"Mais non! C'est Jean Phillipe Mercier!"

I'm trying to find my way around the Catholic University because I have my first class in Genesis/Exodus. I find the staircase marked "i", which is where the room is located. An old woman was entering the staircase and asked me if this was the was where the class was. I said, "yes, are you the professor?" (in French of course) and she turned to me and said, "But no! The professor is Jean-Phillipe Mercier!" She made sure she really pronounced this guys name. It's like I didn't know who Sarkozy was or something... I took two steps back. Apparently I offended her by not knowing who this guy was.

On my way up to the classroom, I tried to think of who this guy was... some suave-looking Theologian who dresses himself in the finest French clothing and can recite Baudelaire without flinching. I walked into the room, which was about the size of an Auditorium, and it was almost full already and the class didn't start for another ten minutes. They were also notably very, very old. However, I just tried to find one of the last available seats so I didn't have to stand.

Finally, the doors opened. I waited for a red carpet, but it never came. In trotted a short man, who I couldn't really see over the heads of the sea of people in front of me. He crossed behind the desk, and I could barely see what looked like a camel's hump going up and down. Finally, he stood onto the podium, revealing his true form. Jean Phillipe Mercier was a 70-year-old version of Danny Deveto with liver spots and below his nasty french comb-over rested coke-bottle sized classes that enlarged his eyes and made him look like a frog. I saw everyone in the class sit up. This was their idol. This was their McJagger.

Froggie hands out the course syllabus and we go over it briefly before he jumps directly into the course. He starts directly with Genesis, and the first thing I notice is how animated he is. He pauses at the end of every sentence like a punchline. And surely enough--his audience laughs.

When speaking about the Garden of Eden, he became a little bit vulgar. "So, God lets Adam hang out in his junk yard. 'Yeah, man, you can mess with anything you'd like, just watch out for the electric fence.' Adam says okay but one day, he has a little too much pressed cider and Adam goes and pisses on the electric fence. What an asshole!" Everyone in the class roars at this. The nuns are looking up doughy-eyed, as if they're hair hoppers from the fifties staring at the Fonz , and the priests and seminarians seem to be taking notes (on how to be cool).

When he turns to write Hebrew on the board, I swear I saw one of the nuns throw her delicates to the front of the room. This man was clearly a fan-favorite amongst the clergy of Lyon. His intelligence and wit made everyone melt around him. I bet there wasn't one woman in that room who wouldn't have given up her vows for seven minutes in Jean Phillipe Mercier's heaven, if you know what I mean...

We begin with the genealogy, you know... Abraham and Sarah and all their children and their children's children. I'm reminded why I've put off my Genesis studies until now. Jean Phillipe Mercier, however, is making huge jokes about how many years pass from generation:

"That means when Sarah finally has a kid, she's about 700 years old. That must have been some very, very nasty sex. I don't imagine that their neighbors enjoyed it either! Imagine the smells emanating from that apartment! Merde!"

The class moves along at the same pace until the end. We're all quite exhausted by this guys energy and he has worked up a sweat not unlike the artists Meatloaf. And when the class finally finishes, I pack up my books to go talk to the professor (because I'm a foreign student, and I want to introduce myself to him so that he'll have sympathy on my situation). But, I'm halted by a line of people (apparently waiting for an autograph after that performance).

I didn't have time for this. It's time for "The Bible and Violence" class. This conversation will have to wait 'til next time.

And until next time, you'll have to enjoy that brilliantly crafted story of Jean Phillipe Mercier.

The End