Blessed are the Clean of Heart
Decrepit. Ignored. It’s reverent majesty still demanded respect. Walking through the narrow cobblestoned streets of Vilnius, we spotted the steeple of an 18th century church towering over a weed infested parking lot. Its off-the-beaten-path nature lured us in.
The Church of the Assumption of the Holy Virgin Mary was undoubtedly one of the treasured pearls of this city’s stringed collection. Years of Soviet rule unfortunately decimated the devine beauty that once reigned here. The ceiling showed trace sketches of frescos that once covered every corner of the upper reaches of the church. Those masterpieces were now little more than pink and blue freckled paint chips perilously fighting the unrelenting effects of gravity.
Our wonderment was soon met by a Franciscan monk, who explained the torturous affairs the Soviets had put through all facets of religion. He was a friendly monk, as they all are. He hadn’t combed his hair since stumbling out of bed that morning and if I hadn’t seen him in his robe and waist-tied-rope, I would have taken him for a common city-slicker slacker, the type who would advise you on the movies you had to see while working at the video rental store.
We talked basketball (Lithuania is a basketball crazed country) through our translator Joanna. Then were invited to his back office. He unlocked the door with a key representing the kind I’d only seen in comic strips and cartoons. Through the door and we were in a low-ceilinged room covered with light and playful frescos from the floor up. Light pink cherubins played amongst a babyblue background, all culminating in the Assumption of the Virgin amongst clouds so near to the head that they looked as if they could be touched. My craned neck began to ache.
After a bit more small talk, the monk bowed his head and raised his hands with the palms facing us. He began to speak. He was blessing us. He was blessing us. After a short prayer, he and our friend Joanna, a pious Polish Catholic girl, began reciting the Lord’s Prayer in the Polish tongue I find hypnotizing.
We parted ways and wandered out into the desolate parking lot in a state of wonder. I had tears in my eyes but hid them well. It was an incredibly beautiful moment.