Taizé: A Solo Spiritual Pilgrimage

I wrote this post with the last one, an introduction to Taizé, in mind.  This post will make more sense if read after the previous post.

My first hope in trying to take full advantage of my "responsibility-free" time at Taizé was to stay and sing at the morning, mid-day, and evening prayer sessions as long as songs continued to echo through the Church of Reconciliation.  Nothing was scheduled after evening prayers, so people stayed singing in the church until at least midnight, which I actually only know from hearsay.  I forced myself to pull away from the peaceful harmonies around 10:30 each night to be rested for the following day.  As for morning and midday prayers, I quickly learned that lingering too long after the brothers filed out meant missing a meal!  I missed a couple meals during the week, but it just wasn't such a big deal since I wasn't responsible for any hungry children.  I just waited for the next meal without any cryin' or sufferin'!

Hey great, Taizé has a playground!...

You know... in case anyone needs one...

I became very aware of the ease of caring for one healthy adult body rather than the two smaller bodies of my more vulnerable, not-so-flexible human extensions.  But at the same time, oh how I missed them!  For a couple days it was kind of giggly fun to be on my own, then it was sad for a couple days, followed by a couple more days of very sad.  Then I realized I was tired of my freedoms; I wanted to be with my family again!

Despite the growing longing for my sweet people, I managed to make some friends.  At 10am each morning, the adults met in bible study groups.  My age group, the 25- to 35-year-olds, was led by Brother Paolo, who spoke to us in English with a German interpreter.  Nearly everything was interpreted into German while I was at Taizé, and if someone spoke to me, they most often began in German until they realized I didn't know what they were saying.  I had brought along a French/English pocket dictionary, which I hardly referenced, but I couldn't have guessed how often I would wish for a German/English dictionary!  It turns out that the two southernmost German states were on school holiday for two weeks.  The wide, vast majority at Taizé that week were from Germany, and the wide, vast majority of Germans were teenagers.  My bible study group of 25- to 35-year-olds only numbered around 80 of the 3,000 present.

My discussion group!  From left to right: Carola (German) and Tobias (German), Nadja (German), me, Sofia (German), Peter (American), Leon (Indian).

Brother Paolo was a light-hearted, pleasant man who shared an ad-lib, half-hour lecture with us each morning, mixing together biblical culture and history, jokes, and outside-the-box ideas springboarding from the pre-determined scripture of the day.  Then we broke into groups of eight-ish to get to know each other and discuss any thoughts or ideas we had about the scripture or lecture.  My group consisted of four Germans and two Americans regularly meeting, with three more from each of Scotland, Senegal, and India attending when they could, since not everyone was able to stay the whole week.

I enjoyed my group meeting times and those of us that could eventually began sharing meals together as well.  As Americans and Germans, we all bonded over how "skimpy" the traditonal French breakfasts were.  On our meal trays each morning, we received the same meal advertised in the window of the Parisian restaurants: a miniature baguette, a pat of butter, and a jelly packet... yep, that's it, besides a small variety of hot drinks to choose from.  Halfway through the week I befriended two Latina women - originally from Venezuela and Colombia, currently living and working in Barcelona - who added substance to the less-than-impressive breakfast with nothing other than a couple of chorizos. :)  Taizé is a wonderful, peaceful place to mix various world cultures see what happens.

Every person at Taizé is expected to pitch in with a small job: serving at a meal or cleaning up afterward, helping welcome newcomers, checking bags at the church entrance, etc.  At the beginning of the week, I appeared at the proper time and place for my age group's job sign-up and the woman - who I think was organizing the work as part of her own volunteer job - suggested, "How about crowd control for prayers?"  I hadn't the faintest idea what that would entail, and instinctively replied, "Sure."  But my heart sank as she wrote my name on the line and told me when and where to meet for the 20 minute training.  I had come to Taizé for the prayers, with nothing to distract me for the first time in over five and a half years, and now would I have to be distracted by shushing the crowds?  Things are often not as bad as they seem, so I decided to wait and see what I'd learn at the training.

One of the main entrances to the Church of Reconciliation, just before mid-day prayers.  My "SILENCE" sign wasn't nearly as big as the one pictured here, which is the first reminder to transition from the loud, sunny day outside to the quiet, meditative experience inside.

My job turned out to be a simple protest of sound for 30 minutes before the morning worship began.  As people entered the church, I was to unabashedly stroll around, holding a sign gruffly proclaiming "SILENCE", the bold black letters standing out stark and serious on a white background.  Once the first song began, I could sit down amongst those whose noise I had picketed and be present for the entirety of the service.  There were teams of six or so people for each prayer time, so I was free to arrive early to read or meditate before mid-day and evening prayers.

During my shift, as my quiet comrades and I walked the paths between the increasing populations filling the church, I found myself wishing my sign was a bit friendlier.  Why not, "Welcome!  Don't forget, SILENCE."?  I tried to make up for it by smiling at people if our eyes met.  They'd usually respond with amused smiles or nods, or by amiably mouthing "Bonjour" or "Guten Tag".  I tried to choose a sign that said "silence" rather than "SILENCE" each morning, to be at least a little bit gentler.  Unfortunately, some of the "silence" signs also had the words "please leave the church" gently written on the back... which I couldn't imagine flashing at someone and didn't really want the option.  Even smiling wouldn't make that message feel friendly, which turns out to be another funny cultural additive.  It seems that the French and Germans are not bothered by such frankness, but my innate American-ness balks at the idea of not being "nice" all the time.

Most days I was posted near one of the main entrance doors.  I often imagined that each person who entered was Jesus, to pass the time.  Sometimes Jesus appeared to have showered and done his hair up, and sometimes Jesus appeared to have just gotten out of bed.  Sometimes Jesus paused to wait for a friend and sometimes he came running in to keep up with his parents.  Sometimes Jesus stopped to take off his shoes.  Sometimes he tripped on the carpet.  Once, Jesus accidently knocked the doorstop out and the door creak-screamed shut... then his wide, troubled eyes immediately darted to meet mine, as I was the closest defender of tranquility, proclaimer of "SILENCE".  So, naturally, I brought down justice by jokingly pretending to glare and shush him.  Jesus sometimes choose to sit in the back with his friends and sneakily peek at his cell phone.  Every now and then, Jesus had forgotten his songbook and returned to the entrance to find a copy.  At Taizé, Jesus was tall and short and old and young and mindful and aloof.

Monday through Saturday, we had a selection of workshops at 3pm and 5:30pm, many led by the brothers at Taizé.  For the 5:30pm workshop block on Thursday, we broke out by countries so we could meet any of that week's visitors from our own homelands.  I noticed that the multitude from Germany met in the church cavern itself.  Those from the United States met in a much smaller room, and we numbered no more than 30.  We were led by Brother Emmanuel, who wasn't American himself, but has made many trips to the US to speak about a book he wrote.  After going around the room with introductions, people began to ask him to share how he came to Taizé and what his book was about.

After joining Taizé in his early 20s, Brother Emmanuel finished the five-year-long novitiate period, including in-depth theological studies, that Taizé requires for new members.  He then decided to further his studies in psycology at a French university, working remotely from Taizé.  When he finished his degree, he was invited to join a research project exploring faith through the lens of psycology.  His book was born out of this research, focusing on dismantling the wrong ideas and images we project on God, whether consciously or unconsciously, that confuse us and create barriers to either loving God or believing that we are loved by God.  It is inevitable to have some form of unconscious projections, but by becoming aware of them we can overcome them!

As Brother Emmanuel described his research and book, I couldn't stop myself from weeping, which was embarassing at the time but now here I am writing about it on the world wide web.  I had felt like crying several times during the week, but I was always in a crowd.  I thought I could just wait to cry, and I tried to hold the tears back until I was "safe" in the privacy of my own tent, but of course that never works.  By the time I got to my solitary hide-away, I didn't feel like crying anymore.  So I'd unintentionally saved up enough tears that when Brother Emmanuel calmly and confidently presented his perspective-shifting research, I could only weep.  If anyone in the room was aware of my emotion, they did a really good job pretending not to notice.  I peeked around the semi-circle at one point, kind of hoping I wasn't the only one dabbing my eyes as inconspicuously as possible.  While everyone else seemed interested in what Brother Emmanuel was saying, no one else was moved to weeping.  I wanted to run away and hide, but I couldn't stop listening!  I stayed back after everyone left to ask him if everything he shared with us was in his book, because if so, I had plans to buy it as soon as possible.  "Yes, and with more detail," he answered me.

Brother Emmanuel told us that the book was originally written in French, titled Un Amour Méconnu.  When it was translated to English, the publisher had chosen a title he wasn't thrilled with as it wasn't quite as poetic, harkening to the depth of the mystery of God's love.  "Méconnu" translates to unrecognized, overlooked, or disregarded, as in something that is real and present, but goes unnoticed.  It is found in the French phrases "potentiel méconnu" and "héros méconnu", hidden potential and unsung hero, respectively.  I see why the English title, Love, Imperfectly Known, was chosen, and I see how it doesn't have quite the same meaning.

The next time the Taizé store was open, I purchased my very own copy so I could read as much as possible before returning to "real life".  As I began to read, I realized that I needed to re-read each paragraph a number of times to grasp the psycology vocabulary, which I have no experience with beyond a GPSYCH class I didn't take advantage of 10 years ago.  Even so, since the 192-page book is broken into short chapters of only a few pages each, and the message so intriguing, it was easy to get through.

As I read, I kept finding myself on the precipice of faith: What if I believe that God really is love?  What would happen if I believe that God can only love?  How would a God that is love develop a being that could truely and deeply love in return?  What if the only way for a being capable of reciprocating love to exist required all the known elements of the periodic table exploding and imploding around in an ever expanding universe?  What if I believe that a loving God would've done it differently if there was a better way?  What if God, in order to fully embody love, not only gave human beings the capability to choose good or evil, but also granted free will to every being and particle that exists, down to matter itself?  What if I allow myself to believe that I am a bundle of miracles and I am worthy of being loved by God and other humans?

God is love!  God can only love!  Love isn't for some people, it's for all humans... even including me!  I've heard these things in sermons my whole life.  The difference now is that I've let the barriers that are guarding my heart down enough to taste these ideas and I'm seeing what happens if I even just try to believe it; if I peer through a different pair of spectacles and look at the world through "God is love" rather than "how could God be love?", the near-sighted monocle I'd grown comfortable with.

On Sunday, with new ideas in my head and a new book tucked under my arm, I travelled in reverse across France: the same regional bus back to Mâcon, where I caught the train (the strike was off that day) to Paris.  I conquered the metro system traversing the giant metropolis, leaving me just enough time to buy a sandwich for dinner before my second train to Quimper.

When I walked through the building of the familiar Quimper train station around 9:30pm on Sunday, my intention was to find a seat outside with a nice view of the incoming cars, but before I could I heard my name!  Three smiling people were running toward me: Nico, Moisés, and haircut Yanni!  I knew that Yanni might have a haircut from my mother-in-law while I was gone, and without his pony-tail-length wisps he wasn't a baby anymore.  :) :(

It was good to be back with my people, hugging and giggling.