Taize has been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve been thinking about new services, for a variety of churches and small groups around the country. When I noticed that someone had looked this piece up today—a blog I had written nearly 4 years ago—I thought I’d share it anew. Pax
Me neither. But the sanctuary at Taize may just be the closest thing to it. The walls soar to cathedral heights, but there’s nothing old or gray or obsolete about the beauty here: everything is orange and glowing and rendered with an eye to simplicity. We approach in silence, pick up a songbook and enter the otherwordly space. There are no pews in Taize. All the pilgrims sit on the floor, or on a handful of freestanding wooden kneelers which people learn to arrive early to snag. The center aisle is partitioned off from the two sides by a small row of dried greens that form a divide between the visitors and the brothers, who sat in an order that appeared to be by age, or seniority, in simple wooden chairs along the edges or in kneelers down the center.
In their white robes they entered, one by one, from…
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Heather Choate Davis 