Templar Globe

A father and son codebreaking team have discovered music’s Holy Grail - hidden in intricate carvings at Rosslyn Chapel for almost 600 years.

Music teacher Thomas Mitchell, 75, strived for 27 years before he and pianist son Stuart, 41, deciphered symbols in the chapel which featured in the Da Vinci Code book and film.

The pair will reveal the secret songs in a special concert at the Midlothian chapel next month.

Thomas, of Edinburgh, said: “The music is the result of years of painstaking research, recreating secret notes hidden for almost 600 years in carvings on the arches within the chapel itself.

“We believe this is the Holy Grail of music and, unlike the Da Vinci Code, it is absolutely factual.”

Thomas was intrigued by the sculpted angels and hundreds of intricately carved cubes in the arches of the Lady Chapel.

Using skills learned as an RAF code-breaker during the Korean War and his lifetime knowledge of classical music, he finally realised they depicted the vibrations of musical notes. He said: “It was a Eureka moment to end all Eureka moments.

“Many angels were carrying musical instruments and some were even grouped as if they were a choir.

“But one angel gave me the biggest problem. He was carrying something and at first I thought it was musical instrument which had been lost in the mists of time.

“It was only when I realised that he was carrying a musical stave, the blueprint for all musical composition, that I knew I was looking at a secretly coded piece of music.

“By recreating the patterns on each of the carved cubes, with Stuart’s help, we unlocked the notes to find a haunting piece of music had been hidden in the arches for centuries.

“For the choral sections, we’ve used the words from the hymns to St John the Baptist taken from Matthew in the Old Testament which is fitting because the chapel itself is dedicated to St Matthew.”

Stuart, a classical composer and pianist, used computers to decipher the carvings’ secret music.

He has named the mediaeval music the Rosslyn Motet.

He said: “I also used authentic mediaeval instruments to recreate the music exactly and it truly is a masterpiece.

“While the Da Vinci Code was full of red herrings to make it a thrilling work of fiction, the Rosslyn Motet music is a tangible work people can listen to. For centuries, scholars have been convinced Rosslyn holds the key to many different areas of knowledge.

“We think we’ve cracked one particularly fascinating code, although we’re convinced Rosslyn holds many, many more.”

Four singers will join eight musicians playing mediaeval instruments to perform the Rosslyn Motet at Rosslyn on May 18.

Simon Beattie, of the Rosslyn Chapel Trust, said: “We’re looking forward to the event as this is a such an exciting and intriguing piece of work.

“The music is particularly haunting and we cannot help feel this is yet another of the many puzzles that make Rosslyn such an astonishing place.”

Rosslyn Chapel was built by Sir William Sinclair and Sir Gilbert Haye in the 15th century.

Steeped in the history of the Knights Templar and Freemasonry, Rosslyn’s mysteries are famous worldwide.

Among the theories surrounding Rosslyn is that it is the secret resting place of the Holy Grail, the Ark of the Covenant and even the mummified head of Christ.

HEAR IT @: To hear the music, click on to www.stuart-mitchell.com and follow the links to Music of Rosslyn Chapel. For concert tickets call Rosslyn Chapel 0131 440 2159.

HOW THEY DID IT..

1 Carved angels and blocks above their head in arches of chapel baffled Thomas until he realised this one was holding a musical stave - and that the blocks signified notes.

2 Using this specially enhanced photo, Thomas and Stuart worked out that the carvings above the angel represent A, B and C.

3 Thomas and Stuart used this metal plate to recreate the ancient method of making notes. The plate is vibrated and sand poured on until it forms a particular pattern - indicating the correct pitch. The patterns match those carved into the arches of Rosslyn Chapel.

By Marion Scott

Two weeks ago I took the family for a drive. We went north from Lisbon, along the western Portuguese highway, past Óbidos (I will post about this medieval village, its beautiful castle and its connections with King Dinis and the Templars in a dedicated chronicle). A few miles north lay the small town of Alcobaça that has been the quiet witness of many important events in the Portuguese history.

Alcobaça (alco-bass-ah) has been a settlement since Roman times. Two small rivers cross the city, Alcoa and Baça, which are said to have been the source of the name for the place. However this is not clear. The main focus of interest nowadays is the Cistercian Convent, built in a confluence of vast lands donated by King Afonso Henriques (first King of Portugal) to Saint Bernard of Clairvaux after the conquest of Santarém.

The present day frontal of the monument is a late XVIII century addition, but both the rose window and the arches of the portal remain the medieval ones. It’s still a very well preserved jewel of Cistercian Gothic art, with its very pure lines and beauty. It was one of the earliest Gothic buildings in Portugal and its medieval structure follows closely the one of the original monastery of Clairvaux.

The foundation of the monastery was part of the strategy by Afonso Henriques to consolidate his authority in the new kingdom and promote the colonisation of areas recently taken from Moorish hands during the Reconquista. In fact Alcobaça is well protected by the ream of Templar castles and Commanderies, with Leiria in the north, Tomar and Almourol in the west and Santarém and Alenquer in the south. One has to wonder if this well matched integration between defence by Templars and land owned by Saint Bernard’s monks isn’t a well crafted one, or just historical coincidence!

The connection between Bernard and the Templars is well known. The protection the Templars granted to King Afonso Henriques, which was returned as ownership of conquered land and castles, is also well known. What is not usually cited is the connection between Bernard and King Afonso Henriques.

In 1147 the Reconquista was well under way in the realms of Portugal. The court had its seat in Coimbra (about halfway between the north and south). From there, frequent military expeditions were sent to Moorish settlements and fortifications. The Templars were one of the King’s most important forces. Just three years before, in 1144, Pope Celestine II had granted them the right to collect their own funds, so this alliance with Henriques was strategically important. While fighting the Moors in Palestine was a primary mission for the Templars, although a very dangerous one carried on a politically complex environment, with many other European Lords and hordes fighting to advance their personal agendas of power an domination, conquering land in the West was significantly less dangerous and once the Order had land granted it was easier to keep it and administrate it, collecting rent and developing agriculture and commerce. One of the reasons for this is the way Henriques conducted his conquests. A fearsome soldier, with a fantastic reputation preceding him, in fact he tried to pact with the conquered population instead of going for the simple annihilation (as it was the case in Palestine and elsewhere). More often than not, this granted him the respect of submitted leaders, who became rapidly used to a relatively normal life under his ruling. We can still visit the Mouraria neighbourhood in Lisbon (literally translated as “Moorish quarter”), a testimony of how the integration was linear as it could be in medieval times. That might be the reason why Portugal finished its Reconquista and has relatively the same borders since 1249 while it took the Spanish kingdoms almost 250 years more, until 1492 to conquer their side of the peninsula.

So, in 1147 conquering Santarém, on the margins of Tagus river, was a very important achievement that would advance Henriques plans a lot. Just before the battle was fought, D. Pedro, half-brother to Henriques, who had visited Bernard in Clairvaux, told him about how Bernard could help them attract people to populate the conquered lands, developing agriculture and establishing medical care, which in turn would help in the advancement of the Reconquista. Since Henriques forces were fewer than the ones defending Santarém legend says he made a pledge to donate all the lands from the fortress westward to the sea, to the Cistercians and the Castle to the Templars if he won the battle.

The Christian troops came close to the castle in the night. It was well defended as expected. They attacked in the dark, mercilessly led by the King. As morning rose a new standard was flying over Santarém. King Afonso Henriques did has he had promised. The castle and all churches were given to the Templars. They governed Santarém for over a decade until they decided to trade it in favour of the newly conquered Tomar in 1160, although keeping a Commandery in Santarém. This kind of trade was made in other places in Iberia. Many times the Templars were given military strategic fortifications and land, only to give them back to the King years later when other, smilingly less important locations - certainly military less important - had been conquered and found favour with Templar leaders. It must have seemed odd to trade Santarém for Tomar. Santarém overlooks and guards the all important Tagus river, the single most important waterway in medieval Portugal. It guards (collecting tolls) the major roads from Lisbon to Coimbra and from the Alentejo to the north. Very, odd. A very coveted prize, given away for Tomar, in the margins of a very unimportant river, an affluent of the Tagus…

King Afonso Henriques also did as promised and a vast set of lands between Santarém and the sea were given to the Cistercians. Now, Bernard was also a very odd character! He could have chosen a number of strategic locations for his soon to be built monastery (indeed one of the largest of the Order). Several harboured ports are within their properties, providing good communication with the rest Christianity, for instance. However, his emissaries were instructed to pick a particular place, well inland, that Bernard described from a dream he had. He had never been to Portugal, or indeed Alcobaça, but he knew exactly where he wanted it. This has sparked people’s imagination and several legends grew in the middle ages about how the location was determined by divine intervention. We can still see in the Room of Kings several tiled representations of these legends in which we see Bernard in France with his monks predicting the King’s victory, alongside others where Afonso Henriques watches the monks draw the lines on the floor that will be used to erect the church, while, on the side, angles do the same, as if saying the place had been chosen by divine intervention and that Bernard’s monks were simply being guided by a superior force. Very original. I have never seen a similar type of iconography anywhere in the world. And for those who say ley lines were used to determine the location of certain special monuments, well Alcobaça seems to have been one such case. Indeed a river passes right under the monastery.

The building began in 1153, just before Bernard died. Nothing is left from these early works. Only in 1178 new, more extensive building started, probably under the guidance of a French architect and French builders. The vertical emphasis observed in the church is a typical gothic feature. Columns and walls are devoid of decoration, as required in Cistercian churches, and the interior is very brightly illuminated by rows of windows on the walls and rose windows on the main façade and transept arms. The main chapel, like in Clairvaux, is surrounded by a gallery (ambulatory) and has a series of radiating chapels. The aisles are covered by simple Gothic vaulting.

Alcobaça is one of the many medieval constructions in Portugal where the characteristic marks of stonemasons can be seen everywhere. It’s clear that operative masons working on the site used the marks system. It’s likely that Masonic operative lodges were active during this period. The church was completed in 1252. The finished church and monastery were the first truly Gothic buildings in Portugal, and the church was the largest in the country.

The last touch in the medieval ensemble was given in the late 13th century, when King Dinis (the one that “turned” the Order of the Temple in Order of Christ - more on this later) commissioned the construction of the Gothic cloister, the Cloister of Silence. Its columns are decorated by capitals with animal and vegetal motifs. The builders were Portuguese architects Domingo Domingues and Master Diogo. The gothic Fountain Hall has an elegant early renaissance water basin inside, decorated with renaissance motifs including coats-of-arms and reliefs of gryphs.

The monks in Alcobaça dedicated their lives to religious meditation, creating illuminated manuscripts in a scriptorium. The monks from the monastery produced an early authoritative history on Portugal, still highly regarded and a good source of historical information about the Order of the Temple. The library at Alcobaça was one of the largest Portuguese medieval libraries.

We will leave for the next chronicle the description of one of the most interesting features of Alcobaça. In the transept of the church are located the tombs of King Pedro I and Ines de Castro. Their love story deserves a chronicle of its own.

It is set in the middle of a XIV century Portugal, afraid of losing its independence to the Spanish crown. The Order of Christ had been founded in 1319 by King Dinis (grandfather of Pedro I), to take charge of the Portuguese Templar sites and knights and it had taken Castro Marin as its seat (Tomar would have been too obvious?). Several Templars were incorporated in the Order of Aviz (founded by King Afonso Henriques), an Order that will have an important presence throughout the Portuguese history, in close relation with the Templars and Order of Christ (allies, in great contrast with local relationship with Saint John/Hospital…). Indeed, the first Master of the newly formed Order of Christ was the Master of the Order of Aviz. To complete the moves that would make the Pope accept that the Templars would not be bothered in Portugal after 1314, King Dinis made the Order of Christ adopt the Cistercian rule and placed them under the spiritual guidance of none other than the Abbot of Alcobaça. I think this wouldn’t pass a close audit if it were done today! But it was effective, and the Order of Christ was established and approved by Rome. The seat was taken back to Tomar exactly as the young Pedro became King D. Pedro I of Portugal, in 1157 playing the lead role on one of the strangest episodes in Portuguese (maybe even medieval European) history.

See you next time.

LM

(Fotos by Luis de Matos)

Continues in Templar Chronicles III - Alcobaça 2

Good Link for 360º views of the Monastery

Es nuestra convicción que la historia es cíclica. Que, como la primavera despierta la vida que estaba en latencia bajo los fríos cuerpos inmuebles durante el oscuro invierno, así todo vuelve al punto de origen, todo muere y nace otra vez, todo repite la ciclicidad del Universo. Estamos destinados a reinterpretar nuestra historia. Estamos destinados a encontrar viejos enemigos, las mismas pruebas que hay que superar, los mismos vicios y peligros. Por fortuna, de cada vez que volvemos, estamos acompañados de los mismos verdaderos hermanos de siempre. Todo es círculo. Todo es cíclico.

Nuestros antepasados nos han dejado muchas de las reglas ocultas de la historia y de la naturaleza, cifradas en enigmas, leyendas y tradiciones. De todas las conocidas, para nosotros Templarios, pocas recobran más valor hoy día que las Leyendas de Arturo y sus Caballeros de La Mesa Redonda. Historias muy antiguas, que las cruzadas y la intervención de monjes Cistercienses y Templarios ayudaron a avivar en el Medioevo y que dejan un legado de tradición y conocimiento muy fértil, tesoro sin precio cuya clave está en la lectura y meditación sobre los arquetipos que les dan forma.

El mondo Templario está pasando por momentos conturbados. No - todo el mondo está pasando por momentos conturbados… Como no estaría el mondo Templario afectado?

Muchos me han pedido un comentario a la reunión que ha tenido lugar recientemente en Lima, Peru. En ella, un grupo de caballeros ha firmado su lealtad a su ombligo, en un documento que nada más sirve que para reconocer en su calidad usurpadora una figura patética y -por supuesto - ausente de la reunión. No me cabe, como Canciller de la Orden, hacer comentarios a hechos que, en el entender de algunos, echan a la basura años de arduo labor y la memoria de Hermanos Ilustres como Horacio, Alexandre, Barros, Alcántara entre otros. En funciones, solo puedo tomar actitudes coherentes con las que sean mis funciones. O sea, de la espada se defiende uno con la espada, pero de la palabra, con la palabra. Y como aquí vos hablo como Editor del Boletín Oficial de la Cancillería - sin espada, pero con pena - solo voy a recordar un pasaje de las Leyendas de Arturo que, mejor que alguna vez yo lo pudiera hacer, explican los hechos y hacen una previsión del resultado. Es que nada hay de nuevo en Lima. Todo ha ocurrido en el pasado muchas veces y nuestros Maestros Mayores se lo dejaron escrito para nuestro mejor entendimiento en cifras muy simples bajo el título de “leyenda”.

Antes de pasar a contar ese episodio tan ilustrativo, solo quiero recordar que nuestro Maestro elegido (palabra, que denota democracia, igual oportunidad y posibilidad de decidir quien debe gobernar; contraria a dictadura, imposición, herencia y despotismo), Fr+ Antonio Paris, a pesar de ausente de la mirada internacional por problemas personales, sigue siendo el Maestro que hemos elegido. Así como Ricardo Corazón de León era Rey de Inglaterra, aunque ausente en la Ciudad Santa en la Tercera Cruzada, y no cabía a que su hermano Juan lo traicionara buscando ocupar si silla, así hoy el Maestro sigue presidiendo sobre la Orden y no cabe al hermano - quien sea - Juan o no, buscar llenar el vacío con su propio ombligo. En el caso de que el Maestro se vea impedido de dar todo lo que su ánimo quiere dar a la Orden, será prorrogativa del Consejo Magistral y de los Priores (los que estén, claro) decidir sobre propuestas que haga el Canciller para el gobierno de la Orden. Para lo demás, atenten en las leyendas, precioso relato de lo que ha pasado y fidedigna previsión de lo que puede resultar si los hombres deciden no escuchar su voz interior antes de sus otras partes del cuerpo…

La Leyenda
Rumores corrían rápido sobre ese joven llamado Arturo, ahora reconocido por sus pares como Rey de Inglaterra. Morgana había jurado destruir el linaje de Uther Pendragon, y por sus artes de magia se ha introducido en la corte de Arturo sin que nadie se enterara que era su media-hermana. Arturo ha quedado alucinado por su belleza y, como que poseído por una indomable lujuria, la deseó con pasión. Por la mañana, cierta que había concebido un hijo, se marchó de Camelot antes que Arturo despertara. Nació así Mordred, frágil niño que, alimentado y cuidado por la vil Morgana, ha crecido fuerte, listo para destruir Arturo. Cuando Morgana ha hecho llegar noticia a Arturo de su nuevo hijo, este ha quedado en silencio. Merlín le explicó que ese hijo sería su destrucción y que con él llevaría a la ruina todo lo que Arturo pudiera construir. El fruto ilegítimo del amor carnal entre dos medio-hermanos (hijos de linajes distintas, pero hermanos en todo caso), aunque involuntariamente concebido, trae la punición incorporada en el acto, dice Merlín…

El tiempo pasa, Arturo inicia su demanda del Santo Grial con sus caballeros e casa con la bella Ginebra. Rey y Reina, por mucho tiempo, serán la imagen de la felicidad. Pero Ginebra no le da hijos y cuando Mordred llega a la edad en que debía ser educado en armas, Morgana lo ha manda a su padre Arturo, que lo recibe y mantiene en la corte. Además Ginebra se toma de pasión por Lanzarote y consuma su amor, en traición a Arturo. Lanzarote decide fugarse a Francia y Arturo lo persigue.

Aprovechando las tormentas personales de Arturo, mientras este está ausente en Francia, Mordred [(el fruto del amor entre medio-hermanos)] inmediatamente usurpa el poder de su padre, que lo había aceptado en la corte y, llamando Morgana a la corte, se instala en la silla de mando del Rey. Lo justifica con que él es el único hijo de Arturo y que devuelve el poder a su padre cuando vuelva. Pero así no ocurre. Ciego de poder, Mordred se corona Rey y decide obligar Ginebra a casar con él. Ginebra busca refugio en la Torre de Londres y Arturo, al tener noticia de los hechos, regresa a Inglaterra, donde se enfrenta a Mordred en la batalla de Camlann. “Oh! Desafortunado día este en que Caballeros hermanos se enfrentan de armas unos a los otros”, se lamenta Arturo antes de la batalla. Esta estaba ya profetizada desde el momento en que Arturo aceptó Morderd a su lado como si fuera lo que en realidad no era, no reconociendo el carácter destruidor que le iba dentro.

Ambas fuerzas luchan de manera feroz. Al final de todo un día de batalla ambas están destruidas y hay cuerpos por todo el campo de batalla. Del lado de Arturo solo dos hermanos viven [(2 hermanos y 1 caballo)]. Arturo busca el cuerpo de Mordred para certificarse que está muerto. Llora sus compañeros, llora la Orden de la Mesa Redonda destruida por la traición. Cuando encuentra su hijo este aún sigue vivo. Muy ferido, pero vivo. Arturo recusa usar la sagrada Excalibur para terminar con sus días, para no derramar su sangre sucia sobre ella. Usa una lanza, como la que ha traspasado Cristo, de la cual Mordred no se intenta desviar porque se cree protegido por la magia de su madre Morgana. Pero se equivoca. La lanza lo traspasa de manera fatal justo en el momento en que Mordred da un último golpe a Arturo. El golpe es profundo y Arturo muere poco después.

Con la muerte de Mordred, la paz no regresa a Camelot. Es que el mal es persistente. La leyenda lo que vaticina as que cuando otro venga después de Arturo - que, como muerto, es llevado para Avallon para curar sus heridas y para un día volver -, ese gobernante es obligado a cerrar el ciclo, decapitando cada uno de los hijos de Mordred para que el mal termine. Así termina la Morte de Arturo.

Última Reflexión
No tengo ilusiones sobre el grado de inteligencia de los que ponen la Orden en peligro para seguir sus ambiciones. Con esto lo que digo es que, a lo mejor no van a comprender el paralelo con la leyenda. Solo me cabe comentar que, documentos espurios, que dan existencia a organizaciones transnacionales espurias, firmados por medio-hermanos de líneas diferentes llevado por la lujuria del poder y inebriados por la aparente ausencia del titular legítimo, a lo largo de la historia han tenido siempre el mismo fin. Así como Morgana, que se queda de fuera la mayor parte del tiempo, usa las armas de seducción y, al concebir Mordred está precipitando el fin de la Orden de la Mesa Redonda, así en el tema de Lima hay personajes importantes ocultos en las sombras, que han concebido el “Acuerdo”, germen de la división entre los hermanos. Así como Mordred se creía invencible por protección de su madre, así los que están bajo la protección de dichos personajes se creen invencibles. La leyenda les da la llave. Así como Mordred toma el poder y busca obligar Ginebra a casar, hay quienes hayan dado como cierto que Prioratos iban a firmar (o firmarán en el futuro) un acuerdo de que no han hecho parte y que es una usurpación igual a la de Mordred! Pero, leed con atención y más lecciones importantes podéis sacar de esta fuente cristalina e inmortal. Puede que sea irreversible. Puede que la ruina esté ante nosotros y que nuestro Arturo esté siendo traído por sus hijos. Que sea. Los que se queden después de la destrucción y de la batalla de hermanos contra hermanos, sabrán cortar las cabezas que les toquen para cerrar el ciclo.

Y la primavera vuelve.

Non Nobis Domine Non Nobis, Sed Nomine Tuo Da Gloriam

Tradition is an important reservoir for the transmission of both the Teaching and the ordinary religious life of the faithful in the Catholic Church. However, the diminishing active youth presence in the church poses a big threat to this important aspect of the Church.

The handing on of tradition demands two parties; the giving and the receiving one. The church must be proud of the presence of the committed members, but quite advanced in age, who are there ready to pass on the faith. On the contrary, there is sharp break in the generations so that you get the impression the members of some Church communities are deliberately selected from among the old.

This is a well-known phenomenon in the western Church but by no means is it an exclusively western problem. The churches I attend in Jerusalem betray this same problem. Don’t I seem to forget Catholics are minority here, and hence that only to be expected?

I’m conscious Christians here in Jerusalem are a minority, split between Western and Eastern churches, with Eastern churches further fragmented into pockets of denominations and rites. I don’t consider that a problem as such; at least not here. But such a diminished presence of the youth, especially at mass I find it severely unfortunate.

At Notre Dame de Jerusalem, you find an impressive presence of young people but then quickly you realise the point. You are in Jerusalem but once inside the church you feel you are somewhere in the Philippines; over Ninety-five percent of those at mass are Philipino immigrant workers, then pilgrims and some religious –that’s all. That does not give a local flavour.

St Xavier’s is a Latin, Roman Catholic Parish. Here, I attend the mass in Arabic for the local community. At a glimpse, I straightaway feel the gap –where are the youth?

I also go to Greek Catholic Church, Melkites, which is one of the Eastern churches in communion with Rome but with its own Byzantine rites.

Here I like sitting at the back, and at times distract myself a bit to count the people. We hardly exceed 50. Occasionally, the number suddenly swells to over sixty but drops before the mass ends.

Pilgrims, or tourists, hard to distinguish, come in. They are fascinated by icons all round the walls and ceiling of the church; amazed at the priest who presides at mass, not only facing them the back but also from a separate room, sanctuary, certainly not the type of the Catholic Mass they know today. Once their curiosity is satisfied and having taken the pictures they want, discreetly they leave at whatever stage of the mass –their pilgrimage, perhaps tourism, continues elsewhere.

The community here is very small, and the absence of the youth is even worse. This is indeed a future threatening affair.

This situation of the church is quite a different case with Islam.

Whenever I look out through my bedroom window, that opens in the street leading to the Mosque of Omar, one of the most sacred Shrines in Islam, about 300metres away; I see mothers pushing prams, young girls well done in veils, and small boys trailing behind their fathers precipitating to the mosque, especially on Fridays. I marvel at this enthusiasm of passing on religious tradition; imbuing children with it at tender age. In this way, the fire of Islam keeps ablaze and the future assured.

With this concern in mind; one thought always comes, perhaps, we could profit from our encounter with Muslims; they can teach us.

We Catholics strongly believe in tradition. Yet when I see the generation gap immediately I know something is seriously wrong. Tradition is at risk. Don’t we believe in it anymore?

Tradition is not just at the magisterial level, apostolic succession and handing on of the apostolic teaching but very much also the holy life of the ordinary faithful. That has to be transmitted too.

Secondly, Islam is a religion not so much left to the professional Pray-ers or few pious individuals. Men and women, old and young are all active practise the religion wherever they are, and not necessarily at the mosque. This has fascinated me.

When I drove through the desert in the north of Mali, all of a sudden I could see a herd of cattle apparently all by itself. I nearly began to marvel at the freedom in the desert given even to domesticated animals to roam without a shepherd. But then, I could see in some bush, a small boy on his knees, bend forwards with the forehead touching the ground and then backwards; then, standing up, he raises open hands high with a gaze in the clear, blue sky –the boy was at prayer. Yet, that was happening far away from parents. On his own, he committed himself to the discipline of prayer five times a day.

Without ignoring the well bred of our catholic youth, often when we see a child like that one suggestion is obvious: why don’t you become a sister, brother or priest? That is, to become a professional pray-er. It betrays our mentality.

This youth issue is a tumour spreading wide and far. The only difference being that in those places where there are still crowds at mass the problem is subtle; you are deceived into not appreciating it easily.

Perhaps, we can benefit from our encounter with Muslims; learn from them how they manage to instill and maintain this sense of prayer, sense of family belief. What is their strategy? But first, we need to acknowledge their success.

Perhaps, this is just another important element we hardly hear about or Christians are shy about in the Inter-religious dialogue with Muslims. I feel the first step would be to congratulate them; it’s only being open to their success; they are flourishing.

Indeed, it’s high time we faced the truth that we seriously need to address the place of the youth in the Church if we are to pass on and preserve the treasure of our religious heritage.

By Evans K. Chama (c) 2007
Missionary of Africa, studying theology in Jerusalem

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A word from the editor:

Dear Templar Globe Readers:

We welcome today a new writer to the Globe. Evans K. Chama is a great addition to our Blog, with his interesting writing and views on subjects that are of great interest to the contemporary Templar. Evans lives in Jerusalem, just overlooking the Temple Mount. That is why we chose to title the series of texts “My Bedroom Window Over Jerusalem”. In them we will have an insight into one of the most interesting cities in the world, its culture, its mix of religions and traditions, the general daily events that make one reflect upon life and the relationship with other faiths, history, politics, the lot. We invite you to enjoy this Window view” as much we do.

Luis de Matos
Editor
Chancellor of the OSMTHU

Sosegada, fría y pura por definición, apacible reflejo de sí misma, pocas ciudades como Soria cuentan con una larga tradición de haber sido descubiertas y recreadas poéticamente. Asentada sobre un collado que forman dos cerros fronteros, en la orilla derecha del Duero, este lugar donde se resume y ahonda la esencia castellana tiene en Bécquer, Antonio Machado y Gerardo Diego a sus cantores mayores.

El propio Antonio Machado ya lo advierte: “Soria es una ciudad para poetas. Soria es, acaso, lo más espiritual de esa espiritual Castilla, espíritu, a su vez, de España entera”. Desde el anónimo juglar del Poema del Cid hasta Sánchez-Dragó o Javier Marías, pasando por una extensa nómina de escritores que, sólo entre los contemporáneos, incluiría a Galdós, Azorín, Unamuno, Baroja, Ridruejo, Ángela Figuera, Delibes y tantos otros, en el continuo transcurrir del tiempo a Soria nunca le han faltado poetas que la evoquen, que la invoquen y que la inventen desde la plenitud de la emoción y el fulgor de los sentidos. Se diría que Soria, más que una ciudad tangible, parece un perenne motivo literario.

LEYENDA
A comienzos de 1861 conoció Bécquer a la que había de ser su esposa, Casta Esteban, “la miel y la hiel” de su vida, de quien se cuenta que tuvo amores adúlteros con un bandolero. Era hija de un médico de la localidad soriana de Noviercas, a quien el poeta había ido a consultar sobre sus dolencias. Desde entonces y por espacio de casi siete años, Bécquer, en compañía de su hermano Valeriano, visitó y residió en diferentes pueblos sorianos –Noviercas, Pozalmuro, Ágreda, Vozmediano, Berantón…– y en la capital misma. Una placa situada en la Plaza de Ramón Benito Aceña, en un extremo de la popular y peatonal calle del Collado, recuerda cuál fue su casa, varias veces destruida y rehecha hasta quedar convertida en apenas un vago recuerdo del pasado, alzándose ahora sobre las impersonales oficinas de un banco. La Soria que Bécquer nos transmite es fantástica y legendaria. Para encontrarnos con sus ecos hemos de acudir a la orilla del río hasta llegar, primero, a San Juan de Duero, el monasterio de la Orden de los Hospitalarios, monjes protectores de caminantes, peregrinos y desvalidos, al pie del Monte de las Ánimas. Allí sitúa Bécquer la leyenda del mismo título que sucede una noche de Todos los Santos, entre amenazantes sombras y temibles cadáveres de templarios resucitados.

Las columnas del claustro, a cielo abierto, de principios del siglo XIII, con capiteles poblados por animales prodigiosos, escenas humanas, motivos vegetales y geométricos, fueron testigos de una de las últimas representaciones de La Barraca lorquiana. La última fue en el vecino Almazán, donde yacen los restos de Tirso de Molina.

El fraile dramaturgo había llegado la primera vez a Soria en 1608, en un discreto destierro, y residió en el Convento de la Merced, actual Fundación Duques de Soria, llegando a ser su comendador en 1646, dos años antes de su muerte. Pero la más plena ambientación soriana de las Leyendas de Bécquer la encontramos en El rayo de luna, una historia de amor imposible, visionario y delirante, que el poeta sevillano sitúa en el templario monasterio de San Polo, siguiendo el curso del Duero, entre álamos y chopos.

De San Polo, actualmente de propiedad particular, parte el camino a San Saturio, la ermita del siglo XVIII enclavada en la roca y volcada sobre las aguas del río en un auténtico prodigio de equilibrio en mitad de la ladera de la sierra. La tradición cuenta que quien se asoma a la cavidad donde estuvo el nicho del santo alejará para siempre los dolores de cabeza. No sólo Bécquer, también Machado y Gerardo Diego harían del camino junto al Duero que conduce a la ermita uno de sus itinerarios predilectos del que sus versos dan emocionado testimonio. En la piedra de la ladera, a la izquierda del paseo antes de subir los 101 escalones de la ermita, queda constancia machadiana de las “cifras que son fechas”, de la verdad de la palabra que prevalece contra la usura del tiempo.

MEMORIA
Apenas 7.000 habitantes contaba Soria cuando Antonio Machado se estableció en ella en 1907. Ahora tiene unos 35.000, la segunda ciudad española, después de Teruel, de más baja densidad de población. Machado había ganado las oposiciones a la cátedra de francés del instituto gracias, curiosamente, al equívoco de Julio Cejador, que votó doble pensando que votaba a Antonio y a Manuel Machado.

Los cinco años que pasó el poeta en Soria forman parte ineludible de la memoria de la ciudad y de la literatura. En la calle Estudios estaba la pensión donde conoció a Leonor, la hija de los dueños, que apenas contaba 13 años. Con ella se casaría en julio de 1909 y pasarían a vivir en Teatinos. La boda fue en la Iglesia de Ntra. Sra. La Mayor, en los aledaños de la Plaza Mayor, donde se concentran el edificio de Los Doce Linajes, de 1628, actual Ayuntamiento, el antiguo consistorio con el reloj que cantara evocadoramente el poeta, y la Torre de Doña Urraca. Aquel matrimonio escandalizó a muchos, que veían alguna oscura perversión en la acusada diferencia de edad. Incluso hay testimonios de cencerradas nocturnas y de los abucheos que “jóvenes ineducados” les dedicaron en la estación cuando los novios partieron en su viaje de bodas. Ya no quedan restos de las casas donde vivió Machado, pero su presencia sigue viva en numerosos puntos. Sobre todo en el instituto donde enseñó, un antiguo convento jesuita de más de 150 años, hoy bautizado con su nombre.

Una escultura del poeta, obra de Pablo Serrano, se alza frente a la arcada lateral. El instituto conserva intacta el aula donde impartió sus clases. En el patio del claustro crece, desmesurado, un olivo que compite con el de la Plaza homónima, importado. Son los únicos olivos de Soria. Casi enfrente de la entrada del instituto, en el número 11 de la calle Aduana Vieja, se encuentra la casa de la Condesa Viuda de Ripalda, madre de Jaime de Marichalar, abuela de Froilán. Las cadenas que cuelgan de su balcón indican que allí durmió un rey, Alfonso XIII, cuando acudió a la ciudad en 1919 para inaugurar el Museo Numantino. Bajando la calle está el Palacio de los Ríos y Salcedo, con una singular e insólita ventana en esquina. Junto al palacio de los Condes de Gómara son espléndidas muestras de la arquitectura del Renacimiento.

El itinerario machadiano reclama subir la calle Caballeros, con sus fachadas blasonadas, y pasar ante la Diputación, con las estatuas de ocho sorianos ilustres en su frente. Uno de ellos es sor María de Jesús, que se veía a sí misma predicando a los indios de México sin salir nunca del pueblo de Ágreda. Su fama atrajo a tierras sorianas incluso al célebre Casanova. Casi enfrente, San Juan de Rabanera, iglesia románica que encantó a Gerardo Diego. Al final de la subida aguarda Ntra. Sra. del Espino, a cuya sombra aún resiste tambaleante el viejo olmo “hendido por el rayo”. En el cementerio anexo se encuentra la tumba de Leonor.

ESENCIA
Catorce años después que Machado, en 1920, Gerardo Diego ocupó la cátedra de literatura en el mismo instituto aunque, incomprensiblemente, ninguna placa allí lo atestigua. Sí queda la que recuerda su residencia en la pensión de Las Isidras, en el antiguo número 79 de la calle del Collado, auténtico centro vivo y vital de la ciudad. Dos años residió el poeta santanderino en la capital soriana, donde comenzó a gestar su Soria sucedida.

Los itinerarios de Gerardo Diego se superponen y confluyen con los de Machado. En el Casino se evoca esa doble presencia. Un Casino que en su origen eran dos hasta su fusión, en 1964: el Numancia, en la planta alta, más exquisito y sofisticado, que frecuentaba Gerardo Diego, y el Círculo de la Amistad, en la baja, popular y republicano, el lugar habitual de Machado. Aún se conserva el piano que tocaba Gerardo Diego, un Steinway de 1869, con las teclas de marfil reemplazadas por pasta en alguna de sus restauraciones. Los hitos, mojones de piedra con fragmentos de sus versos, dan fe de esa fascinación que también sintió este poeta por una Soria pura y sosegada, hondo reflejo de sí misma, esencia de la tierra castellana.

por Sabas Martín, elmundo.es

Lydia Itoi walked in the path of pilgrims who sought forgiveness along the 780-km trail called El Camino de Santiago. Unlike them, she knew where to eat.

“Welcome, pilgrim,” says the ragged knight in the dirty white cape, thrusting a burning tiki torch into my hand. “You’ve come just in time.”

It is 11 a.m. on Day 26: 558 km into my 780-km walk across Spain on the great medieval pilgrimage route called El Camino de Santiago. The Way of St. James is not a single trail but a cobweb of paths threading through Europe to Santiago de Compostela on the northwestern coast of Spain, where the body of Santiago (St. James the Apostle) is said to have been miraculously discovered in the early 9th century. I’ve just trudged into Manjarín, a ruined pueblo slowly dissolving back into the misty mountainside, stone by stone. After three weeks of blisters, cramps and tendonitis, I feel about ready to dissolve myself.

That’s when I encounter Tomás Martínez de Paz, Manjarín’s most prominent (and only) permanent resident and a modern legend on the ancient trail. His thick white cape, emblazoned with the blood-red cross of the medieval Knights Templars, is tied over a camouflage vest. Under his arm he carries a broadsword wrapped in duct tape. When he tells me I’m just in time, I’m hoping he means time for coffee. But Tomás hustles me over to his pilgrim refugio, a derelict pile of granite with almost a whole roof. The yard is decorated like a paramilitary camp for Woodstock survivors. Flags fly over the rubble; across an old satellite dish someone has scrawled bring the soldiers home now! A stack of direction signs — santiago, 222 km; rome, 2,475 km; machu picchu, 9,453 km — lets me know precisely how far I am from nowhere.

Tomás pushes me in front of a harried young couple trying to hold a banner and a squirming little girl at the same time. Still wearing my pack and gripping the tiki torch, I stand at awkward attention while Gregorian chants and hymns of social protest crackle from a cassette player that wanted to give up the ghost long ago. As Tomás clangs a bell with his sword and prays for peace in Iraq, a riptide of delirium washes over me. My knees, calves and ankles seize up. I try not to collapse or set anything on fire.

Tomás, it turns out, once lived an ordinary middle-class subversive’s life in Madrid. About 10 years ago, he left his family and proclaimed himself the last of the Knights Templars, the secretive order of medieval warrior monks who protected Christian pilgrims. The Templars disappeared after they were denounced and burned at the stake in 1307, but Tomás has lifted their standard over Manjarín. People can’t decide whether to call him a saint or a madman. But if he is a modern-day warrior monk, I could use a little protection.

Let’s face it, “pilgrim” is an eccentric title these days. Tomás may be a bit quixotic, but I’ve got the traditional talismans of a Santiago pilgrim: a scallop shell, a bottle gourd and a walking stick — even if my stick happens to be a telescoping aluminum trekking pole. I’ve taken my place among the millions of pilgrims who have walked El Camino since the 9th century to pray at the saint’s tomb. Over the last 400 years or so, the river of the faithful had slowed to a trickle, but now foot traffic is picking up again, as thousands of people — some propelled by religious fervor, others by a taste for adventure — attempt the Everest of Western pilgrimages. Making the journey today means following a dusty, stony footpath marked by graffiti yellow arrows when most of the world, including good stretches of the original pilgrims’ way, has been paved over. It means checking contemporary secularism at the Romanesque church door and learning to go on faith.

But by anybody’s standards, I am an unlikely pilgrim. As a food writer and professional hedonist, I spend most of my free time in temples of gastronomy, not tabernacles and certainly not gyms. My idea of adventure is telling the waiter to surprise me. So why am I here? I confess that I began my pilgrimage with an impure motive: to commit the sin of gluttony by eating my way across Spain, then walking it off. Camino purists preach culinary self-denial, but it’s not for me. The trail runs through the most delicious landscapes in Spain: Basque country, garlanded with piquant red pimientos hung out to dry; the Rioja vineyards, where I imagined myself feasting on sun-sweetened grapes and spitting out the seeds as I walked; Castilla, with its tender milk-fed lamb and roast suckling pigs; and the final reward of Galicia, with its glorious shellfish feasts starring scallops, the symbol of Santiago himself. Other pilgrims carried lists of recommended refugios; I carried a list of must-eat restaurants.

(more…)

The good sisters of Arenberg, a Dominican convent in Koblenz in western Germany, aren’t getting much peace and quiet these days. Workmen clamber over the scaffolding that covers the convent’s 19th century brick buildings, while earth-moving equipment attacks the frozen ground. But the noisy work serves a worthy goal — offering the benefits of the contemplative life to an audience of paying customers. The Arenberg convent’s once somber guesthouse and sanatorium are being transformed into a bright and airy “wellness and meditation center.” Why? It was a matter of financial life and death, explains Sister Maris Stella, the prioress. The sisters could no longer afford to live off the subsidies they receive from their order, so the 65 Dominican nuns (whose average age is about 70) resolved to turn the convent into a profitable, self-supporting enterprise. “We had to decide whether we wished to live or die,” Sister Maris Stella says. “We wished to live.”

The Arenberg sisters’ predicament is shared by religious communities throughout Germany. Between 1970 and 2001, the number of nuns in Germany has declined from about 70,000 to 30,000. As fewer faithful take holy orders, the average age of nuns and monks is increasing, meaning that fewer and fewer clergy are able to perform work in the hospitals, sanatoriums and other institutions owned by their orders. Higher-paid nonreligious personnel have to be employed to do their jobs. To cope with these new economic realities, an increasing number of Germany’s 3,300 Catholic monasteries are opening businesses — and finding willing customers. “More and more people, especially from high-pressure professions, feel the need to escape from hectic everyday life,” says market researcher Joachim Scholz from the German National Tourist Board in Frankfurt-Main. The Arenberg sisters hope that people from all faiths will flock to their center. The visitors will find a peaceful, shady herb garden and candle-lit chapel overlooking the rolling, wooded hills of the Eifel region, beckoning them to sit, relax and think. At a 70% occupancy rate, they could bring the order €2 million a year.

Some monasteries simply allow guests to take part in daily prayers, while others offer meditation and bible classes, physical exercise courses and spiritual counseling. “The cloisters have realized that they have a product they can market: a meaningful way of life,” says Arnulf Salmen, press spokesman for the Association of Superiors of German Orders, an umbrella organization for German monasteries.

The people who come to Frankfurt’s I-Punkt, an information center run by the Catholic Church, are in search of a meaningful way of life — at least for a long weekend. At I-Punkt, clients “wish to have some quiet and peaceful time to find themselves,” says Sister Dolores, a Franciscan nun who works at the shop. Several hundred people book a cloister stay each year, she says, but demand has increased so much that some monasteries have begged to be taken off the agency’s list.

Monastic entrepreneurs are using the Internet to reach customers. The busy Benedictine monks at the Ettal monastery in Upper Bavaria are not only selling their famous beer and herb liqueur online, they are even planning to install a couple of webcams so customers can see the splendid Baroque basilica. “We live on tourism,” says Brother Georg, the website’s administrator. “That’s why we want to show people the beauty of the monastery.”

The five brothers at the St. Franziskus monastery in Dietfurt, Bavaria, offer a variety of Zen, qigong [a form of Chinese exercise and meditation], and tai chi classes as well as Christian contemplation. Father Nathanael, St. Franziskus’ guardian, thinks Eastern wisdom and Christianity go well together. “Zen is a form of meditation that can lead to other levels of consciousness,” he says. “We supply the spiritual basis.”

Critics argue that making a business out of spirituality demeans the faith. But the clergy say there is much more than their own financial welfare at stake. The mission of the Dominican nuns, for example, is “the salvation of the world.” If saving the world means a convent needs a pub, phytotherapy sessions and a jacuzzi, then Arenberg’s Sister Maris Stella says so be it. “We tried to find out what people need today and then offer them new forms of spiritual guidance and assistance to find it,” she says. God does work in mysterious ways.

by URSULA SAUTTER/KOBLENZ, in Time.com

Quizá en ningún lugar del mundo se mezclan tanta historia, leyendas, misterios y pasiones como en la Explanada de las Mezquitas de Jerusalén. Contemplada desde enfrente, desde el Monte de los Olivos, con sólo el valle del Cedrón por medio, es de una belleza impresionante. El sol que reluce sobre la cúpula dorada de la Mezquita de Omar, construida en el lugar que ocupó el templo judío, prodigio de equilibrio geométrico que han tratado de copiar sin éxito numerosas iglesias en Europa; la colosal Mezquita de Al Aqsa; la conjunción perfecta de espacios, árboles, fuentes para las abluciones; todo aparentemente tranquilo y respirando sosiego y paz. Pero cuando uno se acerca empiezan las dificultades. Si se es musulmán es muy probable que los soldados judíos no le permitan ni acercarse si tiene menos de 50 años. Si no pertenece a esta religión, tendrá que buscar la puerta adecuada, la hora y el día pertinente. Y no es sencillo, porque en esta explanada hay mucho más de lo que se aprecia a primera vista.

Ante todo, tiene un mundo subterráneo en el sentido literal de la palabra. En efecto, Herodes planeó una explanada de dimensiones mucho mayores que la colina, y construyó unas bóvedas en el sur y en el este para poderla edificar encima. De buena parte de este mundo subterráneo sólo tenemos noticias por los visitantes ingleses del siglo XIX, porque más tarde la autoridad musulmana impide totalmente el acceso. En 1972, acompañando al Padre Benoît, un biblista francés que residía en Jerusalén y gozaba de un altísimo prestigio ante la autoridad musulmana, pude entrar en los subterráneos surorientales, un espacio enorme abovedado, de origen herodiano, que los cruzados usaron como establo para los caballos de su ejército. Además, pasadizos y escaleras, cisternas para el agua del Templo, y canales por los que puede pasar una persona erguida.

¿Qué pensar de la revuelta ocasionada por el intento de la municipalidad de Jerusalén de sustituir la actual rampa que lleva a la puerta de los Magrebinos? Se trata del acceso al recinto para los no musulmanes. La rampa es insegura y su sustitución por una metálica, además de ventajas prácticas, liberaría espacio para el notable parque arqueológico del entorno. El acceso actual es un terrón estrecho, acumulación de sedimentos bizantinos, omeyas, medievales y modernos, de escaso interés según me dicen arqueólogos de Jerusalén (no judíos), bajo el que existe un magnífico espacio arqueológico. En este lugar, la arqueología está muy frecuentemente al servicio de proyectos nacionalistas o ideológicos.

Se puede objetar que los estratos superiores han sido destruidos casi totalmente y que se han sacado a la luz los restos herodianos del siglo I. Y es verdad que las construcciones herodianas son consideradas como las de mayor valor arqueológico. Pero la desconfianza y el recelo de los musulmanes es muy explicable. Piensan que las excavaciones pueden ser ocasión para penetrar en la explanada por sus oquedades subterráneas. Y desconfían de la valoración arqueológica de los hallazgos. Y lo que es más grave: todo ese espacio arqueológico en el entorno exterior de la explanada se descubrió cuando, después de la conquista de la zona por el ejercito judío en la Guerra de los Seis Días (1967), se derribó el modesto barrio árabe que allí estaba y se excavó rápidamente, conculcando las normas que debe respetar un ejército ocupante. Claro que Israel cuenta con el permiso de su dios y, sobre todo, con el apoyo incondicional de Estados Unidos para hacer caso omiso del derecho internacional y de las declaraciones de la ONU. Para los judíos, la explanada es ‘el Monte del Templo’ de Salomón que cantan con emoción en sus salmos.

El lugar fue ocupado por los musulmanes en el siglo VII, y los cruzados lo conquistaron en el año 1100, y convirtieron las mezquitas erigidas por los árabes en iglesias. Allí residía el rey cristiano, que cedió después el lugar a la Orden del Temple (templarios), quienes dieron nombre al espacio. Es Saladino quien lo recupera para el islam en 1188, y así permanece hasta nuestros días. La Explanada de las mezquitas para unos, el Monte del Templo para otros, lugar donde se sitúan numerosas enseñanzas y episodios de la vida de Jesús, leyendas de Mahoma e innumerables tradiciones judías. Lugar de condensación de emociones religiosas que pueden estallar en cualquier momento. Realizar un gesto que pueda interpretarse como religioso y no musulmán -leer la Biblia, por ejemplo- acarrea una bronca entre gestos amenazantes.

Las consecuencias de los trabajos en la rampa de la Puerta de los Magrebinos, en sí mismos de poca importancia, revela que los odios, la desconfianza y las heridas siguen abiertas, y que se agrandan cada vez más. Se desea que las religiones se entiendan y sean un factor de paz. Me conformaría con que ni la Biblia ni el Corán pretendan ponerse por encima de la razón universalizable, único medio para conseguir una modesta, imperfecta, pero valiosísima paz de la que Jerusalén carece hoy y ha carecido prácticamente a lo largo de toda su historia milenaria.

Por RAFAEL AGUIRRE ÁLVARO SÁNCHEZ
en Elcorreodigital

Hello,

I’m the Chancellor of the OSMTHU, editor of these pages.

For a long time I have been researching the net to bring you the latest about Templar news, research, debates and activities from a wide range of sources. I have had great encouragement from most of our readers and a few interesting suggestions have been taken on board and will be incorporated in the Templar Globe in the future.

It has been my wish since the beginning to help our readers access information about the Order - past and present - that is not readily available in a systematic way from other sources. I always thought that the readers should benefit from the fact that I was born in Portugal and that - as many of you know - in my country we hold some of the most interesting and unexplored Templar sources, stories, traditions, documents, sites and treasures that have been left from ancient times and sometimes defy our understanding.

After you have dwelled a bit into the Templar legacy, it is clear that, while France was the political, financial centre of the historical Templar Order, Portugal became, alongside Scotland and provinces of Spain, their refuge and harbour of retreat. The sea power that the Templars were in 1307 - then vanishing from sight - reappeared in the visionary work of Prince Henry the Navigator, head of the Order of Christ, a few decades later.

However, there are many details that are not available to the researcher because only Portuguese historians, publishing in Portuguese, have written about them, and although many of these are extremely significant and provide explanations to many of the questions remaining about the Order of the Temple, there is no trace of them in most of the reference books about the subject.

With this series of postings generally titled Templar Chronicles, I want to take our readers in a few voyages around Portugal, to sites of great interest and portions of history that are - except for locals - partially unknown. We had a poet called Fernando Pessoa who said that we are born in Portugal either with a mission or as a punishment. The mission is closely tied with the Templars. The punishment is to fail the mission.

Background Information
First let me present Portugal during the XII century (edited from wikipedia articles for convenience):

Portugal is a European nation whose origins go back to the Early Middle Ages. In the 15th and 16th centuries, it ascended to the status of a world power during Europe’s “Age of Discovery” as it built up a vast empire including possessions in South America, Africa, and Asia.

At the end of the 11th century, after having taken part in the conquest of Jerusalem alongside Geofrey de Bullion, the Burgundian knight Henry became count of Portugal, a small territory in the west, under the kingdom of Leon. Henry wanted it to become independent, but died without achieving his aims. His son, Afonso Henriques, took control of the county. In 1126, before the Council of Troyes or Saint Bernard’s proclamation, the Templars are granted the first possessions in Portugal.

On June 24, 1128, Afonso Henriques, Count of Portugal, fearing that the pending marriage of his widow mother with a nobleman from Leon would pose a threat to his ambitions, fought and defeated his mother, Countess Teresa, and her lover, Fernão Peres de Trava, in battle - thereby establishing himself as sole leader and Prince of Portugal. His claim wasn’t recognized by neighboring nations or the Pope for a long time. However Afonso Henriques forged close alliances with military Orders - the strongest of which the recently formed Templars -, pushing southward conquering territory to the Moors, during the Reconquista. At a certain stage, the Templars were granted 2/3 of all conquered land. They built a defensive line of castles along the Tagus river - which included Tomar and Almourol  - that was strategic and crucial for the Kings success.

Afonso Henriques proclaimed himself king of Portugal on July 25, 1139, after the Battle of Ourique where he defeated 5 Moorish rulers after the legendary vision of Christ crucified assured him victory despite numeric disadvantage. He was recognized as such in 1143 by Alfonso VII, king of Leon and Castile, and in 1179 by Pope Alexander III.

The independence of Portugal as a Kingdom and rise of his first - and for many reasons - legendary King Afonso Henriques, parallels the growth of the Templar Order in Europe. It’s not the same project, but one is the visible fruits of the other. If the Templars wouldn’t have been established in 1118, it’s very likely that there had never been a Portugal in 1128. If Bernard of Clairvaux wouldn’t have moved his personal influence near the Pope on behalf of Portugal (as he did on behalf of the Templars), Prince Afonso would have been excommunicated by the Pope. Indeed there is a letter from Bernard to Afonso in which he acknowledges that influence, written when, after the conquest of Santarém (1147), King Afonso donates the surrounding lands to the Cistercian Order, where they will establish the magnificent Alcobaça Monastery, that we will visit in the second of our chronicles.

Count Henrique, King Alfonso’s father, was a cousin of Bernard. And Bernard was, according to many accounts, a cousin of Hugh de Payens. The influence of both Bernard and the Templars in the upbringing of young Alfonso Henriques, tutored by Egas Moniz, one of the noblest families of the county, a mysterious character himself, is incontrovertible.

Most of the chronicles I will be illustrating with a few photos will reflect places, events and stories that took place between 1118 and 1314 or the transition between the end of the historical Order, the creation of the Order of Christ (1319) and up until the Discoveries age (that we will conclude in 1500 with the discovery of Brazil by Pedro Alvarez Cabral).

See you soon!

LM

Images (from the top): Count Henrique of Burgundy, King Afonso Henriques (foto LM) and Egas Moniz.

La Dirección Xeral de Patrimonio confirmó que volverá a realizar excavaciones en el Castelo da Lúa de Rianxo. Fuentes de la Consellería de Cultura informaron de que la actuación tendrá un coste aproximado de unos 300.000 euros y se prevé que los primeros trabajos comiencen en los próximos meses. Los técnicos de la Xunta están elaborando el proyecto y este año se pretende ejecutar la primera fase.

Las principales actuaciones consistirán en restaurar parte de los restos del vestigio, así como levantar una hilera más de los muros de la fortaleza. Entre los objetivos de las obras figura también la restauración de algunas piezas del inmueble, como las puertas y las torres.

Otra de las mejoras es la recuperación del foso, que está cubierto de tierra. El proyecto incluye además el adecentamiento de todo el entorno de la edificación, que en la actualidad está en bastante mal estado.

El alcalde, Pedro Piñeiro, mostró su satisfacción por la puesta en marcha de la recuperación de las ruinas del castillo, situado en las proximidades de la desembocadura del río Te, pues se trata de uno de los vestigios más importantes del término municipal.

La primera intervención realizada en las ruinas situadas en el lugar de O Pazo se llevaron a cabo en el verano del 2001. En aquella ocasión se descubrieron algunas partes de la fortaleza, pero al agotarse la consignación presupuestaria quedó incompleta.

Piñeiro Hermida explicó que la intención de Patrimonio es consolidar los restos actuales y completar algunas estancias con la piedra que todavía está sin colocar.

Las autoridades rianxeiras pretenden que las ruinas sean un reclamo turístico por lo que en el proyecto se prevé dotar a la zona de iluminación y de paneles informativos explicando su historia. El mandatario apuntó que el actual puente del paseo marítimo atraviesa parte del castillo por lo que impedirá realizar una actuación competa en toda la fortificación.

El Castelo da Lúa está situado justo al lado de la playa de A Torre, en la desembocadura del río Te. Al parecer, fue construido en el siglo XII por Paio Gómez Chariño, pasando más tarde a formar parte de la orden de los templarios y después a la mitra compostelana.

La fortificación fue derribada por los Irmandiños en 1465 y reedificada por Suero Gómez de Soutomaior. El castillo quedó arruinado por completo en 1600. El edificio fue expoliado para realizar en 1740 el campanario de la iglesia de Santa Columba, así como distintas construcciones en la villa y en la comarca.

in, Voz de Galicia

 ISTANBUL, Turkey — Assailants on Wednesday slit the throats of three employees of a publishing house that distributes Bibles, the latest in a series of attacks targeting Turkey’s small Christian minority.

The attack added to concerns in Europe about whether the predominantly Muslim country — which is bidding for EU membership — can protect its religious minorities. It also underlined concerns about rising Turkish nationalism and hostility toward non-Muslims.

The three victims — a German and two Turks — were found with their hands and legs bound and their throats slit at the Zirve publishing house in the central city of Malatya.

Police detained four men, ages 19 to 20, and a fifth suspect was hospitalized with serious injuries after jumping out of a window to try to escape arrest, authorities said. All five were carrying a letter that read: “We five are brothers. We are going to our deaths,” according to the state-run Anatolia news agency.

Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan condemned the attack and said investigators were looking into whether there were other suspects or possible links with terror groups.

“This is savagery,” Erdogan said.

The German victim had been living in Malatya since 2003, said Gov. Halil Ibrahim Dasoz. Anatolia identified him as 46-year-old Tilman Ekkehart Geske.

The attack is the latest in a string of attacks on Turkey’s Christian community, which comprises less than 1 percent of the population.

In February 2006, a Turkish teenager shot a Roman Catholic priest to death as he prayed in his church, and two other priests were attacked later that year. A November visit by Pope Benedict XVI was greeted by several nonviolent protests. Earlier this year, a suspected nationalist killed Armenian Christian editor Hrant Dink.

Authorities had vowed to deal with extremists after Dink’s murder, but Wednesday’s attack showed the violence was not slowing down.

German Foreign Minister Frank-Walter Steinmeier condemned the attack “in the strongest terms” and said he expected Turkish authorities would “do everything to clear up this crime completely and bring those responsible to justice.”

German Chancellor Angela Merkel’s Christian Democrat Party — which opposes Muslim Turkey’s membership in the European Union — said the attacks showed the country’s shortcomings in protecting religious freedom.

“After today’s murders, the Turkish government must … be asked whether it is doing enough to protect religious minorities,” the party’s general secretary, Ronald Pofalla, said in a statement.

“Freedom of religion is one of the fundamental human rights. The Turkish state is still far from the freedom of religion that marks Europe. It is the task of the Turkish government to guarantee this freedom of religion,” the statement said.

About 150 people lit candles and unfolded a banner that read, “We are all Christians,” in downtown Istanbul to protest the attack and show solidarity with the Christian community. But there was far less public outcry than with Dink’s murder, which was followed by widespread protests and condemnations. More than 100,000 people marched at Dink’s funeral.

Malatya, known as a hotbed of nationalists, is the hometown of Mehmet Ali Agca, who shot Pope John Paul II in 1981.

The Zirve publishing house has been the site of protests by nationalists accusing it of proselytizing in this Muslim, but secular country, and Zirve’s general manager said his employees had recently been threatened.

Anatolia said the five suspects were students who lived in the same student residence in Malatya.

The manner in which the victims were bound suggested the attack could have been the work of a local Islamic militant group, commentators said, and CNN-Turk television reported that police were investigating the possible involvement of Turkish Hezbollah — a Kurdish Islamic organization that aims to form a Muslim state in Turkey’s Kurdish-dominated southeast.

“These are fanatics who continue to be present in Turkey and who at a moment’s notice emerge with these acts of absurd violence,” Monsignor Luigi Padovese, the Vatican representative in Turkey, was quoted as saying by the Italian news agency ANSA.

Of Turkey’s 70 million people, only about 65,000 are Armenian Orthodox Christians, 20,000 are Roman Catholic and 3,500 are Protestants — mostly converts from Islam. Another 2,000 are Greek Orthodox Christians.

___

Associated Press writers Selcan Hacaoglu and Suzan Fraser in Ankara contributed to this report.

En pleno corazón de El Bierzo reposa la villa leonesa de Ponferrada. Encrucijada de caminos, se ha convertido desde hace siglos en ciudad de paso de millones de peregrinos del Camino de Santiago. Mezcla perfecta del sosiego, historia, tradición, paisaje y gastronomía, ha tenido, desde tiempos antiguos, gran importancia estratégica. Sin embargo, será a raíz del descubrimiento en Compostela de la tumba del Apóstol Santiago, cuando la ciudad adquiera su máximo auge.

El origen de la ciudad puede situarse entre los siglos IX y XI, cuando el obispo de Astorga ordenó la construcción de un puente de hierro para los peregrinos: Pons Ferrata. Construido sobre el río Sil, el puente dará nombre al poblado que crecerá a sus alrededores.

La historia de la villa ha estado marcada por la llegada de la Orden del Temple, en 1178. Los templarios llegaron a Ponferrada con un objetivo claro: proteger a los peregrinos que se dirigían a Santiago. Su impronta en la ciudad ha perdurado en el tiempo. La huella más viva está en el Castillo de los Templarios, para cuya construcción aprovecharon las ruinas de una antigua ciudadela romana.

En la actualidad, poco queda de la fortaleza original ya que el castillo cambió en varias ocasiones de manos tras la marcha de los templarios -los Condes de Lemos, los Duques de Arjona, el Marqués de Villafranca-. Todos ellos modificaron a su antojo el castillo, eliminaron algunas construcciones y levantaron otras nuevas, con lo que perdió gran parte de su encanto.

Junto al castillo, otro de los atractivos de Ponferrada es la Basílica de la Encina, el monumento religioso más importante de la ciudad, que alberga a la Patrona de la Ciudad y del Bierzo: la Virgen de la Encina. Según cuenta la tradición, la imagen de la virgen fue escondida en el tronco de una encina para protegerla de los sacrilegios de los invasores árabes. Allí fue encontrada siglos después por los templarios cuando cortaban madera para reconstruir el castillo romano.

Los otros monumentos religiosos son la antigua Iglesia de San Antonio, hoy sede del Instituto de Estudios Bercianos, y el Convento de las Concepcionistas Franciscanas, que no puede visitarse porque es de clausura. Todos estos lugares se encuentran cercanos unos de otros, en el casco antiguo de la ciudad. A pesar de su belleza, todos quedan ensombrecidos por la impresionante figura del castillo.

La leyenda de San Genadio

Una vez en Ponferrada no hay que dejar pasar la oportunidad de visitar sus alrededores, que encierran enclaves espectaculares, como el Valle del Silencio o Las Médulas. A poco más de 20 kilómetros se encuentra el primero de estos parajes que debe su nombre a la antigua leyenda de un ermitaño llamado San Genadio, que vivió en una cueva de la zona. Este ermitaño meditaba tanto que incluso el bullicio de un riachuelo cercano le molestaba.

Para no incomodarlo, tanto el río como los pájaros de la zona decidieron guardar el más estricto silencio. Según cuenta la leyenda, ni siquiera las gotas de agua que caen en el interior de la cueva en la que habitaba San Genadio hacen el más mínimo ruido.

El Valle del Silencio hace honor a su nombre, ya que se trata de un espacio natural muy tranquilo, perfecto para escapar del ruido de las ciudades. Además, este valle guarda varios tesoros. Entre ellos, la iglesia de Peñalba de Santiago, una de las joyas de la arquitectura mozárabe, fundado por San Genadio.

Por último, otro lugar de obligada visita son Las Médulas, un paraje declarado Patrimonio de la Humanidad, a 23 kilómetros de Ponferrada. Se trata los restos de las antiguas minas romanas destinadas a la extracción de oro. Un auténtico tesoro que fue la ruina de la montaña ya que quedó reducida a una sucesión de aristas y picachos por culpa del expeditivo sistema de extracción. Las Médulas constituyen uno de los testimonios más importantes del paso de los romanos por la Penínsua Ibérica.

Hoja de ruta:

Cómo llegar: la vía del Noroeste(A-6), que atraviesa el Bierzo de este a oeste, conecta Madrid y Galicia. A 110 Kilómetros de Ponferrada el aeropuerto de León tiene conexiones diarias con Madrid y Barcelona.

Dónde dormir: Hotel Monte Medulio (en Las Médulas), Hotel AC Ponferrada, Hotel Temple, Casa Marigel.

Dónde comer: Mesón El Leñador, Mesón La Casa, Restaurante Altamira, Asador Berciano.

 in www.elconfidencial.com

Idealista. Estuvo proscrito, fue templario, corsario y vicealmirante del reino de Sicilia. En el siglo XIV comandó las tropas almogávares que combatieron a los turcos en Constantinopla.

Fue uno de los aventureros más prestigiosos del medievo europeo. Sus hazañas, primero como templario, y más tarde como jefe militar de los temibles almogávares catalano-aragoneses, le proyectaron hacia la leyenda que acompaña a los héroes míticos.

Existen diferentes hipótesis sobre la fecha y lugar de nacimiento de este paladín mediterráneo, elucubrándose lo suficiente como para sostener encendidos debates a cargo de sus numerosos exégetas. Su llegada al mundo pudo acontecer en Cataluña hacia 1262, aunque lo más probable es que naciera en la localidad italiana de Brindisi en torno al año 1266. Esto último se deduce por el origen de sus progenitores. Su padre, Ricardo Blume —apellido cuya traducción sería Flor—, era halconero real del emperador alemán Federico II, mientras que su madre era hija de un rico comerciante de Brindisi. El infortunio quiso que Ricardo muriera combatiendo a favor de Conradino en su lucha contra la casa de Anjou, cuando el pequeño Roger sólo contaba un año de edad, lo que le restó casi todas las posibilidades de ascenso social.

Sin embargo, siendo adolescente tuvo un golpe de suerte y pasó a engrosar la lista de servidores de Vasall, un sargento mayor del Temple. Esta circunstancia le abrió las puertas de la carismática sociedad integrada por monjes guerreros. Al poco, se desveló su innata capacidad marinera, ganándose la confianza de la orden religiosa y asumiendo la dirección de la flota de galeras templarias que surcaban el Mediterráneo. Su nave favorita y capitana de la escuadra llevaba por nombre El Halcón, con lo que se recordaba el oficio de un padre al que no conoció.

En 1291 participó en la última cruzada librada en Tierra Santa, asumiendo la difícil misión de rescatar a miles de cristianos que se encontraban asediados por los musulmanes en la ciudad de San Juan de Acre (Palestina). La empresa culminó con éxito, y no sólo se consiguió rescatar a los angustiados cruzados, sino también sus ricas pertenencias, que fueron a parar a las arcas del Temple. Empero, una vez solventado el trance, numerosos testimonios acusaron al almirante de haberse apropiado indebidamente de cuanto botín estimó oportuno. Este supuesto delito, nunca demostrado, terminó con la peripecia templaria de Roger de Flor convirtiéndole en poco menos que un proscrito errante por las latitudes mediterráneas.

Durante años ofreció sus servicios militares a diferentes cortes europeas, combatió con unos y otros, hasta que, finalmente, estrechó lazos con la corona de Aragón, lugar en el que se hizo con prestigio y dinero suficientes para poseer 50 caballerías y otros tantos escuderos almogávares.

Tras múltiples avatares en los que desempeñó el oficio de corsario, Federico II, rey de Sicilia, le nombró vicealmirante de su flota alcanzando notables victorias frente a los ejércitos de su oponente el rey Carlos II de Nápoles. Al fin llegó la paz gracias al acuerdo de Caltabellotta, rubricado en 1302, por el que el rey Carlos aceptaba la permanencia vitalicia en el trono siciliano de Federico II. Una auténtica victoria para las armas aragonesas y un factor de prestigio para Roger de Flor quien, libre de compromisos bélicos, se dedicó a merodear diferentes puntos del Mediterráneo de los que extrajo tesoros gracias a la disciplina de sus hombres, los cuales seguían con entusiasmo a un líder que pagaba por adelantado otorgándoles un trato digno de los mejores soldados.

En 1304 la situación para el imperio bizantino era sumamente delicada. Su cabeza visible, Andrónico II, se encontraba más que amenazado por el empuje de la sublime puerta otomana. En consecuencia, no dudó en solicitar ayuda a Occidente y su petición encontró eco en la corona de Aragón, desde donde se empezó a preparar una expedición de auxilio. En ese tiempo, el principal ariete de los ejércitos catalano-aragoneses lo constituía la audaz compañía de almogávares, hombres duros como la tierra que les vio nacer y curtidos en mil refriegas de la Reconquista hispana y de las guerras italianas. Su ferocidad en el combate trascendía fronteras, y lo cierto es que esa fama estaba justificada. Su grito de combate: “¡Despierta ferro!”, atemorizaba allá donde resonaba. Y sería este mercenario idealista, convertido ahora en comandante de aquellos guerreros, el encargado de acometer una tarea tan exigente como incierta. Con 4.000 infantes y 1.500 jinetes, las tropas almogávares embarcaron en 39 galeras que zarparon rumbo a Grecia, donde en violentas batallas hicieron retroceder la amenaza turca. El nombre de Roger de Flor fue elevado al universo de los héroes y el propio Andrónico le otorgó el título de megaduque para más tarde proclamarle César de Oriente. Sin embargo, los recelos anidaron en el alma del gobernante bizantino, el cual comenzó a temer por su trono y aún por su vida a manos del influyente jefe almogávar. El 5 de abril de 1305 el emperador organizó una trampa en la que cayeron Roger de Flor y 130 de sus oficiales, siendo asesinados a traición por aquellos a los que con tanto acierto habían socorrido. La reacción de los catalano-aragoneses supervivientes no se hizo esperar, arrasando despiadadamente los territorios griegos, en lo que se llamó “venganza catalana”.

El resultado fue la creación de los ducados de Atenas y Neopatria, lugares independientes de Bizancio en los que perduraron tres generaciones de almogávares que mantuvieron la impronta catalana y aragonesa en forma de sistema de gobierno e idioma. En ese tiempo, las gestas de su indomable general fueron ensalzadas para que su épica atravesara los siglos.

Por Juan Antonio Cebrián, elmundo.es

Down the ancient lanes of old Jerusalem last Saturday, thousands of Christian worshipers surged toward the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where Jesus Christ is said to have risen bodily from his tomb. Many of the devout carried candles for the “Holy Fire Ritual,” in which Orthodox priests descend to Christ’s tomb and emerge with a flame that they say appears spontaneously — miraculous proof, believers say, that Christ has not forgotten his followers.

Moments later, the gloomy church glows incandescent as worshipers press forward to light their candles from the so-called “heavenly fire.” Sometimes it isn’t just the candles that catch fire — beards and hair crackle spectacularly in the chaotic crush around the flame-bearing priests. Skeptics denounce the ritual as a 1,200-year-old sleight-of-hand whose secret is passed from one generation of high priests to the next. But for the thousands of gathered worshipers, it was proof of God’s existence and Christ’s resurrection.

But was this really Christ’s tomb? Like millions of viewers, I’d seen the Discovery Channel documentary The Lost Tomb of Jesus, which raises the possibility that he was buried in the hills outside Jerusalem, alongside Joseph, his mother Mary, his supposed wife Mary Magdalene, and a boy, aged 10-12 years, named Judah, who could, the filmmakers suggested, have been a son sired by Jesus with Mary Magdalene. So, I decided to take a closer look.

The way to the Holy Sepulcher winds down the Via Dolorosa, the route to Jesus’ crucifixion. Nowadays, the route is packed with pushy vendors selling Holy Water, T-shirts championing the Israeli army, sandals and gaudy junk from India. Some reports claim that the site of the church was chosen after the Dowager Queen Helena had ordered the torture of a few rabbis to reveal the location of Christ’s crucifixion, and that they may have deliberately given false information.

The road to the Talpiyot tombs dips down from the Hill of Evil Council (the name a source of amusement for many Israelis, since it houses local U.N. headquarters), veers around a traffic circle, and then heads into a suburb of limestone apartment buildings on a hillside with pines and rose gardens. There were no tour buses, nobody hawking candles or postcards, just a few Israelis out for a stroll with their kids and dogs. I asked one dog-walker if he could direct us to the Jesus Family tomb, and he shrugged.

The tomb, unearthed by filmmaker Simcha Jacobovici, was sealed up again with a thick concrete slab. Now it looks like an ordinary piece of concrete flooring in the ordinary garden of an ordinary Israeli suburb, something on which you might put lawn chairs or a kid’s wading pool. None of the neighbors seemed keen about the tomb’s discovery; after all, they didn’t want strangers running through their tidy rose gardens with torches of Heavenly Fire.

For Jacobovici, finding the controversial tombs — debunked by one Biblical scholar as “archeo-porn” — shouldn’t shake the foundations of Christian faith at all. He told TIME: “For millions of people, this is inspirational. It could prove that Jesus wasn’t a myth — he really existed. People have come up to me and said their faith has been reinforced.”

Not all Christians agree. Many see the film as blasphemy, and in the U.S. evangelical groups staged a campaign to ban the Discovery Channel from airing it. Orthodox churches have also condemned it, although the Vatican, so far, has chosen to ignore the fuss.

The resealed tomb may still hold many mysteries. Jacobovici says the strange symbol over its entrance — a swooping chevron over a circle — may have been the precursor of a symbol used by the Templar Knights. “There were also three skulls inside, arranged in a triangle, as if they were guardians,” he says. “And that’s not something you find in Jewish funeral rites.” Jacobovici says the tomb was vandalized, possibly during the Crusader times.

So, did the Templars know about the family of Jesus? Now, we were running into Da Vinci Code territory. Jacobovici grinned enigmatically and glanced at his watch. “Have to run,” he said, rising. Back at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the many flames of faith were burning bright.

by TIM MCGIRK in Time

No arquipélago onde o catolicismo revela, ainda, uma influência fortíssima na vida quotidiana, não temos, apesar de tudo, os «crucificados» das Filipinas. Mas neste ano um maltês quis fazer-se crucificar. Não o deixaram.

La Valletta, terça-feira de manhã, semana santa. Ainda a ressaca da representação pascal de Tarxien, com milhares a encherem as ruas nessa noite longa, actores sérios e um homem de 33 anos, com as costas flageladas. Atravessamos uma das artérias principais da capital maltesa, cheia de turistas e de locais, que cruzam a rua, apressados. Numa entrada apresenta-se um crucifixo enorme, decorado com os panejamentos e as cores da época pascal. Mais uma igreja? Não. Um café, com sala de bilhar, quiosque, homens à conversa. A sala é enorme e o seu estilo requintado sugere o princípio do século XX. Há uma exposição de arte sacra, naquela que é a sede da sociedade filarmónica.

Estranho? Não em Malta, a terra dos cavaleiros com a ordem do mesmo nome (também chamados Hospitalários), uma igreja em cada esquina e uma imensa maioria católica. Ali o período da Semana Santa é celebrado com um fulgor invulgar. Como se sabe, a história do arquipélago que entrou na União Europeia em 2004 confunde-se com a desta ordem religiosa militar, nascida no fervor das Cruzadas e o catolicismo, presente no Parlamento, é religião oficial. Mas o local onde o crucifixo pontifica, entre o café e a sala de bilhar, já não surpreende quem vê, a toda a hora, em jornais, «outdoors» nas ruas e à beira da estrada, anúncios de reconstituições de cenas da Paixão de Cristo em diversas localidades.

Destes acontecimentos, um tem impacto local: em Tarxien, localidade situada a leste de Malta e conhecida pela riqueza do seu património pré-histórico, teve lugar, na véspera do Domingo de Ramos, uma representação com 400 participantes, música e um desfile teatral. O naipe das participações inclui nomes conhecidos no país, como as cantoras Mary Spiteri e Debbie Scerri, que participaram já no Festival da Eurovisão e que, diriam ao Expresso, estavam «muito emocionadas» por tomarem parte.

A iniciativa, a cargo de uma associação cultural local (Ghaqda Kultura u Armar Marija Annunzjata é o nome, na língua maltesa), vai já no seu 13.º. ano e tem direito a cobertura televisiva em directo. O circunspecto ‘The Times’, de Malta, anunciou o acontecimento com destaque, mas não referiu a questão mais controversa: Joseph Abela, o homem de olhos azuis e intensos que iria interpretar o papel de Jesus, quis mesmo fazer-se crucificar, tal como o Nazareno, que há dois milénios, em Jerusalém, morreu com a sua idade: 33 anos.

Não o deixaram. Mesmo numa ilha onde religião, poder e festividade popular se misturam num caldo de cultura com sabor a hóstia, o facto é insólito e todos os malteses que o Expresso ouviu discordaram das intenções de Abela, funcionário dos Correios, ao que apurámos. O comentário mais benevolente que ouvimos foi: «Bem, ele pediu para ser crucificado, era porque queria». Malta não é as Filipinas, mas J. Abela ainda deixou-se flagelar por um «soldado» – alguém que, assim, colaborou com a sua vontade de sacrifício. Em visita a Malta e a Chipre, acompanhando uma viagem do Grupo de Amigos do Museu Nacional de Arqueologia (GAMNA), fomos ver.

Em Tarxien cai a tarde. Não é preciso perguntar onde as cenas decorrem: toda a gente converge para o mesmo sítio. Em breve serão milhares. Pessoas de todo o país (incluindo a vizinha ilha de Gozo) vieram para ver. Mocinhas de minissaia curtíssima, cabelos muito compridos, botas altas pregueadas, caras cheias de maquilhagem, blusas até ao umbigo, a rirem-se entre si como se viessem a uma festa – e vieram. Rapazes com corte de cabelo de reminiscências «punk», famílias com carrinhos de bebé, cabelos grisalhos, padres.

A resposta à pergunta sobre as motivações da vinda é invariável: a fé. Um altifalante recita o início do Evangelho de São João enquanto o frade franciscano Edmond Elm, de La Valetta, queixa-se do «espírito consumista» que afecta alguns católicos mais novos, hoje. Tem razões para queixa: um recenseamento encomendado pela própria Igreja de Malta, de 2005, revela um claro decréscimo da frequência da missa entre os habitantes do arquipélago. Segundo estes dados, só 52,6% da população assiste com regularidade aos serviços religiosos.

Nada disto parece demover a organização das cenas litúrgicas: quando se abre o pórtico improvisado os «quadros» sucedem-se, desde o imperador romano Constantino, que legalizou a fé cristã, e da sua mãe, Santa Helena (a quem se atribui a descoberta da cruz da Paixão), até Adão e Eva. Seguem as personagens do Antigo Testamento: os patriarcas, os faraós, dançarinas com roupas vistosas, o povo do Êxodo, o bezerro de ouro, o rei David. E vem o Novo Testamento, à mistura com cavaleiros templários. As personagens, mesmo as crianças, entram sérias, compenetradas. Nem um relógio de pulso à mostra, nem um soldado romano desleixado. O desfile dura horas enquanto a multidão se apinha.

A chegada do Cristo, já com coroa de espinhos, a sangrar, é o clímax: câmaras de televisão, luzes, telemóveis apontados para a foto, exclamações. O actor vacila para o palco onde está erguida a cruz, mas agora só um ecrã gigante permite acompanhar as cenas. O público reage à dor física do homem com expressões horrorizadas. Os risos do início da festa deram lugar ao silêncio. E o espectáculo segue pela noite.

in Expresso, por Nair Alexandra (texto e fotos)