The sixth sense: understanding 

In a peculiar twist of fate, Église Évangélique de Perpignan, a church where je ne comprend pas anything that is spoken, has become my new home church. I can only make mild sense of this personal interest of mine. My entire stay in Perpignan has been compiled of wild fantasies of returning home where a mutual understanding exists between my neighbor and myself. That mutual understanding is speaking English. 

Ah, but another mutual understanding exists in my world, the mutual understanding of knowing God. When I first introduced myself to Église Évangélique de Perpignan’s pastor, Didier Santana, he asked if I knew God. He called me his sister in Christ, hence the feeling of an existing bond with a legitimate stranger. 

Je suis Americain, while everyone else at this church is French. After learning survival French phrases to assist me in navigating this town, I cannot quite hold my own ears during a two-hour sermon. But even with such a huge language barrier, the Lord’s message still comes through. I can still understand what these members of the congregation are doing. I can feel their emotions and love for God. 

I was enthralled to have another emotional experience watching a wedding after the church service. Two members of the congregation joined their lives and hearts before God, while I could not understand one single word that was spoken. Again, even with no understanding of the language, the emotions still came through. As I crouched behind my camera while filming this wedding, tears streamed down my face. “Why am I doing this? I don’t even know these people!” Although I have yet to meet this couple, their marriage still brought tears to my eyes through the power of emotional connection.

A smile is understood through all languages, and so  is an emotional experience. Église Évangélique de Perpignan ‘s congregation members bonded with me that Sunday through a sense of understanding that only brings pleasure. Once my American feet are off French soil, I hope I face joys like these- joys that once disguised themselves as challenges. 

My miraculous mirage

An Evangelical Christian girl ventures to France for her first time abroad and needs to satiate her need for religious fulfillment. She considers attending a Catholic mass regardless of her somewhat opposing beliefs. She briskly travels to and from French class every day, barely noticing her surroundings anymore. But in the distance, rich black text on white brick walls leaps into her field of vision as if God himself wrote the words “Église Évangélique de Perpignan.” I am this girl, and for a moment, I believed the church was a mirage in a desert.

 
As I meandered across the eerily green river, I noticed the French word for “Evangelical” on the wall of a building. The building is the home of the church  Église Évangélique de Perpignan, one of a few Evangelical churches in what I always assumed to be a completely Catholic country.
 
When one of my teachers here in Perpignan noticed the church, he was surprised and asked a French colleague about it. The colleague assumed he was mistaken. An Evangelical church, here? Surely, that must be incorrect. But upon further research,Église Évangélique de Perpignan was indeed a real sight and not the only one of its kind. I found 7 churches similar in basis of religion around various areas in Perpignan.
           
Although the Pope resides in Italy, France has always seemed to in my mind to be another center of Catholicism. In America, by contrast, the Evangelical population has such a presence that it can make or break any given political issue. If a presidential candidate can reign in and lockdown the Evangelical vote, they can usually win 20 to 47 percent of the American voting population. Many politicians have blamed the lack of Evangelical votes for costing them elections. Given America’s huge Evangelical presence, my sighting of the Evangelical church in Perpignan was set up for a shock and awe response from the start.
 
This American Evangelical Christian girl will be trotting into a French Evangelical church service or two this week, eager to speak with the pastor about how he and his congregation ended up in this little Mediterranean town. Sorry, did I just say, “pastor” about a church in France instead of “priest?” The excitement must be clouding my vision.

Could it be that, in the comparisons between European countries and American states, only one of these cultures has the right answer regarding the most favorable way of life? These two sides of the world are so different that it seems that we both can’t be right.

Perhaps Americans are not enjoying all that our environment has to offer. On the other hand, Perpignan may have its priorities backwards when it comes to making a living.

The Americanized version of leisure does involve relaxation and communication in a social environment. But the level of leisure seems to be the absolute main priority here in Perpignan, while money reigns supreme in American culture. In Perpignan, businesses close for hours during the lunch area of the day for the simple reason that, quite frankly, it’s break time. The need to have a break during the day yields more importance than the idea of a business gathering any additional income during those lunch hours.

By the same token, waiters in restaurants do not immediately rush to get you to pay your bill in an effort to seat the next party at your table as quickly as possible. They don’t mind waiting to gather a payment until long after the meal is finished (and by “after the meal,” I mean hours after). The bill for dinner is not rushed to the table as the third bite of an entrée is taken.

Servers would rather know their customers are enjoying their time after a meal conversing and socializing than hurry to make their next buck or two. Speaking of making the next buck or two, tipping is unnecessary here. The idea that waiters can make a minimum wage proves much sense in the idea of diners lingering at the table. Perhaps American waiters work on tips in an effort to make the restaurant more money on turnover by rushing to the next set of tables. The “quality versus quantity” debate never ceases to arise in cross-cultural situations.

Multitasking seems prohibited here. Coffee is not offered as a “walk –and-talk” accessory for the morning sidewalk commute. Food untouched during an after-work bite is not taken home as leftovers.

Maybe since Perpignan is technically living in the future, they have the time to slow down. With America being six to nine hours behind Perpignan, perhaps the American way of hustle and bustle is just to play a good game of catch-up.