The Dove of Light + An Ancient Altar
Day Four of My Solo Pilgrimage: Minerve
My visit to Minerve is proof for me that divine guidance and sacred magic exists, I added this “Most Beautiful Village in France” sacred stop to my itinerary for the final day of my pilgrimage at the last minute. This medieval village has been on my list for a long time; the list of places in France I feel called to visit is a long one.
I arrived early on Saturday morning while the sleepy but hot sun rays began to warm the village, my intentional early start rewarded me with the village all to myself. Wandering with only the map of my heart I found myself directly on the narrow cobbled street of Rue des Martyrs.
“Minerve, at the heart of what we now know as Languedoc, was one of the Cathars strongholds (you can read more about the Cathars in one of my previous posts here). They chose the location because the deep gorges surrounding it provided a formidable defense. But in 1210, after sacking Carcassonne and Béziers, the forces of the Albigensian Crusade, led by Simon de Montfort, laid siege to the village. This resulted in well over 100 of the heretical Cathars being burned at the stake.”
“The tyrant dies and his rule is over, the martyr dies and his rule begins.”― Soren Kierkegaard
Feeling the sadness and the history of this sacred street, I walked the entire length of the street slowly contemplating what it must have felt like to be walking to their death under these circumstances. The Cathars were considered heretics and they were systematically wiped out in this area for their beliefs. Many places in the South of France still mark the end for these martyrs and the energy in these places can be felt deeply.
From here, I wandered through the multi-leveled winding streets without encountering a soul for the first hour. I began to make my way to the reason why this village has been on my list to visit for so long. When I arrived at the front door of the church that holds this treasure inside my heart sank, the door was closed and locked.
Just outside the church in a little cobbled square overlooking the main bridge and gorge there is a beautiful iron cross, and a famous stone sculpture. “At the top of the artwork, a hole has been carved in the shape of a dove, and below this there is a simple inscription: ‘Als Catars‘, Occitan for ‘In memory of the Cathars’. The sculpture is called La Colombe de Lumière (Dove of Light) and was made by local artist Jean-Luc Séverac, who died last year.”
I looked at the time, it was just before 9am. I sat at the foot of the cross with my face in the sunshine waiting for Église Saint-Étienne to open. 9am came and went and the door remained closed, I was happy with the sunny break and Timothy Freke’s book in my ears so I waited some more thinking that maybe the church would open at 10am.
10am came and went and I began to think maybe the church wasn’t going to open. I made my way to the center of town to the little tourist office where there was a man behind the counter just starting his day. I asked about the church and learned that the church is no longer left open without someone to guard the treasure inside - this person was sick today so the church wasn’t open. My heart sank again.
In an instant the man could feel my disappointment, and after conveying to to him that this was my only moment to visit and pleading with him to help me, he said that he would help but that I had to visit quickly because he couldn’t leave his post for very long.
“How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.”
― William Shakespeare
He grabbed a huge ancient key on a ring with others and I followed him back to the church. Carefully, and as if he never does it, he unlocked the medieval lock and pushed the heavy church door open ceremoniously. He explained to me that they could no longer trust visitors with the treasure inside. He shared that some people who have visited had vandalized it so the church is now locked and the treasure is protected by a volunteer who comes and opens the church in the afternoons on certain days.
As we entered the church I spotted this treasure instantly, just beyond where we were, at the front of the main aisle in the center was the oldest altar in France, dating from 456. The space had a beautiful, gentle and deeply sacred energy… I stood in the quiet holy stillness with perfect natural light streaming in through the windows wishing that I could linger, wishing that I could sit for awhile and savor it.
As I approached the ancient altar I also noticed that the marble had been covered by a custom piece of glass. There are special names carved in this altar from the history of this place, apparently tourists visiting (not knowing the history and significance) took this as an invitation to leave theirs… The altar is now protected.
Minerve has a gentle, historic and holy energy, it feels like a forgotten place to me. This church and this altar were my very favorite part of this entire 4-day solo pilgrimage, the ancient energy touched me deeply.
As I was making my way back to the car, I stopped at one of the little shops filled mostly with books. Just beyond the counter were a few pieces of copper jewelry that caught my eye. Not dainty in any way, but crafted with the weight of medieval times. I felt called to a chain and two charms: one in the shape of a dove, and one with the Cathar cross.