The Past And Its Relics

Every nation has its own Babri Masjid.... France, Spain, England, Germany and many of the so-called civilised nations of the world live with their version of Babri Masjids-monuments new conquerors constructed to assert their might and power over the architecture of the defeated. Some of the most magnificent churches in southern Spain were built by Christian emperors over the elaborate mosques of the vanquished Moors. You can still see the Islamic arches under the Christian domes, as you once could see the iron pillars with Hindu lotus flowers under the Babri Masjid dome when it still existed.

Even France, where cheese, wine and fashion have evolved into a fine art, has its own Babri Masjids lurking in its past. The "Sacre-Coeur" or Sacred Heart church located on the highest hill in Paris is a major tourist attraction. In ancient times a temple lay on this hill and history books say it was possibly consecrated to the god Mercury. The magnificent Notre-Dame cathedral in Paris, the ‘gateway to heaven’, citadel of French catholicism and a must-see living monument for all visitors, "has distant pagan ancestors," admits Rev Claude Rechain, the cathedral’s archpriest. Nearly 2,000 years ago, Gallic and Roman gods were worshipped here.

That these nations have a past similar to ours is without doubt. But what is relevant is how they live with it. More than ‘civilised’, these nations are ‘secure’, so secure that they carry their history and religion lightly. The past is where it belongs-in the past. It does not intrude into the contemporary world. Predominantly Catholic France is called the elder daughter of the Roman Catholic Church. I happened to spend Easter vacation in Paris and was amazed to see how secular France is. Good Friday, the day Christ was crucified, is a day of mourning for Catholics. But in Paris, shops were open, the French and the tourists were all drinking wine and laughing, the Bistros and Brasseries were humming with activity, even those located right across the Notre-Dame cathedral. For most French people it clearly wasn’t a day of fasting and penitence. Those who chose to observe it as a day of mourning did so privately and unobtrusively. In the real sense, it was business as usual and those who wanted to enjoy themselves did. Nothing stopped them, neither the people nor their establishment. This was very different from Rome at Christmas time when everything, including shops, were closed for three whole days.

Not just for the faithful, but for any curious tourist, Good Friday is a good day to spend inside the Notre-Dame cathedral. The 800-year-old Gothic church is a marvel, with its stained-glass windows, exquisite chapels, paintings, pillars and organ that’s one of the biggest in the world with 7,800 pipes. The awesomely high-ceilinged cathedral is a symbol of the might of the Catholic Church, a symbol of power especially during the Crusades. But to me, it isn’t a symbol of the glory of power, it seems more a symbol of the gloom of power. And that could be simply because the architecture of the cathedral, though magnificent, doesn’t allow light to filter in sufficiently. One can’t but help wonder how many candles must’ve been used to light up the cathedral for the coronation of Napoleon Bonaparte. The heavy darkness in the church is perhaps symbolic of its age and history.

But this is how the Notre-Dame cathedral is all through the year, and it’s particularly special on Good Friday. Perhaps unknown to many, it’s one of the few days in the year when a very precious relic is shown to the public. Bearing his cross on his tragic final walk, Jesus Christ wore a crown of thorns-a band of woven rushes trimmed with thorns, a symbol of derision that mocking Roman soldiers crowned him with and which pierced his head and stained his suffering face with blood. This crown of thorns is today in the Notre-Dame cathedral and is shown on very rare, special occasions such as Good Friday. Of course, it is impossible to say for certain if this relic is authentic, although historical indications to its authenticity can be found from the fourth century onwards, when Saint Paulins of Nola mentions it among the relics kept in the basilica of Mt Sion in Jerusalem. In the 11th century, the crown of thorns was among the other relics transported from Jerusalem for safe custody in the Imperial Chapel in Byzantium, to protect them from the periodic plunderings witnessed during the Crusades.

IN 1238, Byzantium was ruled by the bankrupt Latin emperor, Beaudouin de Courtenay. To raise money, the emperor pawned the relics to rich bankers from Venice. Hearing of this, Saint Louis, King of France, intervened. He bought it off the bankers and had it brought to France. The original woven band of rushes had long, sharp thorns stuck in them. But over the centuries these thorns were given away as gifts by first the emperors of Byzantium and then by the kings of France. Seventy thorns are identified as having the same origin and being of the same substance.

The Notre-Dame cathedral has two other relics-a nail driven into Christ on the Cross and a piece of the Cross itself. On Good Friday, after the hour-long service at 3 pm that re-enacts Christ’s crucifixion, the relics are on public display at the rear of the altar. Hundreds of devotees and tourists throng the cathedral to have a glimpse of the sacred relics. Like headmasters, Church authorities discipline the crowd and let them in literally one at a time. But crowds are crowds, in a civilised nation or elsewhere. Impatience mounts and like boisterous children at an unruly school assembly, they jump over the barricades in their eagerness. The white-robed priests admonish the crowd and restore order, only for disorder to erupt again as they relax their vigil. Finally, after an interminable wait, one is within kissing distance of the relics, enshrined in glass cases. For a brief, poignant moment, one touches relics believed to be part of one of the most tragic stories of suffering.