. We'll confess our sins right here and now, and then I'll take communion with you." 

It was classic peer pressure. In the moment I was 12 years old and she was a classmate that was exercising the power of "the cool kid" to make me do things I wasn't suppose to do. But in this situation, we weren't just talking about stealing a car and going for a joyride, we were playing with God... And the CHURCH! I looked up at the altar. There was an assembly of men of the cloth, with coordinating outfits. One of them was decidedly more decked out than the rest. "Great," I thought. "A bishop." An image of the holy man sensing my sin and blasting me to hell with lightning bolts from his fingertips crossed my imagination. But I guess I realized a fate worse than hell would be to be mocked and made fun of as a "God Boy" or something, and I finally nodded my head in nervous agreement and dropped to my knees to pray for forgiveness of the sins I had committed and the the ones I was about to commit. The kneelers were not padded (standard in Europe). As I kneeled there in agony I convinced myself that these were actually "Kneelers of atonement." And that like the ascetic sects of years past, I was actually paying for my sins through pain of flesh. 

Throughout the mass, I was nervous about my deal with this... protestant... and having difficulty following the German service. Just immediately prior to the point where the collection plate was passed, an elderly woman collapsed in the second row of pews. Immediately, a gaggle of men who did not "know" women surrounded her. Seconds after, a paramedic arrived and hauled her off. During this whole exhibition of mortatlity the priest never stopped the service. I'm not even sure he noticed. As the paramedic was working with the woman, the deacons passed the collection plate over her body! These people were serious about not dealing with interruptions. 

Finally the moment came, and I entered the aisle with Hope behind me. I told her to hold out her hands, and to say "Amen" when the priest gave her the Host. We approached the communion rail and immediately to my left were two Asian men. When the priest approached them, I heard him ask "Are you Catholic?" The first man looked at him with surprise. "He pronounced it in German "Cat-o-lik?" No response. Finally a suspicious look came over the priests face and he made the "no-no" sign with his index finger and walked away. As he came over to me, I could feel the beads of sweat on my forehead... I knew he knew... He knew I knew he knew... He looked at me with a firm eye. I looked at him with guilt. A single split second before I blurted out "I haven't been to confession since the early nineties, and she's a protestant!" he put the wafer in my hand. I made the sign of the cross and went back to the pew to pray and hyperventilate. 

 

Following the mass, Hope and I decided to stop in the town square to watch the people and have a glass of wine. Soon after the drinks came to our table, Hope looked serious and said "Chuck, I have something to tell you." I looked at her with concern. "I am a Lutheran." 

That's right... The same Lutherans who so long ago desecrated God's plan and started the inevitable decline of civilization. The same Lutherans who nailed propaganda to church doors. I had lead one into the very midst of God and allowed her to use her charms to lead me astray. I think I'm going to buy a wooden kneeler just to keep around the house.