Some may wonder why this title, why ’50’ and why white roses? The answer is simple: on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of Edith Piaf’s death, Gil Fiorini, the priest who gives thanks to the Lord with his singing voice, celebrated a mass last Thursday to pay tribute to her.
By now, one can understand the number, and as for the roses, symbols of purity and of Thérèse of Lisieux, they are also expressions of beauty, art, and genius.
The color white was chosen for the mass; Monsignor Jean Louis Gazzaniga, the vicar general, decided on this color instead of the traditional purple used at services in memory of the deceased. White was fitting, as Piaf was healed by the Saint of Lisieux when she was a child.
In his homily, Reverend Father Yves Marie Lequin, chaplain for artists, highlighted the life of this street singer who became a world-renowned star. A tiny woman, as Father Gil Florini said at the very beginning of the mass: “1m47, size 32.5 shoes!”
And yet, what a voice! Her songs were performed by Father Gil throughout the mass. Mea Culpa during the penitential rite, Les 3 cloches during meditation, variations on various songs after the homily. Mon Dieu rendez le moi mon amoureux during the offertory. Communion with Exodus and the dismissal concluded this mass with the rhythm of: Non je n’ai rien oublié.
What’s love good for? Théo Sarapo asked, “I don’t know,” Edith replied, “but life without love is worth nothing…” Everything is said in this answer. The portraits of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux and the Little Sparrow Piaf stood in the choir, and the officiants, all dressed in white, symbolized this hymn to love, the love that guided the life of this tiny woman, a giant of the stage and a voice emerging from deep within.
She lived her lyrics, did not recite them or interpret them; they were her rhythm and her life, a very brief life, fifty years after her death, Piaf is still here, raising the curtain after crossing herself, kissing her Saint Thérèse medal, she enters the stage and mesmerizes the audience.
This tribute mass was felt and experienced; it was there for each of us. Saint Pierre d’Arène seemed too narrow, with a crowd, some standing at the back of the nave. “I will make roses rain down on the earth,” said Thérèse of Lisieux. That evening, they fell on each of us.
Thierry Jan
