Even Death Passage

The cathedral itself was quite large, but not as large as those in Augsburg and Worms. It was very medieval. Paintings of the saints wrapped the massive pillars. The chancel was ornate and deep, with a meticulously carved oak choir. They walked to the front pew and took a seat. This was the place where Luther was ordained. If only the bishop knew what he was doing!

They sat a while and listened to the soprano. She was singing Psalm 16. When she finished, they walked across to the Severikirche. You could hardly walk without stepping on markers for the dead. In a little side chapel a marvelous crucifix hung at eye level. Isaac stood and took it in for a while. The baptismal font was fantastically unique, reaching a few stories into the air. '

“You guys ready to head down? I want to get a sausage at the stand we passed. I’m starving,” Mike said.

“Sure,” Phil said. “I’m kind of hungry too. Don’t want to miss too much in Leipzig either. We’d better keep moving.”

When the others started down the steps, Isaac took a picture of the view from the top. The entire city knelt before these churches, genuflecting to the God in whose honor they’d been built in a piety long since lost by most of the population.

Isaac met up with the guys in the little market at the foot of the steps. Mike came back, looking baffled, gazing in consternated contemplation at his lunch. A foot of Thuringian sausage rested in a dinner roll almost too small for his hands—not quite the bratwurst you’d get at a Brewer’s game.

“What’s wrong, Mike? Don’t like sausage?” Isaac joked.

“Shut up or I’ll whack you with it.”

“But then what would you do with all that bun?”