It wasn’t a religious pilgrimage.
It was a pilgrimage of learning and discovery.
I’d lived in Germany for four years in my early military years, but had never traveled to Aachen, indeed hadn’t really known anything about the city.
When I returned to Canada in the early 1990s, I studied German Literature and History at Brock University in southern Ontario.
I was intrigued by the art and the stories about the Aachen Cathedral, was particularly captivated by the story of Charlemagne and the Royal Throne.
It was explained to the students that Charlemagne had positioned the throne chair in such a direction that he would be able to watch the approach of the new Messiah.
I simply had to see the throne for myself.
On my next trip to Germany, only weeks after graduating with my Arts degree, I made my pilgrimage alone to Aachen.
I toured the Cathedral, cherished the designs and relics from past ages, described on plaques with the name of the relic, the year it was designed or acquired, and the materials from which it was made.
But no stories as such about the relics.
Indeed, when I arrived at my prize, the Royal Throne, I found no stories about Charlemagne, nor of the positioning of the throne to witness the approach of the new Messiah.
But that didn’t lessen the experience in any way.
I stood to the rear of the throne and looked past it, to the view the ruler of the day would have had.
There was nothing particularly unique about the view, certainly nothing that would scream “Look, here comes the new Messiah!”
But it was special nevertheless.
Whether the Charlemagne story is true or not, my German History professor sure knew how to intrigue his students, and to encourage them to travel in their own ways to the sacred places of our collective history.
