When I was a little girl, my mom assured me that special blessings come to us whenever we enter a church we’ve never visited before. So it was that I joined my mom in praying for the special graces associated with such visits. Though I’m hard pressed to locate the source of my mom’s certainty in this area, I admit that I think of her whenever I enter a church that is new to me. I also admit that I dutifully respond to her urging with a prayer of gratitude for the many blessings in my life and a prayer of petition for anything those I love may need at that particular moment in time. Though I have no tally of blessings received as a result of these visits, I can attest to the sense of belonging that embraces me in the midst of my prayer on these occasions. “God’s house is God’s house,” the walls around me seem to say, “and you are welcome here.”
When the good deacon and I traveled to Germany a few weeks ago, we visited God’s house in many forms. Mike’s cousin, Father Stjepan, planned an amazing itinerary for us. He and his nephew, Josip, guided us to each stop along the way. The first was the Old Synagogue (Alte Synagoge) in Essen. This edifice is the largest and most architecturally impressive synagogue in all of Germany. Still, in spite of its looming posture, I felt the building’s vulnerability when I entered. Today, the Old Synagogue serves as a memorial to the Jewish souls lost in Hitler’s rampage and as a museum, meeting place and cultural center for those interested in Essen’s Jewish Community. Though this building seats fourteen hundred people, less than one hundred chairs rest before the Torah Ark where the sacred scriptures are kept. Though this synagogue boasted five thousand members in 1913, a far smaller faith community remains today. As I stepped past the chairs toward the historical displays, a chill overwhelmed me. I wondered how many of those who occupy these chairs today are descendents of those murdered more than seven decades ago. This sacred space prompted me to heed my mother’s words and to offer a prayer. I gave thanks, not only for God’s gifts to me, but also for the strength and grace that persist in spite of the great evil that touched this place. I absorbed as many of this building’s treasures as I could before we moved on. As we passed through its heavy doors and bade our farewell, I pressed my hand against the synagogue’s outer wall –a feeble attempt to leave my love and prayers with the souls present and the souls long since passed who occupied this holy place.
Afterward, Stjepan and Josip led us across the street and past the Essen Diocese offices. Our next destination rested just a block ahead in the midst of the city center. Essen Cathedral (Essener Münster), constructed in 1275, proudly holds its place in Essen’s postwar skyline. The cathedral’s stately presence drew me in, and its vast interior took my breath away. Though the cathedral suffered much damage during World War II, it has been restored with great care. Once again, my mom’s invitation echoed in my memory, and so I prayed. When I finished, our cousins led us to The Golden Madonna of Essen. This gold-plated wooden image of Mary holding the Child Jesus is the oldest free-standing sculpture north of the Alps. It dates back to Year 980. As I gazed into the sculpture’s eyes, I imagined centuries of pilgrims who’d done the same before me. “Good God, how do you manage to love each one of us?” I asked. As I pondered my query, a beautiful menorah caught my eye. This monument to our Old Testament heritage stood as tall as I. As I considered the importance of these common bonds to German Christians and Jews during the war, Stjepan led us to a modest, but poignant memorial. A small alcove of the cathedral is dedicated to a man who lost his life in his effort to oppose Adolf Hitler. Though the beauty of Essen Cathedral is truly a sight to behold, I found myself more touched by the close proximity of the menorah, this memorial and the sanctuary of the church. These great symbols of Judaism, Christianity and one man’s effort to love as God loves rest just a few meters from one another in God’s house. Later, when I found a menorah in Die Basilika St. Ludgerus and in every Catholic Church that we visited in Germany, I realized that the great faith of the German people compels them to love far beyond the human barriers of the past.
Indeed, I found myself very much at home in each of God’s houses which we visited in Germany. This is likely my mother’s doing, as she took Jesus’ message of welcome to heart and then passed this wisdom on to her daughter. In today’s gospel (Matthew 22:1-14), Jesus likens the kingdom of heaven to a wedding feast to which everyone is invited. If we wish to feel at home in God’s company and in God’s house, we need to follow Jesus’ lead. We must open the doors of our hearts, just as Jesus opens the doors of God’s house and God’s kingdom, to everyone who knocks.
©2011 Mary Penich – All Rights Reserved
Mary Penich 
How I envy you and the “good deacon” for your opportunity to visit such wonderful and rich historical sites. The lives that have been lived in these same walls retain their spirit of God’s love and grace.
I would encourage you to continue to visit these places and then write about them to those of us who benefit from your insights.
Thank you for a piece of your travels. Your mother was a true woman of faith and past that on to you. How blest you are. God gave a you a gift for writing and I agree with Larry – keep traveling and tell us about how God is there with you.
Thank you, Larry! When I find myself reluctant to travel, I must remember these wonderful experiences that have truly enriched my soul. Writing about these things allows me to enjoy them all over again.