Julie Yelle on the Public Celebration of Religious Holidays in France
By: Julie Yelle
March 20, 2007
Yuletide in Menton, France announced itself this year with the sudden
appearance of winter decorations adorning the towns, shops bursting at the
seams with Yule logs and baskets of the “desserts of Eden,” carols
proclaiming the birth of the divine child flooded the streets, and even the
transformation of the local gardens into a “Santa's ark” with giraffes,
elephants, seals, donkeys, and an ostrich. Down the street in my host
town of Menton on the water were rows of
booths where artisans, including several from the Holy
Land, sold their wares to those frequenting the town's Christmas
market. Come pre-Lenten season, the same garden contained sculptures of
the Taj Mahal and an enormous Buddha-like statue (the theme this year was India), with the
occasional windmill constructed entirely out of citrus fruit.
The visibility of celebrations with a religious tone seems to run counter to French policy which ostensibly sets religion squarely in the private domain. On the other hand, the holiday celebrations of France, a traditionally Catholic country, seem to have taken on a life of their own and become so fully ingrained in the cultural life of the society at large that religious background and beliefs no longer seem to be criteria for participation in the holiday festivities. After all, while Christmas is still a day to spend with family and friends, exchange gifts around the tree, and savour the tastes and smells of holidays meals and sweets, never once did I hear Christmas day referred to as such outside of church; rather, all the fanfare was centered around December 25. The parades, candy stands, fireworks, spectacles, and other Carnival festivities extended well past Mardi Gras, providing plenty of minor temptations for anyone who might have resolved to commit themselves to meditative spiritually during the traditionally sober season of Lent.
The existence of large-scale celebrations that are religious at the origin but whose transfer to the public domain have rendered them devoid of any specific spiritual content may in fact leave devout individuals feeling as though their religious traditions have been expropriated for commercial and touristic purposes. Yet the same sort of celebrations on the same scale from another religious tradition would not likely be equally well-received but rather considered to be a breach of the private domain into the public domain. In the end, the nuances of the policy of laïcité and the line between the private and public realms of religion in France remain to be clarified.
The existence of large-scale celebrations that are religious at the origin but whose transfer to the public domain have rendered them devoid of any specific spiritual content may in fact leave devout individuals feeling as though their religious traditions have been expropriated for commercial and touristic purposes. Yet the same sort of celebrations on the same scale from another religious tradition would not likely be equally well-received but rather considered to be a breach of the private domain into the public domain. In the end, the nuances of the policy of laïcité and the line between the private and public realms of religion in France remain to be clarified.
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