The team cleaning the toilets and showers meets at point 5. They sing a song about cleaning, grab brooms and buckets and then disappear in the direction of the camping site. There’s no staff providing this service. They’re all visitors of Taizé. It’s part of how this place, this community works. Part of the whole Taizé experience – not only the reflection and peaceful moments. Taizé keeps itself running.
Many say about Taizé, that the whole world comes together at one point. Although the majority is from Europe, you can meet people from every continent in this place. Some decide to stay for longer – weeks, months, years. These volunteers help in organisation, but Taizé still is a place where everyone is doing their part. Every task is a form of expression that belongs to this gathering.
Taizé is actually a very tiny dot on the map. A village in French Burgundy, barely 200 inhabitants, made famous by the Christian monastic community established in the 1940s. Its founder, Brother Roger, made a point: Sharing the love of a kind and compassionate God, regardless of the borders of countries, confessions and even faith itself. That, at least, is what I learned in Taizé, when I first arrived there as the atheist that I am: Taizé is a place for everyone. Whenever I told someone “I don’t believe in God”, no one said “Go away”, but rather “Tell me more”. Even the prayers surprised me. They felt welcoming, not excluding. You don’t need to believe to feel something there.
So, everyone is welcome to join the weekly meetings on the site of Taizé. Week after week, year after year. People live a simple life there. Camping or sleeping in a shared barrack. Getting a job – from rubbish collection to cleaning pots in the kitchen. Going to prayer three times a day: simple, repetitive chants in candlelight and silence. Joining bible studies and discussions in sharing groups. It may sound boring, but the fact that during summertime thousands of people per week come to Taizé proves this wrong.
While people of all ages can come to Taizé, since the beginning it is a place especially for young people. Most visitors are younger than 30 years. What connects young people regardless of their country, language, social status or life planning? Questions about life, maybe fears and doubts about the future and the vastness of the world. When I came to Taizé the first time, I was 18 years old and had absolutely no clue what to do with my life. I was at a point where everything felt uncertain. In Taizé I didn’t receive any master plan. But I experienced community. The feeling: I am not alone with my questions.
The common ground, the main point of Taizé is not necessarily religion. It is the “spirit of Taizé”. Everyone who has ever been in Taizé knows it, but everyone struggles to explain it. I’ll try my best: It’s being a part of a big community from all over the world. All of them with open hearts, empathy and kindness for each other. Ready to share personal stories and emotions, and hear other people’s. Of course, let’s be honest, there’s also the holiday-factor. All of them are out of their daily routine, in another country, relaxed and open-minded. But of course, this cannot be the only factor, otherwise there would be a Taizé on every camping site around – even though the world could use it.
But still: Even Taizé isn’t some utopia where everyone thinks the same. The heterogeneity is part of it. People disagree – about faith, politics, life choices. Conversations can challenge you, make you uncomfortable. But that’s where the real strength lies: in the willingness to listen, to stay open even when perspectives clash, to find connection despite differences.
In the end, I think it’s the mix of many factors that creates this “spirit of Taizé”. And this spirit brings you different experiences, depending on which week you come, what people you meet, and most importantly: which mood and topics you bring to Taizé. There’s a saying: “Taizé never gives what you want, but what you need”. Everyone joining Taizé has a different point of view. Some come for spirituality and prayers. Some come for deep talks. Some come for friendly people. Some come for a nice camping-holiday in France. Community thrives there, despite everyone seeking different things and having different stories. A car full of five can come to Taizé – they’re at this place in the exact same week, with the exact same people – and all five of them can go home with a completely different experience.
All of those people bring their experience back home, and with it, a piece of Taizé spreads. Taizé is the initial point for something that can be found all over the world. Taizé-prayers, where people come together for services inspired by Taizé and sing its songs, are held on every continent. Some people attend Taizé-prayers, never having set foot in Taizé – touched by something that radiates from one single point across the world.
A friend of mine whom I met in Taizé, said “The world would be a better place, if everyone had been in Taizé at least once”. I wish it were that easy, but there’s a truth behind every metaphor, a wisdom behind every dream. So, I’d say it differently: The magic of Taizé is the connection between people, whose paths crossed in the most unlikely way in that small corner of France. Taizé is the starting point for friendships that last across Europe, across borders, across languages, across time. These connections, these friendships have brought so much good into the world, have enriched so many lives – mine included. Since that first visit at 18, I’ve returned to Taizé almost every year: nine times now. It became a fixed point in my calendar.
This place, this point persists there: week after week. So maybe that’s the point of Taizé. Being nothing fixed, nothing defined, nothing repeatable – but being a meeting point, a turning point, a starting point. The place remains, for those who want to come back when they need it.