Hello, again, Blogonauts!

Let's play catch-up here for a day or two, shall we?

I have given the Freiburger Münster its own special entry here, if for no other reason of its age and centrality for the town. But unlike churches in most of the US, the church is endowed with maintaining fair play in the local trades.

First off...what is a Münster? It is not related to Herman Munster...at least I don't believe so. Essentially, a Münster is a church that, while serving a region, is also associated with a monastery.

Münster shows up in English as "minster." We're all familiar with the Westminster Abbey or, more recognizably in my neck of the woods, Leominster (which draws its name for the English town and its parish church). As it turns out, the Freiburger Münster is also a cathedral, which means that its the home church for the local Roman Catholic bishop.

More about the Münster's construction in a moment, but first let's focus on the large plaza surrounding this sandstone behemoth. Several days each week, ever since the at least the 12th century, a community market has filled the plaza with vendors' stalls, selling vegetables, prepared goods, crafts, flowers, and I'm sure in the past, animals and farm implements. You could get anything you want at the Freiburger Münster Mart.

In the days of the Holy Roman Empire, operating a town market was deemed a privilege, and tying capitalism to the church seemed to help keep the businesses honest. For example, carved into the walls of the church are the sizes expected for loaves of bread and baskets. Anyone thinking they had been cheated could simply compare their loaf to the size on the church wall. (Ironically, the acceptable size shrank over time, as indicated by the newer, 14th century engraving.)

Now let's turn our attention to the building itself. As is true of most large gothic structures across Europe, construction took place in stages, and over centuries. Most of these churches were laid out in the form of a cross, with the nave (where the lay people sit) and the choir (where the priests and choir sit) separated by the arms of the cross (also known as the transept).

The earliest still existing part of the Freiburger Münster is its transept...which is actually Romanesque, i.e., pre-Gothic. How can you tell? It's easy: the arches are rounded. Gothic arches are noted for rising to a pointed peak, and this is true of most of the arches in the Münster. However, the arches in the transept precede this innovation.

Although they weren't setting any speed records, construction on the Münster proceeded faster than many of its fellow cruciform concoctions. In 1291, they began construction on the nave, most of which was finished by 1310. The addition of that impossibly delicate spire was completed in 1340. Then things slowed to a snail's pace (primarily because snails were the only critters funding the project at the time). Building the choir, the final project in the construction, lasted from 1380 until 1536.

Alongside the hallmark Gothic structural features, there are also some impressive, and at time whimsical statuary adorning the Münster. Most prominent are the gargoyles, which serve as downspouts for directing rainwater off the roof. I have included some of the photos (including one hard to miss risqué gargoyle).

In addition to the gargoyles, the entranceway to the church is colorfully festooned with all manner of saints and theological depictions. These recently underwent some restoration, so they're in almost pristine condition. (I could not, however, avoid comparing the sanctified statues with the puppets in Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.)

One particular depiction deserves special mention: In it St. Michael is seen weighing the souls of the departed to determine if they're sufficiently righteous to enter heaven. But waiting alongside this eschatological weighing station stands a gleeful demon, seemingly rubbing his hands together in hopes that he will soon have more sinners to torture. The concept is horrid. However, its portrayal is worthy of Hanna-Barbera.

Once inside, the Münster is one of the darkest churches I've ever seen. For some of the interior photos, I've enhanced the lighting, so you can make out more than is readily visible to the eyes of visitors. The artwork, when properly lit, is exquisite. The stained-glass windows (which were removed for preservation during World War 2) were funded by various trade guilds, and their symbols and their patron saints are prominently displayed in the glass.

Speaking of World War 2, Freiburg was not immune from participating in the Nazi oppression and expulsion of its Jewish residents. The local synagogue was destroyed on Kristallnacht, and as a reminder of the purging of the local Jews, there are brass Stolpersteine (stumbling stones) set into the pavement in front of homes where Jews were forced to leave, often to their own deaths. (See the photos for an example.) Similar brass plaques, each detailing what became of the lost residents, can be found all over Germany.

The Synagogue was eventually rebuilt, with the doors of destroyed building incorporated in the new structure. However, it took until 1985 for construction to begin. (It was completed in the same year.)

The market place outside of the Münster remains active, even on non-market days. Children come there to play, and there's a clownish man making storms of bubbles for them to chase and burst. Plus the cafes alongside the plaza sell lots of sweets and ice cream daily.

That's all from Freiburg! Next I briefly leave Germany for Strasbourg, France, home of story-book architecture, another slam-bang church, and the European Union's Parliament and Court of Human Rights. But that's all to come!

Blog to you later!