The Events of Sunday, April 24, 2011

                Do you remember our first Sunday? Remember on the second day of this year-long trip we visited that little country church in Mount Shasta, where we were a quarter of the congregation? Do you recall how they welcomed us and invited us to a picnic lunch in the park? Today we had a parallel church experience, here in the heartland of France.

                Lindsey wanted to make sure we found an English-speaking church on Easter, where we could celebrate the Resurrection. Her internet research revealed a few options nearby, and she found one church in the nearby town of Cahors with a “sunrise service”. So this morning we hustled ourselves through showers and a quick breakfast to get there before the 8:30 start. It is an Anglican Church congregation that uses a Catholic Church’s chapel for their weekly services.

                As we exited the car, an elderly couple greeted us – in English – and asked if we were here for church. The woman’s name was Mary, and we offered to help her carry in some flowers and food. She gave us a quick orientation to the church: “The first thing you need to know – the most important thing is – where is the loo.” And off she went to show Pam and Lindsey the restroom.

                Then she directed us downstairs to the chapel, where we found about a hundred folding wooden chairs set up around a well-equipped altar table. We were among the first to arrive, and, apart from a nod here and there, nobody greeted us. We had about ten minutes to wait before the service began, so we read through the liturgical order that was printed on our handouts. The chapel’s only light streamed through some stained-glass windows, so reading was difficult.

                As we waited, a few other elderly congregants entered and took a seat. Right at 8:30, three white-robed ministers entered the chapel. They walked behind the altar and took turns leading the liturgical service.

                After the scripted welcome, we heard four readings from Scripture. They were not at all what one might expect on an Easter morning: Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Exodus 14:10-15:1a; Baruch 3:9-15 and 3:52-4:4; and Romans 6:3-11. Yet as we heard these passages (so beautifully read by these British ex-patriots), the Easter message of good news shone through: God’s goodness is evident in Creation; he proved his goodness in history by rescuing his people Israel from Egyptian slavery; he shares his goodness in revealing Wisdom through his Word; and Christ’s goodness conquers sin and death, so that anyone who trusts him may inherit righteousness and life. There was no further sermon: the Word speaks for itself. The service closed with a hymn, new to us but not to the others.

                Then one of the frocked ministers invited us upstairs for breakfast. So all eighteen of us moved upstairs and found a place at the table. There was coffee and tea, orange juice, croissants, homemade Dutch fruit bread, homemade jams and marmalade, hard- and soft-boiled eggs; and chocolate Easter eggs. Though we had already eaten a breakfast, we heartily enjoyed this mid-morning feast. Bit by bit, we shared our story of travel with those nearby, and soon the whole table had heard about our traveling adventures. It was lovely to converse in English and to share a good meal with new friends.

                As the 10 o’clock service approached, folks started to clean up, so we did too. We drove home, changed into less dressy clothes, and then zipped off to the town of St. Gery. There we stopped at the small outdoor market and picked up some fresh produce and a chunk of cheese. While there, we tried to figure out the “auto derby” that this town was hosting. We saw about a hundred small cars, mostly Peugeot and Renault, decorated with racing strips and sponsor logos. There were several adults in special racing uniforms (shiny, synthetic, padded suits), and a couple of check-stations where clipboard-toting men talked with the drivers. As we drove on, we found dozens of campsites with some tents and RVs, and there were more adults and more race-cars. Clearly there would be some racing somewhere, sometime, but we did not determine when or where.

                About ten minutes farther on, we found a sign pointed up a pedestrian road to “Grotte du Pech Merle” (Pesh Merle Cave) in 900 meters. So we parked the car, packed lunch into backpacks, and headed up the road. The road turned into a path, which soon became steep and rocky. We had not bargained on a hike, but, being good sports, we climbed onward and hoped we would still be able to get tickets for the cave on this Easter Sunday. (We found out last night that we should have made reservations a week ago, because the cave officials cap admission at 700 each day.) Along the way, we enjoyed the beautiful green woodland, the wildflowers, and the butterflies. One butterfly caught our attention with its fluorescent yellow and orange wings. Pam remarked that it looked like a flying pansy; Lindsey said it looked like a Popsicle. We had worked up quite a sweat when we finally found the cave admission center, museum, bookstore, restrooms, café, and PARKING LOT. Aaargh! We could have driven up!

                We had half an hour before the museum closed for lunch, so we explored it. Part of the museum was an old twenty-minute film about the cave with English subtitles. Hooray for subtitles! Lindsey had chosen this cave for us because it had three different types of attractions: prehistoric cave art; archaeological artifacts (footprints in hardened clay, prehistoric tools, pottery shards); and natural cave features (stalagmites, stalactites, columns, popcorn, bacon, pearls). The movie gave us some background information on all these features, so that when we saw them later we were better able to understand and appreciate them. The museum closed at 12:45, so we had time to eat lunch and wait for the ticket office to open. We purchased our tickets at 1:30 and started our cave tour at 2:00. Our tour guide, a serious-looking middle-aged man, led us into a side room for an introduction. He spoke clearly and at length … in French. I could pick out about one word in twenty that I understood. That was hard work, and it taxed my energy and attention span to listen so hard for so little reward. As we entered the cave, an attendant handed out folders to share, with notes in English. That helped us and gave us some hints about what our guide was saying at each of the fourteen stops. Most of the cave formations were familiar to us; the cave art was not, so we paid special attention to these. There was quite a variety of cave art, which made sense when we learned that they were created between 25,000 and 15,000 years BP (before present). There were carvings, etchings, brush paintings, finger paintings, and paint blown onto the surface. Subjects included animals, people, dots, and designs. Most of the paintings were scaled to life-size or smaller. Lindsey’s favorite part was Elan, the little five-year-old curly-haired dark-skinned French girl that adopted her, held her hand, and clung to her throughout the last half of our tour.

                Near the end of our tour, we saw some other cave attractions. There were some bear lairs, some bones (leftovers from bear meals), and some oak tree roots. One of these roots extended from floor to ceiling, about 15 feet, then went through several feet of rock before emerging as an oak tree above-ground. That is one tough tree!

                After hiking back down, we took a different route back to our gite, seeing even more gorgeous French countryside. Once home, we had some time to read and relax. For dinner, we enjoyed sautéed sausage, apples and onions on pasta. Ben made us a mixed green salad, and, for dessert, we began our Easter chocolate treats. After cleaning up, Lindsey and I did some Internet research for our upcoming time in Paris. The others spent some time cleaning up the gite, so we would not be charged a 50€ cleaning fee. (It is not easy to clean rock floors!)

                We ended the day reading together as a family from the end of Matthew 28. We took turns reading about that first Easter Sunday: how the angel rolled back the stone from the empty tomb and told the surprised women to pass on the good news; how Jesus himself greeted them and received their worship; how the chief priests and elders conspired to bribe the guards and spread lies about the “stolen body”; and how Jesus commanded and commissioned his disciples to preach, baptize, and teach. They did, and now we too celebrate the reality that Jesus is alive.