A Progressive’s Version of French Civilization by Ruth Paget
When Florence was a student at the Waldorf School in Monterey, I often took her to the outdoor labyrinth at the Community Church of Monterey in Carmel Valley to keep up her French heritage. This labyrinth is a miniature version of the labyrinth laid in the floor of Chartres Cathedral in France during the 12th century.
Florence had rolled across this labyrinth in a baby stroller when we lived in France, but had not been back to walk it there. Children in France walk church labyrinths. They slow down their lives to not miss a turn. They are too busy concentrating to smile. Sometimes they scold one another for jumping a lane.
Chartres is not the only cathedral with a labyrinth. Amiens in northern France has a black and white labyrinth still in use. The cathedral in Poitiers, France has a wall labyrinth that people point out to children and trace out the path with their fingers after mass. There used to be many more labyrinths in France, but church authorities have removed them over the centuries.
In Chartres, the labyrinth persists, I believe, because its links to pagan Greek myth were eradicated. The original center of the labyrinth had a leather cover that depicted Theseus, the dead minotaur, and Ariadne’s thread.
The first time we went to the labyrinth I planned to show Florence why Chartres Cathedral was important to understanding the history of France. Florence was looking forward to a mom adventure. “This circle is like a game. You enter here facing the mountains. Then, you follow the path to the center. When you are in the center, you rest a bit and think, and then come back here,” I said.
Florence looked at the labyrinth and said, “This looks a little hard.”
“Just concentrate on what you are doing. When you get to the center, I’ll tell you a story,” I said. Florence went off walking. When she reached the center. She stood facing me.
I began my story. “In Chartres, the center of the labyrinth had a leather cover showing the Greek hero Theseus, the minotaur he killed, and Ariadne’s thread that allowed him to get out of the labyrinth. I’ll tell you another story when you get back.”
Florence laughed and wound the labyrinth and came out to stand by me, facing the mountains.
“What’s the second story,” Florence asked.
“Well, there are two things to remember here. First, killing a minotaur is like solving a big problem. Solving a problem makes you smarter, but it also disrupts a previous pattern. Being smarter helps you solve the consequences of solving the problem, too. The result is that when you exited this labyrinth, the Greeks would have said you are transformed or changed by becoming smarter,” I said.
“And…,” Florence said, waiting for my story thread. “Second, Ariadne’s thread saved Theseus from the consequences of killing the minotaur. The church put Ariadne’s thread there to say that belief in Christ serves the same purpose. The early church used an older religion to explain the new one. ” I said.
I took out a book I had on the stained glass windows of Chartres and showed Florence the eastern rose window with Christ at the last judgment.
“This window is what you see when you leave the labyrinth at Chartres. The people who do more good than bad go up to heaven with singing angels at the right. The people who do more bad than good go down to the left with monsters who dance in fire. This image usually appears in stone over the doors of churches in France from the Middle Ages,” I said.
“How big is this window?” Florence asked.
“I’ll give you an idea,” I said and stood opposite of her with the mountains to my back. I put my right arm up and my left arm down. “The rose window with Christ at the Last Judgment looks the size of those mountains behind when you look up from the labyrinth at Chartres,” I said.
“Do you have to be perfect to go to heaven?” Florence asked.
“The last perfect human was Christ, and he was crucified. You have to do more good than bad. According to Catholicism, we are born with original sin. No one is perfect, but we can strive to do right. The Catholic Church also has a tradition of warrior saints, who protect the faith and country. This is especially true in France where Joan of Arc is said to have saved France,” I said.
“Who was Joan of Arc?” Florence asked.
“She was a shepherdess, who became a general. She felt that her civilization was in danger of disappearing and fought to protect it. Many people think all the French do is sit in cafés, drink wine, and talk philosophy all day long. This does not reflect French civilization for almost all of its history. France has been at war most of the time,” I said.
“Is that bad?” Florence asked.
“It’s not a question and good and bad really. It’s historic fact. France is beautiful and many people want what the French have worked very hard to create. They have maintained their culture for centuries by fighting to protect it,” I said.
“That’s a lot of war,” Florence said.
“It is. Let me walk through the labyrinth with you. Another thing you should know about France is that the kings and aristocrats had the nicest stuff. The farmers, called peasants in France, prayed that soldiers would not march through the fields and take all the crops. The peasants absolutely rejoiced when they could bring in food at harvest,” I said, finishing my French history lesson in Carmel Valley.
By Ruth Paget Author of Marrying France and Eating Soup with Chopsticks
