Cracking Beers with a Priest in Germany
Three years ago, I was studying abroad in Heidelberg, Germany, a scenic city nestled between two hills and split by the Neckar River. For anyone not familiar with the place, Heidelberg’s main appeal is its majestic castle that, despite being built around 1214, is still somewhat intact and functioning. Its prominent location on the eastern hill above the historic Altstadt — a bustling, cobblestone quarter replete with cafes, bars, restaurants and their respective denizens — makes it one of the most frequented sites in Europe. Heidelberg also happens to be home to Ruprecht-Karls-Universität, the 5th oldest university in Europe of which I was fortunate enough to attend for one year on exchange. During that year, I experienced so much, be it through my travels, the language I was learning or the people I met. One instance, though, still stands out to me more than most, and it happened on a pleasant Spring day in the winding streets of the Altstadt.
I was leisurely strolling through the Altstadt with my German friend, Frank, simply admiring the day and chatting about anything that came to mind. We had the afternoon at our disposal and decided to buy beers as we walked. There was a small supermarket close by, so we went there and purchased our alcohol. I remember buying a hefeweizen and Frank got a pilsner. He didn’t say anything regarding my choice of beer, but he eyed it strangely as I paid the cashier. I thought nothing of it and exited the supermarket with Frank behind me. Eventually, we found ourselves at Bismarckplatz, the main traffic hub and city center of Heidelberg. It marks the end of the Altstadt and leads into the more modern districts of the city. Having nowhere to go, we decided to head to Frank’s apartment, which was a 5-minute tram ride from Bismarckplatz.
We boarded the tram and searched for seats. Frank, being the eccentric type, thought it best that we sit across from the only man wearing a cassock even though there were plenty of other seats around us. Keep in mind, I was born and raised in North Carolina and like many North Carolinians, I had a strong religious upbringing. Put simply, I didn’t think it was a good idea to drink in front of such an esteemed religious person. But Frank clearly thought it was and, without consulting me at all, went ahead and sat with the pious man. Within seconds the two were conversing. We found out that our priest was actually in seminary, a Lutheran, and that he, having noticed our beers, also had one (a pilsner, mind you) that he wanted to drink with us. He cracked his open, prosted us eagerly and took a deep gulp with us.
As I finished the customary toast and lowered my beer, the dregs of my hefeweizen formed a frothy head at the base of the bottle. For some reason, this was the Germans’ cue to educate me on their drinking culture. I was promptly ridiculed for not knowing that a hefeweizen is considered a waste if it is not consumed in a proper glass. Also, why on earth would anyone drink a hefeweizen in a tram? Pilsners are for that, not a hefeweizen. It was as if this were common knowledge, and that by instinct I should have known. Ignorant Americans, they must’ve thought. Of course this was all done in jest, but to be honest, I was so absorbed by the jovial nature of the soon-to-be priest across from us that I was unaffected by everything. We continued talking until we arrived at our stop, said our goodbyes, and got off the tram.
Looking back, what has made that memory so singular and special to me is not the fact that I had a beer with a man of the cloth, but that it was possible to have a genuine encounter with someone whose very appearance was a loaded stereotype. I’m well aware about the open drinking culture in Germany and that such a scenario is not uncommon there, but that congenial exchange could not happen in America. The spiritual climate simply won’t allow it. The obvious cultural rift that is the separation of church and state causes a lot of tension, and I’m not saying Germany doesn’t have its own problems concerning the church and its role in society. But it was nice being in a place where the two, for once, converged. That being said, I also learned never to drink a hefeweizen in the Vaterland without a proper glass, and that’s something both the church and state can agree on.
