My French Christmas wisdom - Monsieur 23, the Iranians, and the Halal shawarma

It was a much shorter queue than last year’s at the Vatican’s Saint Peter’s Basilica, but it still took nearly an hour to get inside the Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris, a gorgeous (and huge) example of gothic architecture which was built over two centuries, beginning in 1163.

And we didn’t get to sit down, either, but watched the ceremony standing on the sides.

We were surrounded mainly by foreigners: lots of Americans (including a couple behind us who was commenting on how people would be queuing at the Pearly Gates of Heaven... argh!), some Brits, Japanese, and a very nervous short Chinese guy with an SLR camera who kept knocking everyone’s head with his camera’s objective, and whom we nicknamed the Lobster - الكركند - for the evening.

We entered, and found ourselves stuck in what is normally the visit path, and could barely see anything. Nevertheless, hopeful ones occasionally took a photograph here and there, and a Spanish chap actually had his hand raised with the camera for the full hour of the service, recording it.

Now that’s devotion.

And, you know, cramps.

Led by the Archevèque de Paris (Archbishop) André Vingt-Trois (Vingt-Trois is his actual last name, not a succession number of a religious title like Benedict XVI!), the ceremony was nearly an hour and included various stories, songs - good choir! - and prayers. A numerous hats by the Archbishop: the big, high hat, the small red cap, and then no hat at all, then the small red one again...

I’ve always enjoyed Christmas mass. (and no, not because of the hats. I really do.)

We heard the story of the voyage from Nazareth to Bethlehem - which apparently took place because the Roman emperor Quirinius decided to undertake the first census and asked people to register in their places of origin; Joseph being from Bethlehem, the holy family thus had to travel there, where Mary eventually gave birth.

And the Archevèque’s address made me smile - he was saying that “the people staying at home with their champagne and expensive food are trying to forget the misery in the world, whereas they should be here, and embrace Jesus’ love as the way to fight misery in the world...

A nice topic of the sermon, too, was that Jesus-Christ was sent as the Saviour, not by being, well, a big guy who will punch Evil on the nose and everyone will live happily ever after (well, I’m paraphrasing!!) but he arrived as a weak, helpless baby, lying in a manger, and that it was the power of Love (not, not Celine Dion’s song) that was the way for salvation.

Salvation, victory through weakness. Interesting concept, I thought.

Baby Jesus was born in a manger of marble, amongst vanilla-scented candles.

The service was, except for some prayers, conducted entirely in French. I had wrongfully assumed that this Being the Notre-Dame, some elements of foreign languages would be included. Na’ah. We had it Allé-lou-ïlla-style all evening.

I am a bit of liturgical puritan, and to some extent translating everything to local languages makes me wince a little. Were I Catholic, I’m pretty sure my prayers would in Latin... Seriously, doesn’t “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti” sound so much cooler?

Though I do acknowledge the necessity for translating the liturgy into local languages (which I have saluted several times during my trips to non-Arabophone Muslim countries, such as Indonesia or Kosova).

And of course, the French will be French, and people were still bitching at one another INSIDE the church. Seriously, the attitude! During Christmas mass!

One woman started shouting - shouting! - at an Australian man behind her: “stay away from me! He’s been rubbing himself against me all night and now he just grabbed my hand!”

The man, holding a camera with one hand and standing next to his wife who was actually behind the screaming woman - blinked a few times in disbelief. Or lack of comprehension.

Another woman was giving a man some serious attitude - “hey, if you already got communion don’t just stand there in the line!”. There was no line though and the man hadn’t had communion yet but oh well.

'Want a sip?'

Outside the Church were random beggars, and some tanned-skinned demonstrators. Roms, I wondered? Hmmm, no. More Middle Eastern...

And they turned out to be Iranians from Mujahedin-e-Khalq, an armed and militant group in Iran that opposes the government, and whose members and their families - thousands, according to their flyer (which was titled “Save the defenders of Freedom” (huh???)) - were refugees in Iraq.

They were seeking support to fight their potential deportation from Iraq and into Iran or to a third country, as the new Iraqi government, trying to consolidate ties with Iran, was suggesting.

I thought it was funny that anyone was fighting to stay in Iraq. Omar thought it was funny they were demonstrating outside of a basilica on Christmas eve.

Then, to celebrate Christmas, we went for a (halal) shawarma.

No, not from this one - too shady, even for me. But this one was parked right outside of the basilica.