Without a doubt, the most iconic landmark of Magdeburg is the Cathedral of Saints Catherine and Maurice—more commonly known as the Magdeburg Cathedral (German: Magdeburger Dom). Towering over the city center and visible from miles away, the magnificent building is the oldest Gothic cathedral in Germany and has silently observed hundreds of years of local ongoings—the Reformation, invading armies, the Peaceful Revolution, and, in recent years, renditions of the musical which features everyone’s favorite transvestite scientist.
Despite residing in an area which is primarily atheist, the Dom remains a cultural focal point of the city and as such offers daily day-time tours and biweekly night-time tours from September to April. Last spring, I was able to tag along to one of the last night tours of the season.
Walking into the cathedral on a chilly spring night, the atmosphere of the space was quite different than my previous visits—all of which occurred during the day. On any afternoon, the inside of the Dom is a truly beautiful sight; sunlight filters through the large windows and illuminates the enormous, man-made cavern with an ethereal glow. Around 10pm, however, the only sources of light within the dim interior were small flashlights held by visitors. Their beams flickered across the uneven surfaces and caused shadows to dance with unfamiliarity around us. It was eerie to say the least. We huddled into small groups, as if each other’s presence would protect us from the pressing darkness and biting chill in the room.
At last, the tour began. Two men guided us—a group of about 30 people—throughout the cathedral and stopped at various historic sites and artifacts to explain their significance. Halfway through the tour, we stood behind the alter at the center of the Dom and circled around the grave marker of, according to the tour guide, a particularly hated archbishop of Magdeburg. Within the blanket of darkness, the aged tour guide regaled the story of the long-dead Archbishop Burchard III, a greedy man who had levied a beer tax.
As anyone with even a pinch of knowledge about German culture knows, beer is a serious matter in Deutschland. Faced with an increasing price of beer, how did the Magdeburgers handle the tax? Clearly, in the most reasonable manner. With almost a tone of agreement, the tour guide proclaimed that the local citizens kidnapped the archbishop and bashed his head in with an iron doorknob. The group burst into a fit of wild laughter; the sounds of their whoops and hollers reverberating around the chamber of the cathedral.
Nothing lightens the dim mood of a group of Germans like the story of a gruesome murder.
Life, Love, & Sausages 