Kozarska Dubica // Worship and Tribute

I have never been to a monastery at night.

You can never really plan what will make people laugh. You just don’t know. Of course, if you are a standup comedian, this changes, but I am not a standup comedian. I am a simple man, from a simple town, with simple desires. There have been things that I thought would guarantee chuckles that brought only crickets.

But there we were, in a restaurant in the centre of Kozarska Dubica, in stitches because of a comment about visiting monasteries. I wasn’t entirely sure if it was true, either. Had I been to a monastery at night? I don’t remember. I’m 37. It all blends into one.

This was all happening at the end of a gorgeous day in Kozarska Dubica, a fact that should be clear thanks to the whole ‘at night’ thing. Previously called Bosanska Dubica, Kozarska Dubica was further proof (if proof were needed) that people in the very north of Bosnia and Herzegovina are the friendliest in the country. My day had been spent in the excellent company of Jelena and Božena, and much of it had been spent giggling and smiling about all things. Good people are good people, but these were some magnificently good people.

What is there to say about Kozarska Dubica? Well, there is a monument to milk on a roundabout in the centre of town. Make of that what you will, but everyone I asked was sort of embarrassed by the thing. The more I think of it, the more that makes sense. Milk is for babies, after all.

The history of Kozarska Dubica touches on familiar notes. It was first mentioned in the 13th century as Castrum, although most agree that it has its origins in the 10th century. That depends on your definition of ‘origins’, but let’s not piss about. The Ottomans took over in the 16th century, and the vicious war of 1788-91 obliterated the town. The name? Well, the Kozarska part is self-explanatory, but Dubica? Prevailing wisdom suggests it comes from the word for ‘oak’, and the etymological snake keeps its tail (or its head?) with the traditional Dubnica, a bot dub into an oak trunk. Philip Zepter was born here, although he wasn’t born Philip Zepter. He was born Milan Janković.

We wandered around the centre of town, enjoying the gorgeous weather and discussing everything from decaying architecture to hotel breakfasts. The centre of Kozarska Dubica has more of the former than the latter, of course, but it soon became apparent that bricks and mortar were secondary to laughter and conversation. Yes, Kozarska Dubica is a charming place, but those charms were accentuated by the effervescent conviviality of Jelena and Božena. If you are reading this, the cheque is in the mail.

The centre of Kozarska Dubica has a couple of impressive mosques and two beautiful churches, but it was difficult to fully engage with them. Why? Well, that is largely on me and my wandering mind, but there is something about town centre churches that doesn’t really click. This isn’t just only the case in Kozarska Dubica. My assumption is that churches are supposed to represent houses of serenity, but this is difficult to achieve next to roaring engines and bleating horns.

The answer to my qualms about modern churches was found at Moštanica. What is wrong with churches these days? That is above my pay grade, but the peace at Moštanica was an example of everything that is right with monasteries. The history of Christianity is tumultuous, every bit as tumultuous as other religions that seem to have been tarnished with the tumultuous brush. Christianity is a religion that cannibalised itself over proper worship and corrupt tribute. When other religions were focusing on creativity, innovation and development, Christianity was burning other Christians for not being Christian enough.

But that misses the point, or at least what I presume the point to be. Faith is about inner peace. It is about finding a space where everything is calm, where the mania and chaos of existence are tempered by serenity, the understanding that we are all a part of something special. Faith is an arm around the shoulder, a comforting word, a reminder that everything is going to be okay. Well, that is what it should be.

Moštanica was all of this and more. A tranquil setting next to a stream in the forests of Kozara, the complex was large without being imposing. Quite the opposite, in fact. Moštanica is a significant monastery that felt like an old friend. More accurately, it felt like a friendly teacher from years gone by. Moštanica was Mr Ashton. Moštanica was Mark Hamill.

All of which is fairly ironic, although it feels wrong to evoke irony before talking about violence. The history of Moštanica belies its calming aura. Legend has it that the monastery had been burnt down and rebuilt at least nine times, which is nine times too many if you are asking me. How you view this will depend on your mood. You can look at the sadness of it being burnt nine times, or you can focus on the fortitude required to rebuild it every time. Sure, Ric Flair’s 16 world championships are impressive, but that overlooks the fact that he lost the title 15 times.

The Nature Boy was not on my mind as we wandered around the monastery grounds. A stunning expanse of medieval charm, Moštanica dates back to the 12th century and is dedicated to the Archangel Michael, although its dedication isn’t even the tip of the iceberg. Some say that it was built on the very spot where Saint Theodore Tyron died, while others suggest it was constructed as an endowment from the mighty Nemanjić Dynasty. Whatever the story, Moštanica was important from the get-go.

But again, importance has nothing to do with why monasteries are what churches claim to be. If you are seeking importance, you are setting yourself up to fail. Churches fall short precisely because of their settings. The need to be in the centre of town means peace is dulled by traffic. Tell the world you are outstanding, and you can only be disappointing. The churches in the heart of Kozarska Dubica were gorgeous in their own right, but this famous monastery 12km from town was the true heart of Christendom here.

Faith isn’t about buildings, frescoes, or history. Faith is other people. Faith is the tender joy of enjoying the company of strangers. We drove back to Kozarska Dubica, where I was dropped off at the hotel. We exchanged big hugs and called it a day, sated by the vindication of optimism and the magic of good people.

I have now been to a monastery night, and it was magnificent.

Kozarska Dubica // Worship and Tribute

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