Last Monday, while getting ready to leave for my appointments, I saw the image of Notre Dame engulfed in flames on TV. Although I never have the fortune to visit Paris and Notre Dame, I understand how profoundly it has influenced generations of writers, artists and musicians. It is the heart and soul of French people. It saddened me watching the fire shooting out of the roof.
The next morning, as the fire extinguished, the news seemed more hopeful: The vaulted structure was sound; and the historical artifacts were saved. And funds had been pouring in for the reconstruction. The image of daylight shinning through the open ceiling onto the rose window reminded me of the destroy and rebirth of another church: Marienkirche (St. Mary Church) in Lübeck, Germany.[1]
Lübeck is a seaport by the Baltic Sea. Between the 13th and the 16th centuries, it was one of the major cities of Hanseatic League, a confederation of merchant guilds that dominated
trades of the Baltic and North Seas.[2] With wealth and political freedom, it grew into a cultural center where arts, music and architectural developments flourished. Seven spires of five churches—St. Jakobi, St. Marien, St. Petri, St. Aegidien and Lübeck Cathedral—gave Lübeck the name, “City of Seven Spires.” The two of Marien were the tallest among them.
Constructed in Northern Germany Brick Gothic style,[3] Marienkirche is situated on the highest point of Old Town island.[4] For centuries, it stood a symbol of prosperity, power and culture. This is especially true for musicians: Among the artistic treasures housed at the church, there was Bernt Notke’s painting Der Totentanze (The Dance of Death or Danse Macabre).[5] Along with the plainchant melodic motive “Dies irea,”[6] paintings and sculptures of death intermingling with life have inspired magnificent musical works for centuries by composers such as Johannes Ockeghem, Mozart, Berlioz, Verdi, Rachmaninoff, and Shostakovich, to name a few. There were two organs at the church: The great one, first build in early 16th century and expended multiple times, on the west wall, and a smaller one on the north arm of the east transept, right above the “Totentanz,” the “Totentanzorgel.”
In the 17th century, two leading organists of the North German school, Franz Tunder and his son-in-law Dieterich Buxtehude, brought music making in Marien to its prominence.They began the tradition of Abendmusik—five evening concerts of organ and vocal music preceding Christmas, paid by local sponsors and free to the public. In 1705, J.S. Bach, then twenty years of age, travel on foot from Arnstadt to Lübeck in order to observe the work of Buxtehude.[7] It was a 250 mile (400 kilometer) journey. Bach had obtained permission from his employer for a four-week leave. Instead, he stayed for four months. The official record indicated that this trip was entirely for “educational” purpose. It was also likely that the young musician was also seeking for better employment and musical environment.[8] In either case, the long-lasting influence of the meeting of the two musical giants cannot be ignored.
On the eve of Palm Sunday in 1924,[9] with the aid of full moon, Royal Air Force dropped 400 tons of tombs and incendiaries over the Old Town of Lübeck.[10] The raid that continued till the next day destroyed twenty percent of the city. The treasures and heritage of Marien all went up in flame. The images of its two leaning towers above the wreckage, still burning, are often seen in historical accounts of the war. After years of reconstruction, Marienkirche is now,
with the Old Town, part of UNESCO World Heritage Site. Its long and active musical tradition resumed.
In early 2007, during a business trip to Northern Germany, I stopped by Lübeck to visit a close friend and colleague. A tour of Marienkirche was on the top of my must-do list. Knowing the history of the church, I walked in feeling more like a pilgrim than a tourist. On a cloudy workday morning, there were not many visitors. There was a solemn air in the simple yet elegant nave. The vaulted ceiling was imposing while inspiring.
Under the south tower, as a reminder of the destruction of the war, remnants of two broken bells, partially melted by the fire and sunk into the ground, stayed untouched.[11] A copy of the Totentanz wrapped around the walls of the transept where the old work used to be: Small images of people of all ages and social status seemed emotionless.[12] On the contrary, leading these folks, skeletons in dance-like gesture seemed almost lively. Just when I felt perplexed, my friend’s ten-month-old baby daughter started to make interesting sounds: Having heard sounds echoing in the church, she was experimenting. She called out “ah. . .;” she listened—eyes wide opened; she tried again. . .. At that moment, I learned the self-rejuvenating power of humanity.
No worldly thing can or will last forever. However, the humanity, which passes on from generation to generation, will endure. It is the power that carries us upwards to a higher spiritual realm.
[1]St._Mary’s_Church_Lübeck_Wiki
[2]Hanseatic_League_Wiki
[3]Traditionally, Gothic architectures were constructed with stones. In the regions where stones were not available, bricks were used instead.
[4]Lübeck’s “Old Town” is build on a small island surrounded by Trave River and the Elbe-Lübeck Canal.
[5]The original work by Notke might have originated in 1463 after an outbreak of the plague. The frieze was done on a canvas, instead of painting directly on the wall. Verses in Middle Dutch were placed underneath each figure. It was replaced by a copy, accompanied by new Baroque verses, in 1701. This copy was destroyed in 1942.
A digitally reproduced image of Totentanz
[6]“Dies_irae_Music_Wiki
[7]
On account of Bach’s obituary.
[8]It was known that Buxtehude was searching for a successor as well as a son-in-law for his thirty-year-old daughter. This opportunity might have been offered to and rejected by Johann Mattheson and George Frideric Handel.
[9]The coincidence of the timing of the two fires was not lost on me.
[10]Bombing_of_Lübeck_in_WWII_Wiki
[11]Broken Bells at Marien
[12]The notion that all people were equal when confronting death would have been especially meaningful to residents of Hanseatic Lübeck, where, in medieval time, there was clearly defined social hierarchy. The population grew rapidly whi the economy. A solution for the overcrowding was to create corridors (Gänge) between buildings on the main streets leading to the backyards (Höfe) where small huts (Buden) were built for the servants and working class residents. Today, these Buden are sought-after residential properties with gardens and playgrounds in the center of the courtyards
