In my first letter from abroad, I focused on secularism in French culture, politics and society, reflecting upon the experiences I encountered in my first month in Paris, France.
Now, having been here for almost five months, I feel more like a Parisian in many ways: my French has improved immensely; I know the city very well and can walk around without looking like a tourist—which is true success! However, although I feel more like a Parisian in many ways, I still find myself puzzled when I try to fully understand the relationship between religion, culture, and society here.
Sometimes I am reminded that no matter how much I start to feel like a regular Parisian, I'm still just an American living in Paris, and my experiences on Ash Wednesday are a perfect example of this! On Ash Wednesday, I met up with three of my American friends to go to Mass and receive ashes at Notre Dame Cathedral. Mass was supposed to start at noon, but if you have ever visited Notre Dame, you know that it is quite big in size, so we planned on meeting around 11:30 in order to make sure that we found seats close enough to the altar, etc. However, when we walked into the cathedral around 11:40, we were shocked to see that it was practically empty. In fact, there were more tourists walking around the perimeters of the cathedral than there were people attending Mass. I was shocked because although France is secular, it still remains a primarily Catholic country. As I explained in my first letter from abroad, the Catholic identity is still a significant part of French culture and history. However, despite the lack of people celebrating Mass, the Mass was very extravagant in decoration, which accompanied many priests and deacons, a full choir, numerous lectors, etc. It was a beautiful, over the top celebration that was just missing one thing: a crowd of practicing Catholics to appreciate, or as the French say profiter from it.
Another thing that struck me was that despite the extravagance of the Mass, the ashes that were placed on our foreheads were a very pale gray, so much that one would have to take a good look to realize that they were even there. I was taken aback by this because I grew up in a very Catholic community, attending Catholic schools all of my life, receiving very dark ashes on Ash Wednesday, and feeling bad if I accidentally rubbed some off unintentionally by scratching my forehead. So, the fact that these ashes were basically invisible made me question whether that is done on purpose, and if so, what the reasoning was behind it. Were the ashes a light dusty gray so that Catholics who receive them won't have to face strange looks all day, as their ashes are practically invisible? Or is this done so that ashes aren't breaking the rules of secularism, by being religious symbols portrayed and expressed in public? All of these thoughts brought me back to the historical context in which religion is placed in French culture and society. For the French, with the mention of religion comes its role in French history from the Crusades to the power of the Vatican in European politics and relations.
However, after leaving Mass on Ash Wednesday, I thought to myself, "It's Ash Wednesday, even those who aren't adamant church-goers at least go to Mass on three occasions: Christmas, Ash Wednesday, and Easter." Forty days later, I found myself at Notre Dame Cathedral again for Easter Mass, and this time, not arriving a half hour in advance was a mistake because the cathedral was completely packed. Again, I found myself a little confused when I walked in. However, as the extravagant Mass went on, I started to notice that sure the cathedral was packed, but it was full of tourists and not full of French people. Even on Easter, one of the most important Catholic holidays, it seemed as if Notre Dame was more for tourists than the religious. It was as if the extravagant Mass was more of a performance or spectacle for the tourists than an actual Mass. This led me to think that maybe the beautiful and glorious cathedrals found in Paris and elsewhere in France are more inviting to tourists than to people practicing their faith. Perhaps this is why the thought of religion in France provokes thoughts of either historical struggles or current frustration. Perhaps this may begin to explain why 65 percent of the French population identify themselves as Catholic, whereas only 5 percent are practicing.
Sometimes I am reminded that no matter how much I start to feel like a regular Parisian, I'm still just an American living in Paris, and my experiences on Ash Wednesday are a perfect example of this! On Ash Wednesday, I met up with three of my American friends to go to Mass and receive ashes at Notre Dame Cathedral. Mass was supposed to start at noon, but if you have ever visited Notre Dame, you know that it is quite big in size, so we planned on meeting around 11:30 in order to make sure that we found seats close enough to the altar, etc. However, when we walked into the cathedral around 11:40, we were shocked to see that it was practically empty. In fact, there were more tourists walking around the perimeters of the cathedral than there were people attending Mass. I was shocked because although France is secular, it still remains a primarily Catholic country. As I explained in my first letter from abroad, the Catholic identity is still a significant part of French culture and history. However, despite the lack of people celebrating Mass, the Mass was very extravagant in decoration, which accompanied many priests and deacons, a full choir, numerous lectors, etc. It was a beautiful, over the top celebration that was just missing one thing: a crowd of practicing Catholics to appreciate, or as the French say profiter from it.
Another thing that struck me was that despite the extravagance of the Mass, the ashes that were placed on our foreheads were a very pale gray, so much that one would have to take a good look to realize that they were even there. I was taken aback by this because I grew up in a very Catholic community, attending Catholic schools all of my life, receiving very dark ashes on Ash Wednesday, and feeling bad if I accidentally rubbed some off unintentionally by scratching my forehead. So, the fact that these ashes were basically invisible made me question whether that is done on purpose, and if so, what the reasoning was behind it. Were the ashes a light dusty gray so that Catholics who receive them won't have to face strange looks all day, as their ashes are practically invisible? Or is this done so that ashes aren't breaking the rules of secularism, by being religious symbols portrayed and expressed in public? All of these thoughts brought me back to the historical context in which religion is placed in French culture and society. For the French, with the mention of religion comes its role in French history from the Crusades to the power of the Vatican in European politics and relations.
However, after leaving Mass on Ash Wednesday, I thought to myself, "It's Ash Wednesday, even those who aren't adamant church-goers at least go to Mass on three occasions: Christmas, Ash Wednesday, and Easter." Forty days later, I found myself at Notre Dame Cathedral again for Easter Mass, and this time, not arriving a half hour in advance was a mistake because the cathedral was completely packed. Again, I found myself a little confused when I walked in. However, as the extravagant Mass went on, I started to notice that sure the cathedral was packed, but it was full of tourists and not full of French people. Even on Easter, one of the most important Catholic holidays, it seemed as if Notre Dame was more for tourists than the religious. It was as if the extravagant Mass was more of a performance or spectacle for the tourists than an actual Mass. This led me to think that maybe the beautiful and glorious cathedrals found in Paris and elsewhere in France are more inviting to tourists than to people practicing their faith. Perhaps this is why the thought of religion in France provokes thoughts of either historical struggles or current frustration. Perhaps this may begin to explain why 65 percent of the French population identify themselves as Catholic, whereas only 5 percent are practicing.
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