sacré-cœur

16Oct07

As i made my way back to the apartment, down the beautiful cobblestone streets of montmartre, i thought about what i would write here. i thought i could write about my evening by the canal with an american, or what it was like to be surrounded by the louvre while listening to feist on my ipod. i could detail my rendez-vous with a german by the pyramid, the eating of artichoke hearts and meanderings in st.germaine. or i could simply write about how beautiful the men are here in paris, and how every ten minutes a man walks by who grabs my attention (which, um, never happens in toronto). but instead, i have opted to be honest about something strange that happened to me today. because i guess great writing must come from an honest place, and not to assume this is going to be great, but i realize that in order to get anywhere, i have to forfeit any kind of judgement that might come as a result of being so open.

so let’s back up a second. today was the the first day i have ever eaten lunch, at a restaurant, by myself. what? yes. i am a thirty one year old woman, and other than perhaps sitting in a fast food place (which i actually never recall doing) i have never in my life ever needed to sit down in a restaurant, and eat alone. traveling in paris by myself, i realized this would soon happen, although up until this point i have not been alone at all. but it happened this afternoon, and it was lovely.

after lunch i meandered through montmartre, heading up to see the moulin rouge, and then following the winding streets making my way up to the sacré coeur. i didn’t particulary want to see this church, i have seen a million churches, but i was looking for destinations that would take me through the streets so that i could get a sense of this part of the city. i made my way along small, almost alleyway-like streets, up stairs, around paths, realizing that i had come to the area that had the most beautiful view of the city. i took a few pictures, sat on the steps, listened to some performers, watched tourists. (side note: i have specifically tried to not look like a tourist, so that i don’t look like a woman traveling by herself. even a the cost of comfort, i am attempting to look like i live here, and it’s working! french people are asking me for directions all the time). ok. so i decided to go into the church. i was really just going in because i thought, well, i’m here.

i went in. and for some reason, instead of following the crowd around the the left to do the circuit of the inside of the church, as it is with every church, in every city, i instead sat down right away. unlike other churches, everyone had to be super quiet in here. and really, there was nothing particularly beautiful or special about this church, and i have been to very special churches before (like, um, yesterday). but this was the first time i had ever been to a church, completely by myself. and so i sat there, looking up at the dome, at the apse with a giant byzantine inspired jesus looking down on me, his golden heart pounding out of his chest. and, with no warning at all, i started to cry. and not just a tear or two, but really sobbing. surrounded by tourists, tears were rolling down my cheeks and i couldn’t stop it.

and for the first time ever in my life, i actually when through those little doors to join the people who were praying. i didn’t necessarily do this so that people wouldn’t see my crying, i just felt like i needed to go up there. that for some reason, although i am not catholic, i felt like i belonged up there, i needed to be there, and something was beckoning me there. and so there i was, in the fourth pew underneath a towering gold jesus, uncontrollably bawling my eyes out. after using up all the kleenex in my purse, i realized i had to get this under control. i breathed deeply just as two nuns came down and sat in front of me. they kneeled down (on the thing that i thought was just to rest your feet) and began to pray. it made me think of mother teresa, and the letters being published in which she openly questions her faith in god. and i thought, even for someone as spiritual as mother teresa, the only thing she could ever do is try, try again and pray. and so i decided to pray. but i only knew one christian prayer:

“Our Father, which art in Heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name.
Thy Kingdom come.
Thy will be done,
in earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those that trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation;
But deliver us from evil.
[For thine is the kingdom, The power, and the glory,
For ever and ever.] Amen.”

as we forgive those that trespass against us. the tears began to flow again. and i realized… i have a bit of work to do. and i have to get some more kleenex.

Filed under: paris   |  Leave a Comment
Tags: , church, paris, religion