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On a small bookshelf in the hallway of our home, there’s an insignificant looking chunk of concrete no larger than a pincushion. The bottom of this little concrete nugget reveals a small sticker with a name and address, written in German, over which a handwritten note:
Authentic piece of the wall of Berlin - to Mari & Jim.
It wasn’t long after the fall of the Berlin Wall that a men’s chorus and ensemble toured and performed throughout Germany, including parts of the former East Germany. “The Sons of Jubel” is composed of professional musicians who serve as ministers of music from throughout the Georgia Baptist Convention. Traveling with them on the trip to Germany was my dad, Jim Carter, with my stepmom, Mari Carter. Trained in music and voice at LSU and New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, Dad’s first love was the trumpet, and he practiced diligently to play trumpet in the Jubel Ensemble on the trip to Germany. He later described, in living color, the surreal joy of playing Handel’s Water Music with the ensemble on the deck of a cruise ship traveling down the Rhine River, to the delight of one and all onboard the ship.
The most moving performance, however, took place in an old church somewhere in what had been East Germany. The Sons of Jubel were scheduled to play sacred music for the local community. As the time for the concert approached, the number of people in attendance completely filled the sanctuary, and their number kept growing. Soon there were more people than the sanctuary could contain. Speakers were set up outside the building for the throngs of people assembling there, people who would have been content to hear just about any hint of music at all.
So it was a given that the community would appreciate the musical offering from The Sons of Jubel that evening. What was not anticipated, however, and what defied description for Dad and other members of the ensemble and chorus, was the deep and overwhelming emotions of one and all. Immediately upon hearing the first notes of sacred music — music that had not been played in that sanctuary for decades, music banned by the state both inside and outside that sanctuary for some 50 years — those in attendance began weeping en masse. What had started as a performance of sacred music was transformed to a worship service of the Author of all that is sacred.
The balance of the evening’s music was characterized by tears of immense and deep gratitude, from a congregation of people who had experienced firsthand the iron fist of communism’s prohibition on all things that transcend the authority of the state. Later that evening, in the home of a member of the congregation (who spoke no English) and his wife (who basically translated the conversation), Dad and Mari experienced the generous hospitality and fellowship of a remarkable couple who gave them a piece of the Berlin Wall that they had salvaged when the wall came tumbling down.
No matter how often I travelled to Germany while on active duty, I was forever dumbfounded at the castles, cathedrals, and even towns that had been there for centuries. Here in America we stare in awe at structures that date back to the 18th or 19th century, but we’re still the “new kid” on the tapestry of nations across the globe. I remember asking the local Bürgermeister (mayor) in the town of Leck how long his town had been there. “Oh, not long,” he answered, “perhaps 500 years.” I ordered another German beer and went away to ponder how “not long” and “500 years” could fit in the same sentence.
Then I traveled to Cologne, Germany and stood in total amazement at the great cathedral there. I felt as insignificant as an ant staring up at a redwood tree. Towering over us mortals at 516 feet, the sheer massive scope of this Gothic wonder, which took 800 years to build, with construction starting in 1248, passed all understanding. I remember walking up the stone steps to the cathedral entrance, steps worn down by centuries of people whose footsteps I followed, and the understanding that I’m not even a blip in humanity’s story. The colossal grandeur was overwhelming to the senses.
Contemplate that immense cathedral and experience how it beckons us to lift our gaze up, always up, toward the cathedral’s spires which themselves point skyward, inviting us to cast our eyes heavenward toward the Creator who Himself came down to an unassuming manger, from which he would light the divine path to eternity for all of humanity The unmistakeable Christmas sparkle we see in the eyes of our children and grandchildren, our loved ones and our dear friends is but a glimmer of the light that reaches out to us across more than 2,000 years, where it first shone over Bethlehem.
Sometimes it’s the unassuming things that make a huge difference, whether it’s a smile and greeting to a stranger, letting a motorist into traffic, answering a would-be antagonist with grace, or even an inauspicious little chunk of concrete that unlocks the story of a formerly enslaved people who had been freed to worship and live as they like. Unassuming gifts of love are often the most priceless things. From our little home to you and yours, Becky and I wish you all a Merry Christmas.
Discussion (8)
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The Cologne cathedral was heavily damaged during WWII; almost destroyed, really. Seven hundred years almost wiped out in four. It was rebuilt after the war. It is a monument to both the fragility and resilience of civilization.
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Yes. There was still scaffolding on the structure when I was there in 1989, and they were taking donations to fund the continued refurbishment of the structure. The story I heard was that it was a retaliatory hit after the Germans bombed the house of parliament in Great Britain. Grok tells a different story however
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What I found amusing in a book about the bombing of Cologne (The 1000 Plane Raid) was a reference to bombing the Cathedral. RAF Command sent out orders that the Cathedral not be bombed. In some squadrons they told the experienced crews not to bomb the cathedral, but told the inexperienced crews to use it as an aiming point.
Why? On the grounds it was the best way to avoid damage to the Cathedral. The safest place on the ground from a bomb dropped by a green crew was directly under the target, because they would never hit it.
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Wow. I get the logic, but I never would have guessed it. Fascinating!
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There is a significant number of connections around Ricochet for Berlin and the Wall.
I was drafted into the Army in 1961 during what was called the Berlin Wall Crisis.
In 1983, I was the Treasury Department Chief Disbursing Officer and on occasion I would have to step aside in the hallway after a meeting at Main Treasury to allow President Reagan and Secretary Regan to pass.
I was still in the CDO position when President Reagan delivered Peter Robinson's prepared words to "tear down this wall" to Gorbachov.
So, as I was reading this post, I decided to look at Peter's work here and in that process I came across this post, from 2011, that just astounded me:
Are Conservatives Dissatisfied Because We Don’t Have A Candidate Opposing the Administrative State?
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