The Architect

In Munich, you cannot help but feel the grandeur of things. One day in this city is enough to be humbled (and I mean this both spiritually and financially).

This is the in first church of three we visited. I have been in some fiercely grand churches, and each one, construed in a different era all but completely unfamiliar to my own, is a gleaming icon of what is capable at the bequest of something greater. This particular one however, destroyed and restored at least once, is just meters from Odeonplatz, a stunning square guarded by timeless Bayern lions. And a square where Hitler staged his first grasp for power.

And honestly, what is our promise? Our endeavors, so fruitful in the eyes of God? Here in Germany, potential just seems that much closer at hand. The little stuff seems to filter into place; bakers own bakeries, the butchers pride their meats behind clean glass cases, and the second-hand man (who I'm not sure has ever begrudged anyone a bargain) has promised to find me the functional and cost-effective backpack I've been looking for when I come back next week. You don't tip. Not really, and though I do anyway, I am starting to wonder if it's insulting.

I wonder if American mega-churches will they one day evoke the same sense of greatness. Will endless cities converge around them, and when time tears at them, will they too be maintained to capture so much glorious light? Who will serve them drinks? And will they only be doing it to pay for college?

Munich sprawls out and away from the aged monoliths down the cobblestone paths. It is full of endeavor yet timeless achievement. I've seen just one drunken touristy drop, but it helps me dream of greater things.