My religious tradition observes communion every Sunday, So do Catholics, who shine a special light on the observance during Corpus Christi in early summer. I got to the cathedral in Oviedo today just in time for the Corpus Christi procession through Oviedo’s narrow medieval streets.
As sad as I feel when summer ends, I love the colors of a Tennessee autumn. The hues of a fall afternoon on the way from Nashville to Chattanooga caught my eye, the changing leaves mirrored in the gentle ripples of Nickajack Lake.
“Fallen 1939-45.” This list at the Breckenheim Protestant church honoring the victims of the war made me pause on an unusual 95 degree day in Germany. I couldn’t help but think that, though one side in a war usually claims to have accomplished its objectives, everyone in a sense loses, if not his or her own life, those that are maybe dearest to them.
My friend Konrad and some of his band members perform during a Saturday-evening barbecue at his house in Breckenheim, near Wiesbaden. Opening the door from the street, you see a large bricked patio, the center of what was once a small enclosed farm that included stables and a hay loft. On Saturday the space was filled with friends and neighbors, and the music went past midnight. For me personally, Europe is always a good reminder that life is about so much more than work.
The swinging of the “botafumeiro” at the noontime Pilgrims’ Mass at the Cathedral of Santiago. The mass brought together people of faith from across the world to celebrate the conclusion of their walk to the city named for James the Apostle. Historians say the botafumeiro’s sweet smoke offered an especially welcome aroma in the days when sweaty medieval pilgrims filled the sacred space.
Skies are still gray but today’s precipitation fell earlier, usually in the form of a cool, intermittent mist, what Asturians call “orbayo.” The clouds help explain the lushness of the Galician hills I walked through today, which remind me so much of those of Tennessee. And the winds accompanying the clouds made drying clothes easy work.
Battlements on top with a rose window below. Fortress or church? The Igrexa de san Xoán in Portomarín, Galicia, on the Camino de Santiago, has both military and religious features. When the Franco dictatorship built a dam and flooded the original Portomarín in the 1960s, the church was transferred stone by stone from its medieval home to the new town plaza. This afternoon’s pilgrim mass in the 13th century church starts in 45 minutes.
It’s a rare evening when suddenly I realized how much good I’m surrounded by. My friends Arturo and Eugenia have invited me to the house where Eugenia grew up in the town of San Román, about 40 minutes from Oviedo. We ate fried corn cakes — tortos — made from corn grown in the garden and milled nearby. I’ll never understand the generosity of these good friends or grow tired of the Asturian countryside.
The stained glass in the León cathedral is said to rival any in Spain. I’ve never seen deeper blues or more piercing reds. Almost as inspiring was simply watching my students as they sat silently on hard wooden benches contemplating the space.
Very grateful to be back in Spain. Today was a local holiday in Oviedo, Martes de Campo / Tuesday in the Country, when many people head out of the city for lunch in the Asturian countryside.
Today’s Corpus Christi procession at the San Francisco Javier church in Oviedo included not only boys and girls dressed in their best for First Communion, but a brass band. All of this — a celebration of the “Body of Christ” — reminded me of a central observance that, despite differences, unites believers across the world.
Four friends from Asturias — Arturo, his wife Eugenia and sister-in-law Mercedes, and Verónica, Mercedes’s gentle dog. Today we hiked to the Lago del Valle, the region’s biggest mountain lake. An even greater gift than the stunning landscape is the profound generosity of my Asturian friends. I hope I can at least imitate it — its depth I’ll never understand.
