Travelling amongst faiths

The date is 4th March 2020. One day after arriving from Paris. Long story short: the last five days were wonderful; experiencing another city and its people, with sights and smells and sounds that exhume the senses. 

Short story long: over the past 5 days, I observed a lot. I witnessed a lot. I was humbled by a lot. In Paris, the class system is extremely divisive. It’s in your face like sellers at a busy market. And yet, on street corners or Metro stations, they are praying. Whether they bring their hands together or bow towards Mecca. They pray. They have a faith. They have a presence that is with them even if they are without money or shelter or company.  

 

They pray. They have a faith. 

Whilst out at breakfast alone, I had time to contemplate all I had seen and translate what I had felt. Belief and faith are not necessarily synonymous, but it helps to have them be in harmony. One develops one’s faith based on the strength of one’s belief; one’s own morals and values. A guideline for one’s life.  

For some time, I struggled with my faith. What it meant to me and what it meant for me. Eventually, I concluded that my religious ‘path’ is not going to be the same as my peers, though we be of different faiths. It is down to our lifestyles, activities and whatever we fit in our extra-curricular. Paris, while being the city known for love, is very much a city that does not stop. However, they do stop for prayer. To gather themselves for a brief minute or two is important to them. They do not seem aware to care what anyone else thinks: if I want to pray now, I shall do so. 

On the last day before I left Paris, I took the five flights of stairs up to the Sacré-Coeur Basilica. Sitting atop a hill in Montmartre, holds a beautiful, almost panoramic view of Paris. Inside is even more spectacular. Now as much as I would like to write about how glossy the stained-glass windows were or the vastness of the mural on the ceiling, what blew my mind were the scattered hordes of people who sat in prayer. In awe. In silence. Despite those who made their rounds of the interior taking pictures, there were more bowed head than fingers to the camera.  

I pondered, What do they see that I don’t? what do they feel that I don’t?  

Am I missing something here?  The answer is no I am not, because my journey in my faith cannot match up to theirs. On the other hand, we can find a commonality of feeling, a peace in God’s house surrounded by our brothers and sisters. In prayer. In thought. In silence. 

One of the many things I came to appreciate about this city is its honesty. What some people — particularly the English and Americans — would call rude, I found quite refreshing. Parisians have no time for small talk and frankly have little patience with ephemeral matters. Perhaps because the city itself has no time or patience for ephemeral matters. What does matter is what one does with the time one has. How they utilise the patience they have (however little it be); be it meeting friends or grabbing a bite or reading Mabanckou or praying.  

All in all, do what you will with the time you have. Use it, don’t waste it. Utilise it, don’t neglect it. we only have one spiritual life people.   Bonne soirée.