Station: [4] The Spring, the Face, and the View

The spring in the Rock Church. And the legend of guilt, passion, and forgiveness.

Do you remember the end of the legend? Wyrich has completed his act of atonement. Then a spring gushes forth from the rock—a sign of forgiveness.

You could almost imagine it as a conversation.

“Is this just a beautiful story?” 
“No. The spring really exists.”

Right here, water has been flowing directly from the mountain for centuries. In the middle of a church. High above the town. And this spring is no mere attraction. It still flows today.

It was channeled during the major renovation of 1929. Since then, the water has flowed neatly beneath the church. People here have long known that water flows through this rock. They saw the damp walls in the nave. So what’s special isn’t the water in the mountain. What’s special is this place. Here, the water emerges in a concentrated, clear stream. A genuine spring right in the middle of the rock.

For the inhabitants of the old cave castle, this was of inestimable value. Their own water supply inside the mountain. Safe from any besiegers. It’s quite possible that this very spring was one of the reasons why they built here in the first place. First the castle. Then the church. Legend has turned it into the most beautiful thing a spring can be: a sign of grace.

If you now walk through the rear part of the church, it’s worth looking up into the western side aisle. There, beneath the base of the vault, a small painted head looks down at you. It dates from the time the church was built. It is believed to be a self-portrait of the master builder. His name has been forgotten. But his face has been gazing down for over 500 years at the people who marvel at his work. One can hardly imagine a more beautiful signature.

The small diamond-shaped coat of arms of the Lords of Daun also dates from the same period. It has been preserved at the base of a vault rib in the nave. Thus, the family that commissioned the church is still visible in stone today.

On the south side of the church hangs a painting that is particularly important to the history of this town: the painting of St. Sebastian. It is two and a half meters high, painted with resin-based oil paints on spruce wood, and was likely created around 1570 during the Renaissance. It consists of several panels. At the top, you can see the Resurrection of Christ and his Transfiguration on the mountain. Below is the actual family portrait. On the left stands Count Sebastian von Daun-Oberstein in magnificent armor with his three sons. On the right is Countess Elisabeth with her two daughters. All have their hands clasped in prayer.

Take a close look at the eldest son, Philipp Franz. You can recognize him by his triple gold necklace. He is buried in front of the altar of this church. And he shaped the future of the town. In 1609, he issued the first guild regulations for agate cutters. As early as 1603, he provided a building site for a grinding mill free of charge. That was probably not entirely altruistic. But it worked. He was the driving force behind part of Idar-Oberstein’s later significance as a gemstone town.

Thus, legend and reality intertwine here within a very small space. A spring in the rock. A face from the time of its construction. A family portrait with far-reaching consequences for the town. And in the end, this place itself remains the strongest symbol: awe-inspiring, quiet, and to this day imbued with a special presence.