Cities are stringing their Christmas lights, hot punč is served on every corner, and the familiar tunes of Christmas carols can be heard in the shops. [For those back home crying, "It's too soon!" remember there's no Thanksgiving here].
I visited Olomouc last night to attend a concert with my friends, Lenka and Aneta. It was a lovely trip filled with many incredible experiences to share with you [another time], but what keeps running through my mind is a story from the city center.
Every year, Olomouc fills its square with little wooden shed-like shops - hand painted ornaments, knitted mittens and hats, carved instruments and all the latest trinkets are set out for sale. Fried potato cakes and roasted chestnuts waft through the air. The town and astronomical clocks are lit and strung with lights. This beautiful, traditional European Christmas Market is a spectacular sight that would fill even the Grinch with Christmas-fever.
But what stands out juxtapose beside the shops, the food and drinks, the ornate city hall or astronomical clock, are two figures - the Holy Trinity Column and a giant Christmas tree.
The Holy Trinity Column is one of several Marian columns throughout Europe - religious sculptures built in memorial of and gratitude for the end of the Plague that swept throughout the countries. The columns all include depictions of Mary and various saints to which the town had prayed. The Holy Trinity Column has 18 saints and 14 reliefs exactly. It's unique compared to other Marian columns, because the sculptors were all Olomouc citizens; the talented craftsmanship is a source of great pride to the people and the column is considered sacred. During the Prussian Wars, bombs damaged the column, and after Olomouc citizens pleaded and begged the Prussian armies not to do any further harm to the relic, there was a decree sent out to protect the column. Damages were repaired shortly after. Following wars also honored the agreement to protect the column while the rest of the city's homes and ornate buildings were bombed and torn to pieces.
It's a thing of beauty but also a place of remembrance of the lives that were lost in years past. The column is a shadowy corner of the mind that whispers the brevity of life, and a visual of the places we've sought salvation on our own. It's not until you walk inside the chapel at the base of the Holy Trinity Column where you can see a relief of the sacrifices of Abel, Noah's altar after the Flood, Abraham offering Isaac and a lamb, and finally, Jesus hanging on a cross.
Then, there's the Christmas tree. It's covered from top to bottom in gold and silver and white lights; at the top, is a shining bright star. Did you ever hear The Story of the Three Trees? (It's short; read it). I'm a lover of nature, a lover of stories, a lover of creativity and imagination, and a lover of Jesus (those weren't listed in any particular order). So I'm automatically hurled into a deep, whimsical, introspective place to consider this city of Olomouc in the Czech Republic. This nation is widely atheistic, and chances are that 99% of the people I pass in the streets each day have never heard the Gospel. They don't know the Sacrifice of Jesus; they don't understand how my heart aches to know that the most transformational story of His death for me is kept hidden in the base of the column, rather than shining at the pinnacle, of the sacred memorial.
But despite this little cloud of sadness that threatens to linger, I actually find myself smiling and filled with joy. There's a tradition in Olomouc to give the Christmas trees a name. Last year, I heard it was called "Snowflake," which seems seasonally and festively appropriate, I think. But, this year, it's different. A new name had to be chosen, and I suppose they ran out of "Snowflake, Snowball, Holly, Jolly," or other wintery names. This year, townspeople and tourists will stroll between the vendors' booths, humming the familiar melodies of "Silent Night" and "Joy to the World." They'll lean against the walls of the Holy Trinity Column, sipping on apple punč or snacking on potato cakes or roasted chestnuts. They'll warm their hands in the glow of the electricity that highlights the intricately carved saints and virgin Mary. And there, towering high above them, lit and decorated for all to see, will be the Christmas tree, named "Hope."
It's a thing of beauty but also a place of remembrance of the lives that were lost in years past. The column is a shadowy corner of the mind that whispers the brevity of life, and a visual of the places we've sought salvation on our own. It's not until you walk inside the chapel at the base of the Holy Trinity Column where you can see a relief of the sacrifices of Abel, Noah's altar after the Flood, Abraham offering Isaac and a lamb, and finally, Jesus hanging on a cross.
Then, there's the Christmas tree. It's covered from top to bottom in gold and silver and white lights; at the top, is a shining bright star. Did you ever hear The Story of the Three Trees? (It's short; read it). I'm a lover of nature, a lover of stories, a lover of creativity and imagination, and a lover of Jesus (those weren't listed in any particular order). So I'm automatically hurled into a deep, whimsical, introspective place to consider this city of Olomouc in the Czech Republic. This nation is widely atheistic, and chances are that 99% of the people I pass in the streets each day have never heard the Gospel. They don't know the Sacrifice of Jesus; they don't understand how my heart aches to know that the most transformational story of His death for me is kept hidden in the base of the column, rather than shining at the pinnacle, of the sacred memorial.
But despite this little cloud of sadness that threatens to linger, I actually find myself smiling and filled with joy. There's a tradition in Olomouc to give the Christmas trees a name. Last year, I heard it was called "Snowflake," which seems seasonally and festively appropriate, I think. But, this year, it's different. A new name had to be chosen, and I suppose they ran out of "Snowflake, Snowball, Holly, Jolly," or other wintery names. This year, townspeople and tourists will stroll between the vendors' booths, humming the familiar melodies of "Silent Night" and "Joy to the World." They'll lean against the walls of the Holy Trinity Column, sipping on apple punč or snacking on potato cakes or roasted chestnuts. They'll warm their hands in the glow of the electricity that highlights the intricately carved saints and virgin Mary. And there, towering high above them, lit and decorated for all to see, will be the Christmas tree, named "Hope."
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living HOPE through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. 1 Peter 1:3, 4a
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| "Hope" - the Christmas Tree |
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| Lenka & I at the Holy Trinity Column, this year, November 2015 |
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| Rachel Cherico & I at the Holy Trinity Column, last year, November 2014 |
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