146: Doing it Wrong

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The baby was crying while I was doing errands today, so I pulled my bike over in front of one of the big churches in town. I figured Mary and Jesus, they wouldn't mind me going in to feed the baby. It was a humungous structure, older than my New World brain can really process, and we went in what I assume was the medieval version of a mud room and sat on the bench to give my little girl the breast. A couple people walked through. The first made sure to shut the gigantic carved, brass decorated doors quietly so as not to bother us. The second insisted it wasn't warm enough there and made us come into the main area and sit on one of the pews. So I've now nursed my child, bosom exposed, under the benevolent gaze of a 800 year old carving of someone's messiah on the cross. Like the church I'd visited in Slagelse, this church had impressively good vibes. I say impressive, because on travels, I've been in a number of old churches in Eastern Europe, Italy and Portugal. A lot of them felt very intimidating and dark. There was one in Lisbon that had such negative feelings that I couldn't walk more than a few feet inside. Maybe it's because Denmark is specifically Lutheran and as far as I can tell, converted to keep crusaders from attacking the country and were wooed by the gorgeous choral music. I wonder if this is the start of it being socially unacceptable to talk about religion in public and perhaps there were a lot of people who were Christian in public and worshiped the old way in private. Anyway, there was a 20 foot tall carved piece behind the pulpit that was just awe inspiring and the there were graves from the 1600's under the walkway between the pews. Guess it's a good place to be buried.