Leipzig
The “Motete” at Thomas Kirche was not a concert. It was eighty per cent music, but it was a Lutheran service. And the Thomas Kirche choir was outstanding as one would expect of a group that just turned seven-hundred years old. Their pitch was exact. Their articulation of all those German consonants was clear as a bell. And their sound, in that famous church of Bach’s, made me think of a pipe organ, a human pipe organ with lungs instead of bellows. We loved it. Our fellow congregants must have liked it, too. But they are Lutherans and applause was strictly forbidden–it explicitly said so in the program. They did not smile and they did not make eye contact. In my view, what Martin Luther advocated is austere and unexpressive unless you are expressing disapproval. His ideas were illegal in Leipzig up until the year fifteen-thirty. After that he became powerful and his practices spread like wild fire.
We arrived into Leipzig’s huge train station–twenty-six platforms. It may be huge, but it is very well laid out and easy to maneuver. From there we walked four blocks to our hotel. The climate was freezing, literally. But walking was still very nice. Leipzig was once a small walled city, like Lucca in Italy, and Dubrovnik in Croatia. In our modern jet-set era it has a fin-de-siecle, an old world charm which is rare and a pleasure to stroll through even when you are pulling roll-aboards from the train station.
And what a reward was in store for us when we reached the hotel. The Steigenberger Grand Hotel is a state-of-the-art luxury inn. One year old. A baby. Hardly been slept in. It looks and feels like “the” place to be and in Leipzig, it is. We especially loved the spa. We dragged our world-weary, achy, travel-abused limbs down there and–after sauna and steam and foot soaks and warm-scented tropical showers and bathrobes and chaises and softly wafting spa music–floated out hours later relaxed and renewed.
In addition to the Thomas Kirche we dwelt a bit in the world of the Nicolai Kirche. It, too, is Lutheran. It, too, featured Bach and his new cantatas every other week. But since nineteen-eighty-nine it has a distinct honor related to the fall of the communist government in East Germany.
The church began a weekly, what they called, “prayer for peace” during which they prayed for fairness, democracy and peace. Their communist government tried to stop them by force and violence then by infiltration. Once the police were in the church and heard the “prayers” they softened and it changed the relationship between the oppressors and the oppressed. It is considered that the movement to bring down the Berlin Wall and communist rule and to re-unite East and West Germany got it’s start with the Nicolai Kirche’s “prayer for peace.”
 |
| Leipzig in the Snow |
Today is a special day. It is snowing. Scarves, gloves, hats. People carrying pine boughs. Is it Christmas behavior? Or is it seasonal behavior? Weather gets cold, let’s get pine boughs, drink mulled wine, eat more stew. I love it. We walked in the light snow to visit the residence of the composer, Felix Mendelssohn who lived in Leipzig for the second half of his life. He died fairly young at thirty-nine years old. Just outside the old city, a block past the old moat, we arrived at an old wooden door. Turned the knob, entered and ascended an old, decorated, dark wooden stairway that looked unchanged from when Mendelssohn last walked it.