Written by Clara Kernodle
“God Abroad” is a travel column by sophomore Clara Kernodle. Each week, she writes about the different ways she sees God during her HUE study abroad trip. This week, she discusses her trip to Nice, France, and what she learned there.
The gravel courtyard of Holy Trinity, a small Anglican church in Nice, France, embanks a shaded cemetery where magpies and turtledoves rustle and sing. The parish exterior is made of tan, scalloped stone reaching up into gothic spires, half-hidden by a nearby sycamore, while the interior is flanked by stained-glass windows and made cozy by dark wood pews. Holy Trinity’s appearance immediately made an impression on me when we attended during independent travel, and so I want to tell you a bit about this church and its place in Nice.
Richard, one of the churchwardens, boasted in Holy Trinity’s unique amalgamation of Christians; as one of few surviving congregations in Nice, Holy Trinity absorbed the laity of multiple Protestant churches about a century ago. Thus, though the church recites a high church Anglican liturgy, its parishioners are, as Richard said, “reformed Presbyterian, reformed Methodist, some American … and we are all different, but we love it.” Holy Trinity’s congregation is mostly elderly couples accompanied by dainty lapdogs dressed in frilled coats, plus a handful of university students and a family with two small children. Most speak in upper-class British accents, except for Elle, an American expat from L.A. who introduced us to other students; her chihuahua Simone; and Valerie, a Ukrainian student studying earth science in French (her fourth language). After the service, the congregants flooded outside to a small clearing in the graveyard, where we drank coffee, ate sandwiches and chatted about visiting Nice. Like many European cities, Nice is full of church buildings but lacks many thriving church communities. Holy Trinity, attended on Sunday by about 50 worshipers, is (according to the bulletin) a center of Christian worship for English speakers; a historic site, a quiet place for contemplation and a vibrant church community since 1862. The Christians who founded and attended Holy Trinity in the 19th century were the same Christians who built the famous Promenade des Anglais, a paved walk along the Mediterranean still in use to this day.
During our week in Nice, I noticed the city as a whole is not focused on God or the church. Christian heritage, however, finds a way to peek through. Shops in Nice still close on Sunday, if only in a distant, unconscious memory of something more holy than an extra day to make money. Bells toll from tall medieval towers as passersby clutch baguettes and children’s hands, and though the church parking lots are mostly empty on Sunday morning, small sounds make their way from parish to street — a violinist or organist practicing liturgical music, a man praying, a birdsong in the parish graveyard.
