Sean in Bozen
18 June 2006, part 2

Pretty much everything in Bozen shuts down from noon until 3:00 in the afternoon for the mid-day break. You have to get everything done between 9:00 and noon, or between 3:00 and 7:00. They just don't do the 24-hour shopping thing here. There are lots of people around town late into the evening, but only the restaurants and bars and cafes are open; if you need to buy anything else, you're out of luck. On Sunday, everything is closed except a few restaurants.

Not having anything else to do, I decided to go to the medieval church on the Walter von der Vogelweide Platz this morning to see what it was like. There are some services in German and some in Italian; the sign said that one of the services in German was at 10:00, so I went at 10:00. I wish I had known ahead of time that this was some kind of extra-special Sunday; I don't know what the occasion is on the Catholic calendar, but anyway, there was some huge deal which started at 9:00. I stumbled into the middle of something amazing.

The church is medieval in Gothic style; picture old stone, high pointed arches. The church was packed with people, and there was organ music and the most ethereal choir music going on when I went in. It was something you'd easily buy on a CD. It sounded like one of the things at the service had been first communion for a large group of small children.

If Hollywood or Broadway had pulled all the stops on putting on the most elaborate possible church scene, I doubt that they could have matched the quality of the music, the clothing, the pageantry, and the solemn dignity of the whole thing.

Not long after I got there, there began a long, long procession out of the church. There were groups of priests of different orders in their various embroidered robes and capes; groupings of nuns, with each group wearing the same kind of habit, some holding rosaries; long lines of young acolytes carrying candles on staffs or tall banners; two young men in robes waving thickly-smoking censers; women in traditional Tyrolean skirts and hats, men in knickers and various medieval-looking uniforms and outfits, and so on. Everyone looked very serious and solemn, except the group of little children who I think had just had their first communion.

There was one guy who seemed to be the coordinator for the whole thing, but he was not dressed like a priest. He had on a kind of flared felt top-hat, a long waistcoat, knickers, embroidered white socks, and black shoes with great big buckles. He had a beard, and curiously, he was wearing sunglasses. He moved quickly and solemnly from place to place, pointing everyone where to go.

When the organ music stopped and everyone was outside, I went out to see what was happening. There was a long procession standing like a parade, waiting to begin to move. Right in front of me was a priest holding the ornate, sunburst-shaped case with the consecrated host; he was surrounded by other priests. Above that group of priests was a richly embroidered canopy held up on poles by men in black capes, who only needed to add plumed hats to look like the Three Musketeers.

Finally the whole procession started to move. Up front were all the specially dressed people in various groupings, and at the end were maybe a couple hundred people in ordinary dress clothes. Everybody in the procession was chanting some prayer which I couldn't catch; the effect of all those hundreds of low voices chanting in unison as the people slowly walked was almost surreal. The procession make its way up into the narrow winding medieval streets of the old city. As they crossed the Domikanerplatz, all the busses had stopped to make way for the procession; one had the curious feeling that even the busses had their heads bowed.

There was an elaborate kind of marching band in the procession, and sometimes they played music. Some people crossed themselves as the consecrated host passed. It was quite a sight, with the many high banners fluttering in the wind, the canopy over the host, and all.

I went on other streets to try to get ahead of the procession so that I could see it pass. They ended up circling around to the Walter von der Vogelweide Platz, where I had seen the jazz band the other night. The guy with the tophat directed the various groups into their places on the square. The band played more music. Some of the priests were on the same stage where the jazz band had been. They read some scripture readings in German; I had no trouble understanding it, but it was very odd hearing those well-worn passages in something other than King James English. After various scripture readings and prayers, the whole procession made its way slowly back into the church. I followed along and sat in a pew to watch the rest of the service.

One little thing amused me. There was one grouping of nuns who must work in a hospital; they had white tight stockings, white shoes, and red crosses on their habits and wimples. They all got in the pew two rows ahead of me. Then I could see them whispering something to each other. They all changed where they had been sitting in the pew. I saw that they had epaulettes on their shoulders, and the epaulettes had stars on them. The reason they moved seats was to organize themselves accoring to rank: the one nun with three stars was closest to the aisle; next were the nuns with two stars, then those with one star, and last was one nun with no epaulette at all.

There was a little more speaking and then a hymn, and then it was over.

What an amazing show!