By Barry “Phil” Philliber
Cajun people represent a curious culture nestled and nurtured within our broader Southern civilization. Most observers – when reflecting on Roman Catholicism in the United States at large – tend to focus on immigrants from Italy, Ireland, Poland, and Central and South America. The Cajun story is often overlooked in this survey. The goal of this essay is to examine a case study of the Cajun people as a peculiar expression of Southern identity, as well as to build a case for the culture’s revitalization through Orthodoxy, as well as obstacles such efforts may face.
I was born in Lafayette, Louisiana and have lived my entire life in the Acadiana region. It was only when I reached young adulthood and traveled abroad that I began to realize what an exception to the rule of American – particularly Northern – life the Cajun heartland experiences. In many ways, our people are comparable with other subcultures of the Southern way of life. Cajuns are highly traditional. They are populist in their expectations of government; kind and helpful to strangers; respectful of hierarchy and authority; and committed to working together on community projects while also espousing a high degree of personal freedom. They value agrarian ideals and independent living, and will eagerly discuss hunting and fishing for hours on end. Friendlier folks are difficult to come by and our reputation for hospitality is renowned throughout the nation. However, there are notable differences between our culture and those of other Southrons.
For those unfamiliar with the Cajun story, it bears retelling – in abbreviated form – to paint the full picture of our experience over the centuries. Cajuns have a deep-seated association with the Roman Catholic church due to their French heritage. The word “Cajun” is a derivation (based on the French pronunciation) of “Acadian,” itself referring to French Catholics who settled the region of Acadia in what is today Canada and the northeastern-most United States, particularly Maine. There are theories as to the etymology of Acadia, ranging from indigenous vocabulary to the pastoral paradise connotation of the Greek Arkadia.
The French settled this region in the early 17th century, and by all accounts were on friendly terms with the natives. Trade and commerce between the two populations were civil, and inter-marriages were not uncommon. Natives were considered Acadians alongside the settlers themselves (although contentious, today Cajun denotes white, French-descended people, whereas Creole designates people of African-American and mixed ancestry living in the same region – a subject for another essay). This camaraderie would contribute to the eventual involuntary deportation of the Acadians: during the French and Indian War, the French settlers fought alongside the indigenous peoples against British colonists seeking to claim the area and its resources for themselves. Ethnic and religious tensions only exacerbated British-French relations in the wake of British victory, eventually resulting in the forceful expulsion of Acadians (remembered today as le Grand Dérangement) from the land they had settled for over a hundred years – their home. Families were separated and entire communities left behind.
The Acadians were scattered across the eastern seaboard, and some returned to their ancestral homeland in France. The majority of Cajuns in Louisiana descend from this latter population, who were transported to the then-Spanish colony to bolster the population with practicing Catholics – Spain and France being the primary Roman Catholics powers of the time. The Acadians would primarily come to settle south-central and southwestern Louisiana, and we have lived and thrived in this region ever since. Cajuns have been in Louisiana since before the American War of Independence. Cajun soldiers fought in the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, the Civil War, and every American war in memory.
The story of the Cajun people as citizens of the United States has not always been a happy one. Although a certain number of Cajuns became plantation owners and prospered, many were poor subsistence farmers, the descendants of which would continue in lower- and working-class conditions once industrialization came to the South. Outsiders to the culture have often looked down upon Cajuns. Puritanical policies were introduced in the early 20th century to purge the French language from the region – my own grandparents and great grandparents were scolded and even beaten for speaking French in the classroom. Many Cajuns at the time did not even speak English, or had merely a rudimentary grasp of the language. Eventually these policies were lifted, but the damage had been done – three out of four of my grandparents speak at least some French, but can barely read, write, or hold a conversation in the language. Cajun French has largely disappeared from public life and the younger generations.
However, French can still be seen on signs for businesses, neighborhoods, and street names. Some words and phrases are still in common usage, and French immersion programs are now offered in local schools. There exists today a nostalgia for our old ways and a movement to restore a mastery of the French language in the youth. I pray for its success. The name for the Cajun heartland, Acadiana, was coined in the mid-twentieth century out of a growing sense of pride in our identity, a pride which we endeavor to instill in ourselves in the face of adversities past and present. I am certain that other Southerners can relate.
What, then, of Orthodoxy? After all, Cajuns are a decidedly-Catholic demographic. A query of greeting commonly-heard here goes like this: “Who’s your mama? Are you Catholic?” I’ve heard this nearly verbatim in job interviews. In fact, most people in Acadiana are, by default, assumed to be Catholic by their peers. It is an unstated fact of life here. Not that Louisiana is lacking in protestant fervor – there are probably 7,000 “First Baptist” conventions in the state, including the Acadiana region. However, I believe that this expression – “Who’s your mama? Are you Catholic?” – contains an appropriately traditional, if misguided, sentiment. Cajuns, when meeting anyone for the first time, want to know a few things upfront: who you are; which family you belong to; where you are from; and what you believe.
As I hope has been demonstrated, Cajun roots are deep and firmly planted; but our youth, our leaves and potential fruit, are still thirsting for authentic experience. Our language has been all but taken from us by public policy enforced from above, our music is largely relegated to tourist restaurants rather than traditional get-togethers (called fais do-dos), and the culture overall has been reduced to shallow imagery worn by Cajun hipsters. Too great a portion of our youth fall under this category; under the spell of cosmopolitan, liberal, global-American culture, they wave the Acadiana flag while eschewing the traditional values of their ancestors. Our cultural imagery, music, and food are important, but these things do not constitute culture itself. Culture is to be lived and breathed, in the ineffable and intangible expressions of daily living. It is wrong to believe that the Cajun people are reducible to the food and music they are well-known for – as I once heard my grandfather say, “Liking Chinese food doesn’t make you Chinese.”
As an Orthodox Christian, I firmly believe that our faith contains the only legitimate means of sanctifying and fulfilling every nation’s unique character. The primary challenge in converting Cajuns to Holy Orthodoxy lies in the cultural association with Roman Catholicism, which, admittedly, runs deep. Statues of the Roman Catholic saint Francis are ubiquitous in gardens, as are bathtub Madonnas and assorted religious statuary. However, attendance rates in Catholic parishes are plummeting. I have seen it firsthand – empty rows of pews, nearly zero adherence to their rite of confession, and elderly Cajuns despairing at the loss of God in the lives of their grandchildren. As more and more young people become disillusioned with modern life and its underlying philosophy, many are put off by the scandals in the Roman Catholic church while still yearning for a genuine connection with the divine and transcendent aspects of reality. They simply have not heard of the Orthodox Church, and know not where to look.
Orthodox Christian efforts in the domain of Cajun cultural renaissance are guaranteed to be fruitful. Modern ecumenical sentiment – or the indifference to religious denomination exhibited by so many – may ironically play into our hands here. Expressions of Cajun culture are ripe for Orthodox fulfillment. Cajun music is resplendent with religious themes begging to be put into their proper, Orthodox content by aspiring musicians. Cajuns would delight in liturgical readings done, at least in part, in French. The Orthodox folk-archetype of the Babushka sees its mirror image in the Cajun Mawmaw. Cajun food is well-suited for post-liturgy get-togethers, and the local diet makes observation of the fasts almost overly simple. Folk spirituality is rich here, and the belief in the supernatural permeates Acadiana (aspects of this spirituality are influenced by Roman Catholic, Voodoo, and Indian beliefs; like anything else, this needs to be brought in under the Orthodox perspective). I believe it can be done, and that the Cajun people are a prime demographic for mass conversion. The assurance with which we must welcome Cajun converts to Orthodoxy is this: conversion to something other than Roman Catholicism is not divorcing ourselves from our Cajun roots, but rather the rightful restoration of the spirituality that our ancestors pined for.
Phil Philliber is a catechumen at Archangel Gabriel Antiochian Orthodox Church in Lafayette, Louisiana. His assorted interests include faith, the outdoors, language, and music. He can be reached at pphilliber18@gmail.com.
