One of the most astonishing aspects about religious practice is how powerful individuals are in shaping the sacredness of a person, place, or object. Without the support and devotion of individuals, tradition and religious belief are left hollow and lifeless. If an elder or priest declares something as sacred, it will not retain its supposed sacredness without the popular reception and support from groups and the individuals themselves. On the other hand, there can be a sacred object that a guardian of a religious tradition never considered sacred (or even deemed it inappropriate or evil) until mass devotionalism arises around it. What this ultimately means is that nothing religious can ever be considered "religious" or "sacred" over an extended period of time without the piety and homage dedicated to a person, place, or object. It must be believed to be sacred for it to retain its sacredness. This is one of the primary areas where religions derives its power; power that ultimately rests in the hands of the individual (which is not the case in politics or other realms of human activity where more structures inhibit this radical power of the individual).
I thought a lot about religious devotionalism when we were in Prague in relation to a few different sites of pilgrimage. The Loreta complex was a former convent and pilgrimage center for Bohemian Catholics. Tradition says that in 1626, the Santa Casa (Mary's home in Nazareth) was under threat from sieging Turks. The night before the house's impending demise, it was miraculously transported by angels to Dalmantia and then to northern Italy. The news quickly spread throughout Europe and many copy cat shrines popped up throughout the continent. Although initially opposed by the church hierarchy, they eventually encouraged the practice during the Counter Reformation due to the Santa Casa's popular appeal. The chapel itself was surrounded by cloisters that were built for pilgrims. They are still lined with shrines and smaller side-chapels. In the Church of the Nativity was a statue St. Agatha who was sexually assaulted for her faith and had her breasts cut off (her breasts were being carried on a plater by a wax angel underneath the painting of her). St. Apolena had her teeth smashed in during her martyrdom and is now invoked for toothache. Her wax angel had dentist's pliers with a tooth in it. The oddest shrine was definately St. Wilgefortis--the patron saint of unhappily married women. Tradition says that she was the daughter of the king of Portugal and was due to marry the king of Sicily. Praying that she would be able to uphold her vow of virginity, God intervened and she grew a beard. The king broke off the marriage and her father had her crucified. In her shrine, it was easy to first mistake her as Jesus dressed in drag. At the Loreta, we also started our pilgrimage route with the requisite box of Pilgrimage Wafers from the gift shop. Mine were coconut flavored.
The next church
that we visited was Panna Maria
Vitezna in Mala Strana. The highlight of this church is the Bambino di Praga, a wax effigy of a three-year-old Jesus enthroned in an elevated glass case. In 1628, he was donated by a Spanish bride. Too this day little baby Jesus has collected nearly 100 outfits that are frequently changed by the Carmelite nuns from a nearby convent. He is attributed as having miraculous healing powers and still remains a popular pilgrimage site in the area and in Europe. The "cult" around the Bambino extends beyond his miraculous significance to his own visual culture, with goods ranging from calendars with Jesus in twelve different outfits, to children's books and movies, and statues and other little relics.
Our last "pilgrimage" was in Sedlec, just outside of Kutna Hora, an hour southeast of Prague by train. Walking from the train station, we passed Nanebevzeti Panny Marie, with what used to be a famous monastery next-door. Now, the monastery houses Phillip Morris' offices and the History and Presence of Tobacco Museum. Beyond that is the largest tobacco factory in Europe. About a ten minute walk away rests the monk's graveyard and an ancient Gothic chapel. In the 12th century, soil from Golgotha was scattered throughout the cemetery. It soon became the desired burial grounds for nobility throughout Bohemia. The earth was rumored to d
ecompose a body quicker here than anywhere else, some times in three days. Bones mounted until the cemetery was overflowing with them. Beginning in 1511, a half-blind and deaf monk began stacking bones outside the chapel to make room for new people to be buried. By the 19th century, there were over 40,000 full sets of human bones. In the 1870s, the church authorized Frantisek Rint to do decorate the subterranean ossuary with the bones. From the entrance, you see the bones lining either side of the staircase. On both walls, they are arranged into crosses, cups, and and other "decorative" motifs. As you walk down the stairs, the letters IHS are written in bones (Latin for Jesus Hominum Salvator--Jesus the Saviour of Humanity). In the main chapel, there are bones EVERYWHERE besides the alter at the front. Four of the corners are filled by four pyramids of bones that rise nearly five meters from the ground (they are now caged off to prevent tourists from stealing "souvenirs"). In the floor is the artist's signature, surprisingly, written out of bones. One of the walls is covered with the Coat of Arms for the Schwarzenberg family. The center is dominated by a skull with an arm reaching out from behind the coat of arms, gouging out the eye (which represents the family's victory over the Turks in 1599). The centerpiece is a chandelier that uses every bone in the human body. As the pictures can show better than words, it is one of the oddest places I have ever been in my life. Being in a place like this, you automatically jump to the question what would motivate a person to do this? But any attempts to find a definite answer to the question "why?" only seems to diminish the sheer oddness and mystery of a place like this religious site.
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