Because this post is all of those things.
I don't know if I've ever mentioned this--and maybe I shouldn't, but here goes--my blog counts for homework.
Ohhhh no. Did you all just think I had lots to say? Well never fear, I could (and have) talked endlessly for hours to poor, defenseless victims whose only crime was asking me one question. Seriously, dying of boredom is not a fun way to die.
So, on with the execution. It's been a while since my last post and I suddenly realized,
where are all my cultural observations? To be perfectly honest, I never really had much culture shock, but there are two or three things that stand out to me. Lately, most of them center around Catholic culture in this area; by "this area" I mean the boonies.
I'm doing a research paper on the lingering effects of Catholicism in French education; I picked this topic 'cause it's a total softball. Catholic culture in general is quite interesting. In France in particular, it means you get a lot of public shrines decorated to the teeth, so there you go, already the effects are everywhere.
You also get a lot of people who hang around their local church for the sheer cultural history of it all, as opposed to any actual belief system. I felt kind of guilty interloping on their midnight mass when really, I have absolutely no intention of becoming a regular churchgoer.
C'est la vie. I'd have to guess that, given the rapid rate at which their parishes are shrinking, they'd welcome any kind of positive attention. Even from touristy gawkers like me.
The clergy task force is drying up. Less and less men are willing to even be Catholic, let alone take the priestly leap into eternal bachelorhood, so with a severe lack of qualified priests, they can't keep regular congregational meetings in every village. Sophie took us out to Commercy for midnight mass, because even though there's a darling Gothic church in every town center, most of them have fallen into disuse. They rotate the midnight mass to a different location every year.
So there are less priests. And the congregational skill sets are dwindling as well. Here's Commercy's ancient beast of an organ, which nobody knew how to play:
And so, as I believe I mentioned previously, they opted for Soulful Passionate Guitar Playing Man. He was a delightful replacement. Even though it usually takes two hands to play a guitar, he somehow managed to combine elements of interpretive dance with his performance. Oh, and at strategic points in the ceremony he sang backup into his microphone...it was a sung mass. On a soulfulness/sheer effort scale of 1-10, Guitar Man just goes way off that scale.
Now on to more serious matters. When they say the Catholic faith has a thing for Mary, you better believe that's the understatement of the century. I lost track of all the Mary shrines. Every nook, crack and cranny had one, which at certain times contained an element of peek-a-boo--this situation where you turn the corner and BOO! There's Mary again. In such a dimly lit, cavernous place, these things just sort of jump out at you.
This last one's got Joseph snuggled up in there too:
Speaking of Mary, I should really start documenting her presence around the village. Bar-le-Duc's main bridge has this fairly awesome Mary shrine built on it. Every couple streets you'll find a similar shrine; each one is the Madonna of something else (Madonna of the Rocks, Madonna of the Poor, etc. etc.)
I forget her official title but I really dig the Madonna statue who, as legend has it, opened her stony mouth in the 1500's to warn the village knights that invaders were coming over the hill behind the castle (which, unfortunately, burned in the Revolution). They say that because of this warning, the knights had just enough time to get their gear on and make a counter-attack; otherwise all would have been lost.
It's a charming story. Still, every time I see her statue and try to picture that little stone mouth talking, it seems to me that such a thing would be unbearably creepy. Especially given what she said. And the fact that her statue was originally part of the castle wall, which I've seen, and which is located in the midst of some intensely eerie dark woods. Gah!
All right, so my enthusiasm for this subject is petering out, but I just wanted to leave you with one last thing:
Yep, that's life-size.
I'll be back next time with some less obvious remarks, but until then, stay safe!
He's majorly bummed. Which is funny when you consider that by the end of this trip they were best buds and whenever we got in the car, Henry would peek at Don in the rear view mirror and smile and laugh.
