Monday, February 6, 2012

Dreams of a Snow Church

I miss winter.  I do.

This Sunday, as I motored down beautiful country roads on my way to P-ville, I could tell that winter had tried.  She'd sprinkled a dusting of powdered-sugar snow on the fields, some of which still drifted down to spatter against the faceshield of my helmet.   Some of those wet spots in the hollows seemed dark and hungry as a shark's eye with the sheen of black ice.  I tiptoed the motorcycle over them, and hummed on.

But it's been a warm one here on the East coast of the United States, barely a winter at all.

Perhaps that's why these pictures of that church in Bavaria made almost entirely of snow appeal to me.  The idea of it delights, and on so many levels.

What better place for the Frozen Chosen to gather to meta-snicker at our reputation?

And it's so simple.  So essential.  So gentle and elegant in the soft blue of shadows and moonlight.  So devoid of frippery and folderol, pricey paraments or their 21st century projection-screen equivalents.

John Calvin's heart would go pit-a-pat at the sight of it, or at least stir enough to either write a scholarly treatise or organize a task force, which is what typically passes for arousal in the Reformed world.

And best of all, in the snow church there would be no struggling for funds to maintain the aging HVAC system, no anxiety about the condition of the roof.  Come spring, when the eidelweiss blooms, the physical church will simply melt away, to rise again when the season is right.

There's just no point in fighting, fretting or getting too anxious about something that will only be here for a season.


No comments:

Post a Comment