A tale of two chapels

Last weekend I did small trips to two different chapels in the depths of Flanders. On Saturday afternoon, I biked the 7.8 km over to the Chapel of St Theresa on the provincial frontier between Bierbeek and Hamme Mille.

Photograph taken in April when the weather was better.

It was built in 1930 by the Van Der Elst family in gratitude for the miraculous healing of one of their children, and dedicated to St Thérèse of Lisieux. I’ve known about it for years. These days it mostly sits at the side of the road with cars zooming past, but last Saturday it was opened for Mass celebrated by the two priests of Bierbeek and Hamme Mille, with a congregation of about eight, plus two musicians playing the viola da gamba.

The point of the ceremony was to bring together people from both sides of the linguistic frontier, which runs just south of the chapel, and the priests alternated between Dutch and French in the ritual.

There’s a relatively new small sculpture by our local artist Ad Wouters above the door.

Inside I found tokens of gratitude to St Theresa, and a sleeping bat.

I used to be quite devout, but I would no longer describe myself as a practicing Catholic. However I think that sometimes if you want to celebrate connection between communities across geographical distance and time, the traditional ways can be a right way of doing that, and I enjoyed the symbolism of a communal mystic meal shared between the representatives of the different villages speaking different languages, organized by the foundation which now looks after the chapel.

The next day, I had promised F that we would go and take B out for a drive and a walk, and I found a new sight to see nearby (well, 25 minutes’ drive from B) in the village of Helshoven. Built in 2019, it is known as the floating chapel, “de zwevende kapel”, though as you first approach it, it’s not quite clear what’s going on. I had not told F in advance, so the look on his face, when he realized why it is called the “floating chapel”, was priceless.

B as usual took it in her stride.

Its official name is Helsh(ea)ven, a pun on the village name of Helshoven. It’s made with wood from the trunks of cherry trees, but of course the human eye interprets it as solid stone. The creator, Frits Jeuris, explains it in English on his own website; but it stands for itself really.

In case you want to explore for yourself, the St Theresa Chapel is at 50.8008 N, 4.7090 E (though you are unlikely to find it open) and Helsh(ea)ven is at 50.7915 N, 5.2667 E (and it is never closed).

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