In Search of Soul Food

St Thomas' Church, Strasbourg

My quest for a new spiritual home in Strasbourg gets off to a ropey start. On my first Sunday in town, I bump Blessed Souls’ Anglican Congregation to the top of my search list. I’ve not grown up in the orthodox tradition. However, BSAC’s website suggests they are an inclusive bunch, the congregants being drawn from various Christian professions. It’s based in the youthful University district. I’m expecting something vaguely charismatic. You know, like HTB. Hmm. Not quite. The service is as cold as the stone walls. The confusingly-American vicar alternates the liturgy between French and English. That's all good. Nevertheless, I’m not used to such regimented styles of worship with no room for spontaneity. I don’t understand this business of taking Holy Communion/the Eucharist standing in a semi-circle on the altar. And they only have real red wine; no grape juice or blackcurrent squash for us teetotallers.

As for the sermon-if I can stretch the definition so far- it’s a tepid, brief, and poorly-prepared reflection on All Saints’ Day/Halloween. At one stage he compares the ghouls associated with All Hallow’s Eve with our personal demons. Good Lord. The praise and worship is makeshift; a couple of coy young women all but giggling their way through it, one of them tentatively strumming an acoustic guitar. I’m constantly distracted by a young French-African couple making an almighty racket near the altar, setting up for their impossibly cute one-year old’s birthday celebration. They have the cheek to come in late. A red-blooded hetero female, my eyes are nonetheless constantly drawn to the woman’s remarkable cleavage. Each time she bends over to heft a drinks carton or the other, the material of her sparkling red and gold traditional garments barely stretch over her gargantuan bosom. The couple finish the commotion around the time the service is drawing to a close. All I can see is a cake and stacks of soft drinks. After all that palaver I’d expect an elaborate hot buffet and silver service.

I slip out as unobtrusively as possible. Not that anyone is rushing to speak to me anyway. I wouldn’t dare to question the sincerity of another’s faith or their preferred style of worship but BSAC is not for me.  It's not the only orthodox service I attend. St Paul's near the town centre is also brief and liturgical but a far more pleasant experience. I have passed the resplendent building countless times without venturing in. It's somewhat of a personal landmark for me.

I find it refreshing to see the service led entirely by a female minister. I am surprised, perhaps unfairly, that the congregants are accepting of this. They are much older and less diverse than the other churches I will attend. I enjoy practising pronunciation wrapping my mouth around traditional Francophone hymns. The organ accompaniment is sublime. I have no plans to join the parish of St Paul's but I appreciate the opportunity to experience a different style of worship.

Another Sunday I attend the bilingual, modest-sized but multicultural Trinity International Church of Strasbourg (TICOS). With the exception of St Paul's, I am struck on my first few church-related expeditions by how impressively diverse the congregations are. True, Strasbourg is an international city. But so is London and there’s no guarantee that any given place of worship will be as cosmopolitan as the general population. My home church are one of the few to manage it. 

Trinity is definitely more my cup of tea. Bernard, head of the welcome team, ably lives up to his ministry’s mandate by making me feel immediately at ease. Despite the vast majority of members being proficient English speakers, he humours my desire to practise French. There are UN-style personal headsets through which interpreters simultaneously translate the English sermon into French. The worship songs have a comforting familiarity. The kindly American (again) Pastor Karl preaches on Jesus' holy anger against the commercialisation of God’s temple. He relates it to modern examples of filthy lucre corrupting the church. I’m on the look-out for any unsavoury blood-red Republican political references or Trump cheerleading. Hallelujah, none are forthcoming. It’s a big tick for TICOS but still too early to make up my mind just yet.

Strasbourg.eu

The following Sunday I am on the move again. Thanks to the convoluted directions I printed out from Google Maps (I should just trust my instincts), I darken the doors of Eglise Pentecôte Internationale de Strasbourg (EPIS) a quarter of an hour late. Judging from the other stragglers, the congregation isn’t as diverse as the website would lead me to believe. On entering, my quick assumptions are proved wrong. It’s just stereotypes about certain cultures’ timekeeping have a grain of truth. Being amongst the (unintentionally) guilty, I’ll say no more.

I take my seat near the back. Just a few rows in front I spot Jeanne, the young Lyonnaise I befriended at a jazz gig a few days earlier. She’s with the friend whom she came to support that night. We catch up with each other after the service on the tram ride home.


EPIS is not just cosmopolitan. Like Trinity, it has an outward focus. Some guest missionaries show excerpts from a documentary about their initiatives in Madagascar. A few weeks later I attend a Christmas fundraising concert for projects in Eastern Europe South-East Asia and West Africa.

EPIS has a more sizeable congregation than I anticipate. It would be easy to get lost. But there’s much that appeals. The pastoral staff seem warm and approachable. It's not only ethnically diverse but inclusive in other ways. I'm heartened to see provisions made for disabled congregants and their seemingly active engagement in church life. The service is monolingual but is delivered at a reasonable pace. Any concerns that I might be out of my depth are quickly dispersed. The guest minister preaches from 1 Corinthians 13; the famous Love Chapter. He asks a soul-searching question on which I’ve only just recently been reflecting in light of my accommodation trouble; Do we love God for who He is or what we can get?

(c) Trip Advisor

Overall, a thumbs up. EPIS is added to my shortlist.

Once service is over, Sunday afternoons are spent wandering around Strasbourg town centre.As much as France prides itself on its strong secularity, they don't mess with their Sabbath. You'd be hard pressed to find all but a few determined restaurants and cafés open. It does engender a sense of calm and balance to the week. The streets are less busy. Families take a stroll together. Everyone moves at a more leisurely pace. It's ideal for exploring the City.  I'm forever making discoveries. One Sunday in late November I drift into the famed Christmas Market, by chance.  It's a sensory feast of enticing aromas, trinkets of varying attraction and bright lights. I make a mental note to come back within the month for street cart waffles and pancakes.

So far I'm more or less winning the battle against the boulangeries. Not an easy task when there's an artisan patisserie on every corner. Praise be, I have mostly managed to confine my pastry indulgence to once a week after church.