What happened eight hun­dred years ago? Bogomils head towards the West, Teuton­ic Knights towards the north, the cru­sad­ing hosts march to the East, and amber trickles gently towards the South. A ver­it­able net­work of arter­ies, spir­itu­al and mater­i­al… Near Hun­gary's south­ern bor­der, on the gentle slopes of the Mec­sek, there nestles a small vil­lage, Mánfa. Its church, from the age of the first Hun­gari­an royal dyn­asty, the House of Árpád, was built in the twelfth cen­tury. Or rather only its begin­nings, the small church build­ing, ori­gin­ally almost per­fectly square in plan, with a free-stand­ing bell tower. But the vil­la­gers, it seems, out­grew the church and set about enlar­ging it: they exten­ded the walls both side­ways and length­ways, so that the ori­gin­al apse now lies to the right of the build­ing's long axis, and the tower on the west­ern side was incor­por­ated into the build­ing. A sur­pris­ing like­ness: Chartres Cathed­ral was built in much the same way. The earli­er build­ing burned down, only its towers sur­vived, and to these the new nave was later joined. The meth­od of build­ing matches, and so does the age – the enlarge­ment of the Mánfa church is Goth­ic, just like the splen­did cathed­ral of Chartres…

In time the vil­lage moved away, and the old church was aban­doned and over­grown by the forest. When it was redis­covered, hardly any orna­ment remained, a carving here and there on the jambs of the door­way, the tiny columns of the tower, the stone frames of the win­dows. The remains of the nearby cemetery, long since cleared, were laid in a small ossuary behind the build­ing. Yet it is held that a remark­able inter­na­tion­al trade route ran right here, at the edge of the vil­lage – per­haps in front of the church. Yes, the Amber Road…

Mánfa and Chartres – a spir­itu­al bond through reli­gion, churches built by the same meth­od, the same ori­ent­a­tion and the same age, which is to say that the space-time con­tinuum is mapped identic­ally. This invis­ible axis join­ing East and West, detec­ted by no one, is crossed by the north–south Amber Road – what kind of centre might the point of inter­sec­tion mark? This alone would be more than enough for one to med­it­ate on these facts for a life­time. But there is one more thread. Today the wall of the Mánfa church is covered with plaster of a single col­our, and only on the west­ern face of the tower can a lar­ger opened patch be seen, which looks as if it were the pre­par­a­tion for a fresco, or rather an under­coat half knocked away, half uncovered. And although noth­ing can be made out on the sur­face today, archae­olo­gists sup­pose that an image of Saint Chris­toph­er once adorned the church. Just as a statue of Chris­toph­er adorned the square before Notre-Dame in Paris, and in so many other sac­red build­ings Chris­toph­er bear­ing Christ appears in a fresco or a relief. In the fresco of Toledo Cathed­ral, Saint Chris­toph­er looks a ver­it­able giant. But the Greek Chris­to­phoros, Christ-bear­er, can also be read anoth­er way: chryso-phoros means gold-bear­er! Besides the archi­tec­tur­al, eco­nom­ic and cul­tur­al, or reli­gious par­al­lels, here is an occult sign as well, in East and West alike. Per­haps al-chimia, too, was once a com­mon sym­bol­ic lan­guage?

… cabal­ist­ic phon­et­ics, how­ever, reveals anoth­er mean­ing, accord­ing to the Her­met­ic teach­ing. Chris­tophe is used in place of the word Chryso­phe – bear­ing gold (Gk. Chryso­phoros). If we speak of Chris­toph­er in this sense, the vast sig­ni­fic­ance of the sym­bol at once becomes clear­er. The sym­bol of the solar sul­phur (Jesus), or of the nas­cent gold, as it rises from the waves of Mer­curi­us, and then, by its own power drawn from this Mer­curi­us, attains the degree of the powers that pos­sess the Elixir. Aris­totle says that Mer­curi­us is sym­bol­ised by the col­our grey or viol­et, which is explan­a­tion enough for why the statues of Saint Chris­toph­er were given a coat­ing of that col­our. (Ful­canel­li: The Mys­tery of the Cathed­rals, Arc­ti­c­us, 2001.)

The spir­it of inquiry rightly entails form­ing an opin­ion after thor­ough study, and on one's own respons­ib­il­ity. What happened eight hun­dred years ago… let each decide for him­self.