IAS 380R Midnight Mass in Paris

Small Cultural Proof

A day doesn't get much better than this. Christmas Eve in Paris was lovely.

Santons are a big deal in France. They're handmade and painted clay figures that make a Christmas village. You don't just have the manger and carolers. There's the whole lot: the baker, the butcher, the cheese man, the doctor, the gypsies, the teacher, the washerwoman, the blacksmith. The list goes on. Because they're so expensive they're often given as gifts. 

I once heard a man at a Christmas market ask if they had any doctors left. The woman said, "No, we're all out of doctors." He was kind of upset and took off to continue the hunt. I guess someone was sick.

I started my collection. Got a few townspeople and the manger scene, of course. Couldn't find an angel unfortunately. Oh, or a baby Jesus. Kind of a critical component.

 

The Gallaries Lafayette theme this year was Rock and Roll.

The Agenda for the night. Here's how it goes: Everyone does their last minute Christmas preparations during the day. Then, around 11, every good little Catholic marches off to Midnight Mass. If you want the full cultural experience, you go to Notre Dame de Paris. You all stand in line and cram inside as tight as can be. Then you wait. Meanwhile, the Pope is being televised outside the building on a huge screen and inside on several smaller screens.

 

We got there earlier, around 9pm, so what we saw was not technically Midnight Mass, but the presentation of baby Jesus. In France, baby Jesus does not appear in the nativity scene until Christmas Eve. So it's a big deal when he appears. The bishop in Notre Dame read some announcements and scriptures, then brought out the most enormous baby Jesus I've ever seen. Then he took the baby, holding him high above his head, and walked around, kind of by the North Transept and placed the baby in the crèche. Would've gotten a picture if I could've lifted my arms. But it was really neat and the people followed him around to watch.

Then everyone either waits for real midnight mass, or goes home and puts their own baby Jesus in the crèche. Most people left and a new flood came in. The whole process took less than an hour. That's plenty of religion to last until next year!

After baby Jesus is securely placed in the crèche at home with the rest of the town (the butcher and baker and sheep and goats) it's time to eat! In France it's not Christmas dinner that's the big one; it's Christmas Eve dinner. I really wanted my family to do this the correct way. The proper French way. After all, it was probably a once in a lifetime opportunity that we would all be in Paris for Christmas. However, we'd already pretty much blown it. Since we'd spend so long at Galleries Lafayette looking at the window displays, we sort of forgot about dinner. Have you seen A Christmas Story? Remember the dog ate the turkey and they ended up at an Asian restaurant? That was us this year. Only it was Indian.

However, after the more traditional French family eats a huge wonderful dinner, it's time for the Yule Log! This was strike two for the Americans. We forgot to get the Yule Log. HOW can anyone forget the Yule Log, you ask? Erm....I don't know. And believe me, we were sorely disappointed in ourselves. We knew all the bakeries would close early. So we just...forgot. I can't be held responsible. Far too many sparkly things around. Anyway, after we would've put the baby Jesus that we didn't have in our chèche, we would've eaten our Yule Log. The following picture is what my mother insisted on calling a Yule Log. I know. It's embarrassing. Tasted delicious, nonetheless. What can we say? We're American. We're innovative and creative and definitely know how to think outside the box and get a job done. Hello Yule Log. (Yes, that is pistachio ice cream that you see.)

Joyeax Noël!

 The day after Christmas we found a real Yule Log.