The Catholic Church in Malestroit is coming up with strange new ways of luring nonbelievers into the flock.
Every year, the owners of hundreds of camper vans from all over France set out on an epic odyssey to the small Breton village of Malestroit. They come not to park up on top of a cliff for a few days, staring out into the sea in the rain while listening to terrible French pop music and snacking on little sausage rolls. They do it because they are devout Catholics, and they are desperate for a priest to bless not just them—but their beloved camper vans, too.
This annual ‘Pardon of the Camper Vans’ is part of the wider Pardons Bretons, an ancestral celebration involving over 2,000 processional pilgrimages in Brittany. Romain Ruiz, a photographer who has documented the phenomenon and whose work adorns this page, says this is just an inventive modern way for the Catholic Church to lure people into its flock.
“This benediction is only seven years old, which is very important to me because I’m really interested in how ancient rituals can adapt themselves to reach new people here in our time,” says Romain. “This was the perfect example of how the pardon could take new forms to attract new people into the Church.
“It’s a new leverage of evangelism; it’s a new way to attract people to Catholicism.”
The pardon starts with Mass before the local bishop, Father Yves Carteau, spends five to ten minutes with each camper van-owning person or family. They might talk about tedious things—like where they’ve driven from—or more serious matters, like previous road collisions, or lost loved ones. The priest will then dish out a load of blessings: to the owners, their vehicles, sometimes even their dogs, to help ensure safe travels for all in the year ahead.
“In one of the pictures, which is very powerful to me, the mother is crying, and you can see she’s carrying a portrait of her son. It’s a way for them to share the sorrow,” Ruiz says.
Saint Giles—who, depending on what you believe, was either a hermit or a monk active in the Rhône region of France in the 7th century—has been the saint of Malestroit since the 1400s. And he’s been the patron saint of motorhomes ever since Father Yves Carteau decided he was in 2017, when he sought to revitalize the local Saint-Gilles festival. (France is increasingly secular, with 29 percent of the population identifying as Catholic, according to Insee.)
Small statues of Saint Giles abound, while the camper-van owners take great pride in their mobile homes. “You can see eagles, you can see the on-style design with painting. Every van has its own little story. And they [the camper-van owners] are very, very proud of it. It’s like their house. So it’s their life,” Ruiz says.
The crowd was somewhat mixed, Ruiz says. “There were not too many young people there; they were all retired. Some people are new in town, so it’s a way for them to get into the community and to be connected with other people,” Ruiz says.
Ruiz’ photo-story is part of a wider series on French culture and society, France Parallax, highlighting the country’s regional quirks, which Ruiz jokingly calls the “French Metaverse.”
