A Dutch Pilgrimage to Riga’s Timeless Maria Magdalena Church

In 2016, a diverse group from the Bom­me­ler­waard parish in the Netherlands embarked on an enriching exchange journey. Sixteen participants boarded a two-hour flight from Eindhoven Airport to one of Europe's most enchan­ting cities: Riga, Latvia, for a five-day educational and ecumenical adventure. Primarily Catholic, the group also included two Pro­tes­tants, foste­ring open dialogues on faith, personal stories, and everyday life.

Organized by the Foundation House of Unity with its ecumenical mission at heart, the trip featured visits to various sacred sites: Lutheran social projects provi­ding meals for the homeless, an Orthodox service in a serene monastery, and a Catholic Mass on historic "Dutch benches" in Riga's Maria Magdalena Church - originally from a church in Blerick. Particularly poignant was the presence of members from the Catholic communities in Rossum and Hurwenen, whose churches had closed their doors years earlier. Yet, in a touching twist of fate, the bell from Hurwenen's chapel now rings inside Maria Magdalena to signal the start of Holy Mass, while Rossum's bell has found a new home there too.

After a lengthy process to install these bells, we witnessed their endu­ring legacy years later. Though the tower of Maria Magdalena is rarely open, I discovered a note in the ancient monastery church revealing the true origins of Rossum's bell. Latvians deeply che­rish their history and culture as pillars of identity and dignity.

This remarkable church, built in stone just outside Riga's medieval city walls at the end of the 13th or early 14th century, originally served as a chapel for a Cistercian nuns' monastery. Nestled near the Jacobs Church - a modest chapel for the local Livonian population - it contrasted with the grand Dom Ca­the­dral (now Lutheran), erected by German powers for the bishop.

Maria Magdalena endured as one of the few Catholic havens during the Reformation in the early 15th century, symboli­zing inner freedom and reflection. Devastated during the Polish-Swedish War (1621-1632), it was rebuilt under Swedish rule as a Lutheran garrison church. In 1710, amid the Russian siege, it burned down once more; Tsar Peter the Great restored it, rena­ming it St. Peter's and gif­ting it to the Orthodox Church - evi­dent today in its ornate Orthodox ceiling.

Finally, in 1922-1923, with Latvia's newfound indepen­dence, the buil­ding returned to Catholic hands, reclai­ming its role as a vibrant parish church. This journey not only bridged cultures and faiths but also wove threads of shared history, remin­ding us of the timeless resonance of unity.