My name is
Noreen Nanz - Irish first name,
named after an Australian ancestor. I'm
not Irish, but I am part Celtic, and
have learned to love my name.
Actually, it's a form of "Honora", which means Honor,
something I find pretty noble to be named after. My last name, Nanz, is German, but I'm also
not German, although I live in Germany.
My husband is German. As I say in
the introduction to my blog, I am a hybrid, which is probably true of most of
us Americans.
I never thought I loved traveling, and I
still don't really think of myself as a traveler, but more of a pilgrim. I'm on pilgrimage, wherever I go. Pilgrims contemplate, I suppose, and I do
spend quite a bit of time contemplating.
When you think of contemplatives, you don't usually think of them out on
the road having adventures, but perhaps rather cloistered in a cell somewhere,
oblivious to the world. I did read a
definition of two kinds of spirituality once - there is the one kind, that
closes itself off from the world to find God, and then the other, that opens
itself up to the world, finding God in everything, eager for more and
more. I fit into the latter
category. And I do love traveling. Each time I get back from a trip to
somewhere, I'm eager to go off somewhere else.
I think I'm restless. And I
inherited a sort of restless Wanderlust from my father. It's my mom's fault that I'm Celtic. Celtics are also known to be on the
move. How can we find rest when we're
such restless souls? One of the riddles of
my life.
I met my husband Peter while in
Germany. I'm still there, and now we
have a 25-year-old son. I don't think I
came to Germany on pilgrimage, when I think about it. I think I was actually running away from the
bad things of my life in New York City, more than looking for God. But, they say, God has a sense of humor. God probably sent me there. It is, in many ways, the perfect place for me
to live. Life here is pleasant and
comfortable, and Cologne, the city where I live, is easy-going. Cologne is also only an hour away from both
the Belgian and Dutch borders. And only
six hours' drive from England.
***
Since Freddie asked me to write my blog for
Christmas time, I think I should tell you about one of my favorite trips at
Christmas time. We went away for a few
days, right in the middle of the week, in 1993.
I was living with my family in Brussels, Belgium. My sister had come to visit us for Christmas,
and I was excited about showing her a European Christmas. We were just getting used to our beautiful
home which even had a fireplace. I was
looking forward to opening up presents in front of a crackling fire. Later we were to do just that, but before that
day was to arrive, there were a thousand other things to do. I was singing in a madrigal choir - we had
just given a concert. I had
directed the children of my husband's
colleagues in a Christmas program. I was
an organist in our church, and I still had the entire Christmas Eve candlelight
service to prepare for. I had some English
students I still had to give lessons to (my main job is as an English
teacher). Then there were the presents
for my family. Our son, who was about
seven, had a long list of gifts he wanted me to buy, mostly toys. And there was the cooking, too. I was a pressure cooker about to
explode!
But I had a friend who owned a little house
in Canterbury, England, and she had agreed to let us stay there for a few days
before Christmas. I thought it was
probably crazy to go there at this time, with so much to do, but I agreed to
it.
"Mind you," she said, "the
house is very small. There is only one
room with a good view of the cathedral, and that's the bathroom."
Canterbury was only a stone's throw from
Brussels. Two hours at most on the
motorway, and then a short, restful, 1-1/2 hour ferry ride. Canterbury is only about a half-hour drive
from the ferry, once you dock at Dover.
Door-to-door, about four hours' drive from Brussels.
We arrived in the evening, walking into a
tiny, ice-cold house, but we were prepared to love it. It certainly had character. You had to heat up each room with gas
fireplaces. How English!
We all walked together into the
bathroom. The view made us stop and
stare. There was something romantic
about going into this of all rooms, the largest one of all, to gaze through the
black night at the cathedral, shimmering like silver, illuminated by
floodlights.
Then we went outside and checked out the
town. A river ran through it. Along the edge, and throughout the town, were
ancient half-timbered houses. The Christmas lights strewn over the pedestrian
zone in zig-zag fashion, were big round colored bulbs, not dainty and white
like those in Belgium or Germany. It
was a welcome novelty, looking at all that color. There was lots of greenery decorating the
shop doorways. We passed a doll store
with dainty porcelain dolls, some of them with real human hair. One of the dolls stole our hearts. She wore a red velvet dress, her skin was
pale, her hair long, curly, and black.
And she was on ice skates! We
bought it for my mother-in-law, who loved porcelain dolls.
We found a music shop and bought a tin
whistle. Then we went on a shopping orgy
for English foods at Sainsbury's, my favorite English supermarket. Sainsbury's is proof to me that the English
know how to cook a good meal after all.
And they bake well, too! We
bought things like shortbread, scones and clotted cream, a cream as thick as
butter, sinfully loaded in calories, but oh so good on desserts!
I've been asking my husband and son, who's
visiting us now for Christmas, what they remember of that little respite in
Canterbury. Their highlight is the same
as mine - a Vesper service at the cathedral, where we each found rest for our
weary souls, exhausted from preparing for Christmas.
I have always loved the Christmas music of
the English cathedral choirs the most of all.
When I was a teenager, my parents bought a couple LPs of English
cathedral choirs singing carols, and we used to listen to them each Minnesota
Christmas time as we decorated the Christmas tree together. I love the pure, innocent voices of the boys,
the intensity of timbre that pierces the heart.
I love the soprano descants soaring over the melody like birds. And I swear, I find the English versions of
the same carols lovelier than the American.
"Away in a Manger", "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks
by Night", "O Little Town of Bethlehem" - they all sound better
to me in the English version. My dream
was to go to England one day for Christmas.
Well, at least I was in England during the holiday season, even if it
wasn't for a Christmas service.
That evening we sat down in the ancient
carved oak choir stalls and waited in
the darkness for the choir and ministrants to appear. The church was dimly lit by candles and a few
chandeliers. The choir marched into the
sanctuary, singing a carol, dressed in white cassocks and black frocks, sitting
opposite us. Such beauty! Peace began to trickle into my heart as I
surrendered myself to the readings, to
Mary's prayer - the Magnificat, to the boys and men, undergirded by the solemn
pipe organ, to the music. I fervently
prayed the "Lord's Prayer", letting its words fill my heart. I marveled at how everything in England, at
least in the cathedrals, is real. Real
pine boughs decorate the altar. Real
poinsettias give color to the church.
You hear real pipe organ music, not a fake electronic imitation. Real oak choir stalls and pews have been
there for centuries. Real stone pillars
support the ceiling. Real boys sing,
real candles light the church.
Filling myself with the reality of God,
with the faith and peace this church has imparted for a thousand years, I found
rest. Refreshed, I left the church,
ready for the remainder of the Christmas challenges.
***
There is a modern English carol I have come
to love especially, written in 1947 by Elizabeth Poston. One of the stanzas in "Jesus Christ the
Apple Tree" (the text was written by an American from New England in 1784)
goes,
I'm
wearied with my former toil,
Here
I shall set and rest awhile;
Under
the shadow I will be,
Of
Jesus Christ the Apple Tree.
May we all find this kind of rest this
holiday season.
***
You can see a version of "Jesus Christ
the Apple Tree" sung here by perhaps the best cathedral choir of all,
Kings College Choir from Cambridge, England:
Here is a link to the Canterbury Choir
singing the music of Thomas Tallis, an English renaissance composer:
You can also get a good look at this
magnificent edifice.
And here is a glimpse of the medieval city
of Canterbury.
***
You can visit Noreen Nanz's blog at:
http://noreen-masterpieceinprogress.blogspot.com/
Author Bio:
Noreen is a Cologne-based author. She is an American of Cornish origin, married to a German and living in Germany. She has published a book entitled, "Betsy's Goodbye" which is now available and can be ordered online. Visit her blog 'masterpiece in progress' to read more of her stories.
