Graffiti in the bell tower

I really should stop swearing oaths. It is an exercise in ungodliness, and besides that I almost always end up breaking my word eventually. Other than my marriage vow and an oath never to eat at Shoney's again, most of my rash vows have been broken.

I climbed the stairs of the bell tower in the cathedral in Cologne a couple of years ago. It was worth the trouble and the 2 euro they charge. After ascending and descending the 500+ stones stairs of the narrow passageway to the historic bells I said, "Well, I'll never do that again." What I should have said was, "I'd rather not do that again."

Two years later I found myself purchasing another 2 euro ticket for the privledge of losing my breath and getting cramps in my legs. My daughter was traveling with me and I thought it would be a crime not to take her to the top of the tower and see the view of the city. It was worth the trouble of course, and I took a picture of her that is one of my favorites.

I had already seen the bells and the view so this time my attention was turned to the graffiti that fills the inner walls of the tower stairway. Lovers, students, pilgrims, Satanists and others had taken their turns memorializing their journey to the cathedral by writing inscriptions with a variety of tools and languages. I was repulsed by the bold vandalism and at the same moment tempted to memorialize our visit. In some way we want to be a part of the greatness of the 700 year old building, and the permenance, faith and hope it represents. Graffiti on top of graffiti had made much of the writing illegible and served to illustrate the nameless mass of people that have come and gone like fading letters over the years.

Patrons of the cathedral are buried in eloquent coffins and tombs littering the main floor of the cathedral. Stained glass windows serve as reminders of great men through the ages. An elderly woman kneels in prayer. A group of Asian tourists snap photos. A priest with a coin box strapped to his chest scolds men who forget to remove their hats as they enter the holy place. Gift shops built into the outer walls peddle scale models of the cathedral, religious books and pornographic post cards. A man dressed in a blue bodysuit and wearing a jester's hat performs for the crowds outside the front door. A three-piece accordion band from the Ukraine plays classical music in the courtyard. A street artist spends his day chalking a picture of Mozart on the sidewalk. McDonald's is just across the narrow street and located next door to a hundreds of years old bier haus. It is both sublime and ridiculous.

It is in this place that I am reminded that our names are written in a place that is eternal. I take a deep breath and for a moment I cease despairing of the vanity of life.