The family was very gracious about me showing up with my host parents despite how personal the occasion was. I won’t really go into the service or memorial; it was a moment which was very simply not about me.
I was excited to see the mass, since I wanted to compare it to the Catholic masses I attended with my family at home. But before describing it, perhaps I should describe what I can tell about religion in France. Historically, France has a very strong Roman Catholic tradition. Certainly, they had a Protestant presence, notably in the context of the Hundred Years War which included several massacres of said Protestants. However, French society has always been nearly entirely Catholic, and to this day even the tiniest village has a grand old Church at its center and the school vacations are scheduled around All Saints’ Day, Christmas, and Easter. Most weddings, funerals, and baptisms are celebrated in church.
Yet France is at the same time very secular. Mass is hardly attended by most people outside of the special occasions I listed and public displays of religion aren’t quite considered polite. (This, I think, stems from the struggle they had to separate religion and government. The French revolution wasn’t exactly a smooth transition from the ideology of divine right, so the secularism of government is guarded fiercely here.) You may have heard about the issues surrounding Islamic veils in France? Well, girls aren’t allowed to hear their headscarves to public schools here because all displays of religion are forbidden in public schools. Technically, the same principle applies to wearing crucifixes. But this isn’t the post to go into issues regarding the integration of Muslim immigrants in France. In fact, I won’t even pretend to understand the subtleties of that social issue.
Before attending the mass, I had been wondering why such a strong religious tradition had been somewhat lost in modern France. I think that today I have discovered the answer: those old churches aren’t heated. At least not enough for the small congregation to even loosen their winter coats. Moreover, the mass was, just as my host family warned me, far more solemn than I was used to at home. The tone of the songs, to some of which the lyrics were familiar, were, in the words my host mother said, lugubre (which translates conveniently to ‘lugubrious’. I just love cognates. They make my life so much easier). If the Vatican wants my advice on how to increase religious participation in France I have two suggestions: happier songs and space heaters. But otherwise, it was nice to finally see a mass in one of the beautiful churches I had been admiring for so long.
After the mass and coffee with my host dad’s family, we left to have lunch with my host mother’s family who lives nearby. Both my host mom and host dad grew up in the true countryside, not too far away from each other. When we left we had a box of meat from the neighborhood of my host mom’s parents and some cheese from my host dad’s brother’s farm. I can also personally attest to the quality of the potatoes, green beans, apples, apply juice, and various other products produced on or near the farm Laurie’s Mamie and Papie. For lunch, we had a salad which included duck gizzards, hard boiled eggs, tomatoes, and lettuce. It was very good, I recommend it if you have the courage! The main course was a roast with garden potatoes, the cheese course included the cheese from my host father’s brother’s farm, and desert was a prune tart. The tart was also a lot better than it sounds, as the prunes were cooked in tea before being made into the filling. It was all delicious. My advice to travels is not to be afraid to try things like duck gizzards and prune tarts- because you just may find them to be delicious!
The farm house was old, old enough for both my host mom’s parents to have been born in it. (Her father’s family moved after he was born, in time for her mother’s family to move in and give birth to her. How’s that for fate?) The ancient stables have now been converted to a party room, but still retain the mangers, which I’m told that the little children actually do sleep in when the family parties go late.
I thought that I had seen the French country side before today, but I really hadn’t. It was so beautiful and peaceful it actually gave me a new appreciation for pastoral poetry. Before I had thought that Wordsworth was overrated, but having seen the beauty of the countryside, I can understand what he was so excited about. The farms, fields, and forest can indeed be described ‘quaint’ and ‘charming’ as they so often are. But they contain their own majesty, quieter but no less impressive magnitude of Nature found in the US.
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