Cologne
Once upon a time, long ago, a star came traveling on its makers orders to catch the attention of a wise man, or two, or three, somewhere in Persia. Driven by this astrological phenomenon and an inner conviction that the world was about to change, the wise man traveled far and long to find a baby king. Kneeling at his feet in a borrowed house, they presented rare and beautiful gifts – gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Driven again, they returned to their lands, and history blessed them with names, legends and mystery.
Centuries later, their bones were taken from Constantinople, and from there to Milan, and later from there to Cologne. The bones were placed in a wooden casket, and later in a magnificent golden reliquary – the biggest in the Western world. They reside now in one of Europe’s most magnificent cathedrals – soaring some 157m into the air above casket and bones. It has stood proud over the city through thick and thin – its walls still blackened today by the bombing and firestorms which destroyed much of the surrounding area. If you look carefully in the photograph below, taken on Saturday morning, you will see the reliquary as a glint of gold in the soaring vastness of the cathedral.
Today people still come, for all sorts of reasons. They travel further than the wise men ever traveled in a fraction of the time. They travel in comfort and gambol on the cathedral steps. Just a few hours after the photo was taken, the steps were thronged with tourists of every description. A hen party in matching black t-shirts and flourescent pink wigs sat drinking whilst the loud star of of a stag weekend was busy inflating a sex doll to cheers of raucous encouragement. I wonder if the wise men would turn in their magnificent golden grave?
Meanwhile, just a few hundred metres away, a pilgrimage of a different kind is taking place. Lovers from all over the world come to pledge their love to each other by placing a padlock on the bridge over the Rhine and then throwing the keys into the waters below. Often they will come back years later from other countries and continents to see if the symbol of their love still endures. Which is the truer pilgrimage, I wonder?
