When we speak about miracles and wonders, most people imagine something unbelievable, something that has never or extremely rarely occurred before, something that wasn’t created and conjured up by people, something that still remains a mystery in spite of all the efforts to find a key to comprehend it. But miracles are not simply that, they are not just wonders which are not to be conceived by a human mind. The word miracle has its power because it touches, because it has the ability to charm and fascinate, because it creates those butterflies in the tummy, because it presents you with the wings, because it is the strength of your faith and belief, because it simply makes you feel good.
In the middle of an old, almost ancient city, in which history is well intermingled with the modern achievements, stands a giant, massive, but refined, gloomy, but majestic, threatening, but gentle. The giant, being 632 years old, has seen generations come and go, and still preserves the memory of the people gone. Crowds and hordes from all over the world come to him every day to stare at his façade, leave a note on his walls or light a candle with a prayer. He has become a resting place for quite a number of people and amazing works of art. He, with his two spires 157 m. in height, has been the city’s most famous landmark for centuries and the most well-known architectural monument in Germany. But he is something definitely more than that.
“Staring at the numerous figures of the saints, some dating back to the 13th century, neatly cut out of the rough limestone and placed on the outside walls, I entered the building, which seemed to have been calling me for ages. Inside it looked even bigger than from the outside, spacious and airy but with very little light coming through the stained-glass windows depicting the scenes from the Bible. I walked in and looked up, feeling how the ground slipped from under my feet, setting me flying in the air, and making my head spin. The tall columns with millions of curls and spikes carved in their strong bodies, rising high to the top of the giant, introduced me to the forest of stone. I slowly walked around, staring right and left, and though the giant amazed me, he was cold in his magnificence. At the same time, it was the perfect place to exhibit the glory of God, his power and his might in the overwhelming atmosphere of an aging building. I felt the power, the strength, the severity, but also the warm rays of hope, belief and prayer from the glowing corners, glowing with the candle light neatly set in rows. I stepped up to light a candle and a man smiled at me. A wave of warmth ran through my body filling every cell of my being with its joy. Despite the gray walls and somewhat severe appearance of the giant, he was a cozy place with enough space to let my thoughts wander.”
How odd, he contradicts himself, he scares and invites, he blames you for your sins and offers forgiveness…
The place had been built by a man, but seemed to be of godly origin, erected by God’s will and word.
“Counting steps one after the other, I climbed to the top, to the head of the giant. Having conquered some of the 359 steps of an extremely narrow staircase, I saw the voice of “his majesty”. His voice could be both gentle and rough resounding in the bells of different size. But as I climbed higher and higher, leaving below the rest of the steps, a strange feeling of climbing the tower of Babel arose in me. With every step I felt myself coming closer and closer to God, making my way through fear and shame, and acquiring the feeling of finally returning home. As I climbed the last passage of the stairs, stepping onto the platform, I saw the whole city spread in front of me, I felt the sky so close that I wanted to stretch my arm and pluck a piece of the white fluffy cloud hanging over my head.”
The giant hides and preserves within his walls things which are even older than he is: a part of a Roman wall, a burial place of a young woman and a boy of 6, who might have been her son, the remains of the three Wise Men, who greeted Jesus Christ in his first hours in this world, a nail from the cross of the Son of God, a part of the chain stained with sufferings of Apostle Peter… The giant encloses the outcomes of many nights and days of weary labor with a candle on the table and a needle in the hands, the bishops’ robes, gold crosses, and precious rings, which somehow make me think mostly about the corruption in church, although amazing me as I wonder of the generous gifts of handicrafts, which are presented to those who believe by their loving Father.
“I touched the Roman wall and suddenly images of slaves with torn hands and wars taking place nearby came into my mind. I drew my hand sharp back, but the feeling of the stone remained on my fingertips, as if staining them with history which no soap can wash off. I clenched a fist, not understanding myself, whether I did it in order to wipe the stain off or to preserve it.
As I walked outside with the vessel of my soul filled up to the top, the sun was already setting down, but the gray, gloomy giant, instead of seeming even sadder, was bathing in the last rays of the sun. Caressed by them he seemed to be glowing with joy and satisfaction. Having a golden halo around his huge body he seemed to be smiling with that sincerity which is so rare to find.”
Miracles happen, even though sometimes not in the conventional sense. Their main function is not necessarily to make your life easier, but to inspire and lift you up, to give you the feeling you never thought you could experience. Some things, events, people and places, forever change who we are, and, thus, are not to be forgotten. It doesn’t matter how long the encounter lasts, one day it imprints on your memory and haunts you from then on. He touched, he fascinated, he made me feel welcome in a strange city. There, where I knew no one, he was my friend. I can still see the Cologne Cathedral and its glare, I can still hear its voice sounding in my head, and I am glad about the fact that I will always long to return there and have another date with him, as every time my thoughts meet his image, everything feels a little warmer.
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