If I’d been born in medieval times, I’d undoubtedly have been a peasant with my fat feet. No Jimmy Choos for me (I’ll keep my little toes, thank you very much). Obviously no royal upbringing either, which is probably why when Jimmy and I toured Austria’s Melk Abbey last month, my perspective leaned more towards the monumental task of keeping the castle/fortress/abbey clean rather than appreciating the history and grandeur displayed.
The abbey as well as the frescos were simply heavenly.
Case in point; look at the Emperors’ Gallery below. Prior to our visit last month, I’d never experienced the light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel phenomenon that suddenly swept over me when I considered the monumental task of scrubbing this floor, much less dusting all 422 portraits of Austrian royalty (okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but can you blame me?). Granted, this place was heavenly, but if I'm going to walk towards the light, I'd like to be a little closer to home. I figure it will make finding my friends and family that much easier if/when I arrive.
This hallway stretches the same distance in the opposite direction.
And look at all those windows. What a nightmare washing those inside and out. I refuse to even think about what’s behind all the doors running the length of this hallway. Of course those rooms were off limits to us anyway. I refuse to imagine cleaning any areas I didn’t even get to see. Not much obedience in my peasant blood. It would be a monumental task for me, fitting in at this monastery.
Do the monks do the cleaning, or is that what the nuns are for? Does everyone chip in, including the 700 or so students studying here? Charity begins at home, right?
These were the practical things rolling around inside my head like marbles (I know, you’re wondering at this point if I’ve lost my marbles) as we began our 90-minute tour on the second floor. Of course there was also the running monologue coming through my headphones via our guide, a very knowledgeable student from the abbey. She took herself and her job very seriously (she kept us moving at a clip), while I, on the other hand, had reached sensory overload. I was obviously incapable of anything but incoherent thought. Everything was turning blue as we commenced our tour in the museum portion of the abbey. Maybe I had lost my marbles! Why was the room blue?
Do the monks do the cleaning, or is that what the nuns are for? Does everyone chip in, including the 700 or so students studying here? Charity begins at home, right?
These were the practical things rolling around inside my head like marbles (I know, you’re wondering at this point if I’ve lost my marbles) as we began our 90-minute tour on the second floor. Of course there was also the running monologue coming through my headphones via our guide, a very knowledgeable student from the abbey. She took herself and her job very seriously (she kept us moving at a clip), while I, on the other hand, had reached sensory overload. I was obviously incapable of anything but incoherent thought. Everything was turning blue as we commenced our tour in the museum portion of the abbey. Maybe I had lost my marbles! Why was the room blue?
Definitely not what I was expecting in an abbey.
Oh, thank heavens; my marbles weren’t yet maundering! According to our guide, the blue room (one of 11 rooms once part of the ‘royal’ chambers now house the museum portion of the abbey), with its stark furnishings and historical artifacts, depicted the first stage of life for a Benedictine monk, when their immediate task was to simply ‘HORE’, the German word for ‘LISTEN’.
I was "listening." Bobby Vinton's "Blue on Blue" tune was playing nonstop in my head.
OMG! Do monks have marbles, too; running dialogues in their heads they just couldn’t seem to quiet? Mine are pretty much nonsense (I'm sure I've proven that point beyond a shadow of a doubt), the occasional discussion with the Man, and once in a while the how-could-you-be-so-stupid diatribe following the foot-in-mouth tap dance.
The effect was enough to get me to stop, look and listen before crossing any more streets leading nowhere. There was so much in this room that seemed to go nowhere (or came out of nowhere), but I wasn’t playing anymore. I’d packed up my marbles for the duration. Even I knew this was going to require everything I could bring to the table sitting in the middle of the room. It was time to follow the monks' lead; time to dine on the divine with all my heart and soul. No distractions.
The blue light was very calming. It was so special, I wondered if K-Mart had been there ahead of me. Sorry! It’s all I can do to keep those marbles from rolling around inside my head!
The effect was enough to get me to stop, look and listen before crossing any more streets leading nowhere. There was so much in this room that seemed to go nowhere (or came out of nowhere), but I wasn’t playing anymore. I’d packed up my marbles for the duration. Even I knew this was going to require everything I could bring to the table sitting in the middle of the room. It was time to follow the monks' lead; time to dine on the divine with all my heart and soul. No distractions.
The blue light was very calming. It was so special, I wondered if K-Mart had been there ahead of me. Sorry! It’s all I can do to keep those marbles from rolling around inside my head!
This one spoke to me: "a squared plus b squared equals c squared." Pythagoras would be proud.
Gemeinschaft means 'community.' In this case, a faith community.
I gave you my take on this one in last Friday's Fun Fotos.
Even I know blue is the cool, calm color of spirituality. Blue enhances communication while green means growth, balance, harmony. I could feel the warmth, going from one room to the next, but the rest of the green room was lost on me. Maybe my headphones had stopped working. Maybe I just didn’t have enough marbles, period.
This is what green with envy looks like.
We moved through several rooms devoted to more historical rather than allegorical artifacts. This I could understand, although all the glass and mirrors created a dizzying effect in this particular room. Probably just me and my marbles again!
The abbey's take on a house of mirrors was quite startling.
Given the abbey was a seat of learning, there were rare books everywhere, from the Loosdorfer School Rules, circa 1574, one of only two copies remaining,
What's school without a few rules.
to this relic, a Travel Breviary containing the texts for the monks hourly prayers when traveling. I guess they didn’t have to worry about texting while driving in those days.
Whoa! That's quite the prayer list.
Just when I thought things were making sense, the artifacts gave way to a multi-media display entitled, “Whole People”, with modern man sharing the screen with statues of man emerging from the wall, and of course our tour group. It was all very unexpected and overwhelming. Perhaps a nod to the monks' religious experience as a spiritual community, or man in general.
The message was clear: faith is universal for all mankind.
And speaking of sharing, apparently during the 15th century, sharing coffins was practiced for a time. Money is definitely the root of all evil. In an effort to save said money, for a short while coffins at the monastery were designed with a trap door so the bodies of the deceased could be properly viewed in a coffin during the wake, but when it came time for the actual burial, a trap door was released, the bottom of the coffin opened up, and the body dropped into the grave below sans coffin. That way the same coffin could be used again and again.
Gives new meaning to the phrase, 'drop dead.'
Talk about losing your marbles! I guess that’s better than losing your faith.
I don’t want you losing interest either. I have one more day of Melk Abbey, a post filled with the splendor and grandeur of Baroque architecture, a favorite of the Roman Catholic Church, especially given the Protestants were giving the Catholic Church a run for their money during the Reformation. With the Catholic Church's wealth and power at stake, the emotional embellishments so typical of Baroque architecture went right to the heart and soul of man's faith, a faith the church needed to maintain the status quo.
History is really terribly enlightening, don't you think?
I think you'll like tomorrow's magnificent Marmorsaal (Marble Hall), where history's rich and famous were wined and dined. The church pulled out all the stops when it came to the glorious Stiftskirche (abbey church) of Saints Peter and Paul. All in all, I'd have to say my favorite piece of Baroque architecture was the abbey's spiral staircase; it would inspire envy in a conch shell.
I don’t want you losing interest either. I have one more day of Melk Abbey, a post filled with the splendor and grandeur of Baroque architecture, a favorite of the Roman Catholic Church, especially given the Protestants were giving the Catholic Church a run for their money during the Reformation. With the Catholic Church's wealth and power at stake, the emotional embellishments so typical of Baroque architecture went right to the heart and soul of man's faith, a faith the church needed to maintain the status quo.
History is really terribly enlightening, don't you think?
I think you'll like tomorrow's magnificent Marmorsaal (Marble Hall), where history's rich and famous were wined and dined. The church pulled out all the stops when it came to the glorious Stiftskirche (abbey church) of Saints Peter and Paul. All in all, I'd have to say my favorite piece of Baroque architecture was the abbey's spiral staircase; it would inspire envy in a conch shell.
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