Carte blanche to Mariana Mazza | Let’s love each other

With their unique pen and their own sensitivity, four artists present to us, in turn, their vision of the world around us. This week, we are giving carte blanche to Mariana Mazza.

February 25, 2022. It’s 10:45 p.m. I’m in an open-air mall Italian restaurant on the side of the road in Fort Lauderdale. It’s my last evening of vacation and I’m having dinner with friends. The warm Florida wind brushes my face and feels good. I am happy. A woman sits next to me, she’s a friend of a friend. We introduce ourselves and without warning me, she asks me if I would like to visit her church the next morning. I was surprised to answer yes. I think the alcohol had its power in that decision making.

The next day, I show up at Calvary Christian Church. When I open the door, I meet two bikers, glasses on their heads, little hairy duvet tied tight and jacket patched : Jesus Soldiers. Under my bewildered gaze, my new friend tells me that these are bikers who walk in gangs in underprivileged neighborhoods and distribute Bibles there. The soldiers of Jesus.

I am stunned by the goodness of the world. People walking through the corridors waiting for mass to begin are fragrant, all smiles, wearing their best Sunday clothes. Me who thought I had hints of the smell of paparmane and only come across people who are about to die.

Children run between adults and teenagers in love.

As we enter the room where the pastor will read verses from the Bible, a woman gives us a small plastic container that contains a host and a sip of grape juice. The body and blood of Christ. No more queuing to get it, it comes packaged, ready to eat.

I settle into my chair, surrounded by 2,000 believers, in front of a cameraman ready to film the mass. The lights go out. The choir of 40 singers arrives on stage, followed by 2 guitarists, 1 bassist, 1 drummer, 3 singers and 1 pianist. I wonder if I’m at the U2 show or in God’s house. The audio system is as well calibrated as that of the Bell Center and the show begins. Two 20-minute songs about Jesus and his coming to earth to save us. A giant screen like the one in the cinema displays the lyrics of the songs. I find myself dancing and singing loudly what I do not preach daily. People raise their arms in the air, closing their eyes, letting their tears make their way down their lit up faces.

The musicians having finished their hymn to Jesus let the pastor enter the stage who, my faith, is not at all what I expected. A young man of 30, tattooed, freshly shaved, of unique charisma and beauty, father of two children, married.

He communicates through his headset, moving around the stage with the ardor of Michel Barrette and telling anecdotes about God with the same talent as Jean-Marc Parent. The people around me drink his words like the disciples of Jesus drink his blood. He tells us passages from the Bible as friends tell me about their brush evening.

The technology in this church is so up-to-date that I feel like I’m attending a business event presenting a PowerPoint presentation on the company’s advances. Each time our pastor recites a passage from the Bible to us, using his iPad, he brings up the said passage on the big screen behind him. At no time do I feel that I am out of place. My faith is not shaken or forced. I can live the present moment in this place, a few hours from my departure, which usually would have stressed me. I take every second that passes before me to observe, smile, close my eyes. I surrender like never before. I never give up. I like control. Lucidity. When everything goes fast, at my pace. For a rare time, I take the time to be in a place totally out of my comfort to snuggle up there without expectations.

After an hour and a half, we are invited to eat our host and drink our grape juice. The little plastic noise when we lift the lid of the container resounds everywhere, synchronized, which makes us all laugh softly.

We are blessed. Confessed.

I look at my new friend and ask her if I can leave with the Bible. She said to me: “Of course. »

I know I will go back there one day. Just to stop time, when everything is going too fast and I’m dizzy.

Love eachother.

They say.