I can't count the number of times I have heard someone say, "There's not that much religion in France." While the majority of French citizens come from a Catholic background, and there are sizable Muslim and Jewish populations, most citizens are non-practicing or non-religious.
Since 1905, the French government has prided itself on laïcité, the total separation of religion and state. The goal is for religion to be relegated to the private sphere.
Though religious practice has decreased significantly in today's secular France, the role of religion in the collective memory of the French is undeniable. On the streets of Paris, reminders of Catholicism are particularly prevalent. Most stores are closed on Sunday. And there are more cathedrals on every block than Starbucks stores. While these cathedrals might be popular as tourist attractions rather than as places of worship, their distinctive architecture and commanding presence render them central to the collective consciousness of pedestrians. Theres always Notre Dame de Paris or Sacré Coeur in the skyline. These symbolic relics are major tourist attractions, indicating the relevance of their rich history in understanding Paris today.
Catholicism is present as an overt part of French collective consciousness, but Judaism occupies a different place in Frances identity. Judaism is arguably not as integral a part of French history, though Jews in France have a long and unique history unto themselves. Most notably, in the sixteenth century, exiled Jews relocated in southwest France under the Spanish Inquisition. The French Revolution made France the first country in Europe to emancipate and integrate Jews into their state. In the mid-twentieth century, a large number of Sephardic Jews immigrated to France from the Maghreb. Today, the Jewish People Policy Planning Institute estimates 500,000 Jews in France, 350,000 of which live in Paris and its suburbs.
The large Jewish population in Paris, like the Catholic population, ranges from secular to ultra-Orthodox. Due to differences in history and population, Judaism occupies a place in the public sphere distinct from that of Catholicism. Stores are open on Saturday, except for in the Jewish quarter. And synagogues do not line every block. Current Jewish life is more hidden from public view. While some synagogues are large, eye-catching, and adorned with stars of David, most are tucked away. One synagogue I went to was situated next to a bowling alley and looked like an office building from the outside, but upon entry I discovered a glowing and rosy lobby and a spacious sanctuary. At another synagogue, I thought I was lost because I found myself in what appeared to be an apartment complex. This time, I had to be buzzed in by a security guard. A third was an absolute maze to find and was locked completely until the start of the prayer service, an hour later. In Paris, Judaism must be sought out.
Although Judaism is not visible at first glance, it remains in the consciousness of most French citizens. I have been told several times that as soon as I introduce myself, people know that I am Jewish. The name Rachel is not as common in France as it is in the United States, but of the French Rachels, most are Jewish. Just last week, I introduced myself and was asked immediately, "Have you been to the synagogue in the Marais [the Jewish quarter]?" In a secular society, I would not expect such a quick reaction, grounded in religion. What this shows is an awareness of Judaism, despite France's widespread non-religiosity.
Religion in France is not purely a private matter. It might not be recognized in public institutions or practiced as often, but religion is critically central to French collective consciousness. Catholicism is prevalent in daily life due to its centrality in public spaces. Judaism, however, is more hidden physically in part because of its more marginal role in French history, but remains sturdily understood. Even if religiosity is decreasing in France, religion remains a central institution in the collective consciousness of French citizens.
Though religious practice has decreased significantly in today's secular France, the role of religion in the collective memory of the French is undeniable. On the streets of Paris, reminders of Catholicism are particularly prevalent. Most stores are closed on Sunday. And there are more cathedrals on every block than Starbucks stores. While these cathedrals might be popular as tourist attractions rather than as places of worship, their distinctive architecture and commanding presence render them central to the collective consciousness of pedestrians. Theres always Notre Dame de Paris or Sacré Coeur in the skyline. These symbolic relics are major tourist attractions, indicating the relevance of their rich history in understanding Paris today.
Catholicism is present as an overt part of French collective consciousness, but Judaism occupies a different place in Frances identity. Judaism is arguably not as integral a part of French history, though Jews in France have a long and unique history unto themselves. Most notably, in the sixteenth century, exiled Jews relocated in southwest France under the Spanish Inquisition. The French Revolution made France the first country in Europe to emancipate and integrate Jews into their state. In the mid-twentieth century, a large number of Sephardic Jews immigrated to France from the Maghreb. Today, the Jewish People Policy Planning Institute estimates 500,000 Jews in France, 350,000 of which live in Paris and its suburbs.
The large Jewish population in Paris, like the Catholic population, ranges from secular to ultra-Orthodox. Due to differences in history and population, Judaism occupies a place in the public sphere distinct from that of Catholicism. Stores are open on Saturday, except for in the Jewish quarter. And synagogues do not line every block. Current Jewish life is more hidden from public view. While some synagogues are large, eye-catching, and adorned with stars of David, most are tucked away. One synagogue I went to was situated next to a bowling alley and looked like an office building from the outside, but upon entry I discovered a glowing and rosy lobby and a spacious sanctuary. At another synagogue, I thought I was lost because I found myself in what appeared to be an apartment complex. This time, I had to be buzzed in by a security guard. A third was an absolute maze to find and was locked completely until the start of the prayer service, an hour later. In Paris, Judaism must be sought out.
Although Judaism is not visible at first glance, it remains in the consciousness of most French citizens. I have been told several times that as soon as I introduce myself, people know that I am Jewish. The name Rachel is not as common in France as it is in the United States, but of the French Rachels, most are Jewish. Just last week, I introduced myself and was asked immediately, "Have you been to the synagogue in the Marais [the Jewish quarter]?" In a secular society, I would not expect such a quick reaction, grounded in religion. What this shows is an awareness of Judaism, despite France's widespread non-religiosity.
Religion in France is not purely a private matter. It might not be recognized in public institutions or practiced as often, but religion is critically central to French collective consciousness. Catholicism is prevalent in daily life due to its centrality in public spaces. Judaism, however, is more hidden physically in part because of its more marginal role in French history, but remains sturdily understood. Even if religiosity is decreasing in France, religion remains a central institution in the collective consciousness of French citizens.
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