Notre Dame

What the world needs now

December 7 is Pearl Harbor Day, the remembrance of the brutal attack on the American fleet in Hawaii. It’s also Carolyn’s birthday. As of this year, we can add one more reason to set the day aside: the dedication of the newly restored Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.

Carolyn and I were married in 1969. As we sat across the table this weekend on her birthday, we had plenty to reminisce over after all these years. We finished off a great birthday meal at our favorite local breakfast joint. Afterward, Carolyn headed across town to be with her former work buddies - the YaYa Sisterhood.

That left me alone in our house for the afternoon and evening with our Golden Retriever, Brandy. First, I finished off the 391st episode of my podcast. Then, I sat down in my favorite chair in front of the big screen, knowing I could watch any darn thing I wanted. So many choices. It may sound surprising, but I was irresistibly drawn to the Grand Celebration of the completely renovated Cathedral just up the Seine River from the Eiffel Tower.

As I watched, I reflected on our travels together - Carolyn and me - the Cathedrals we’ve been blessed to visit over the years. In London, we climbed to the top of the dome at St. Paul’s and roamed the nave at Westminster Abby. We walked through the Salisbury Cathedral (built 800 years ago) astonished at the tallest spire in the nation. Just down the road is Stonehenge (which itself is an ancient Cathedral). We marveled - how did they lift those massive, shaped sarsen rocks so high overhead? Then the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. The National Cathedral in Washington D.C. The Duomo in Florence and St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. (As I strolled into the massive space in St. Peter’s, I imagined Jesus walking with me. He looked around, up and down, turned to me and said, “This is not really what I had in mind.”)

All those magnificent structures. I still can’t believe we’ve seen them all. In person.

And then Paris. And the iconic Notre Dame Cathedral.

We were in Paris well before that fire raged in 2019. The photos I took of the interior illustrate the darkness inside. The stone columns, the grave markers of kings and bishops and other notables, the stained glass, the stone floors, and the religious art all showed unmistakable signs of age. The decay, the cracks were visible. The towering columns, the grand arches, the masonry and the woodwork were discolored, almost dingy. There was interior lighting, but it did not disguise the wear.

At the time, we didn’t consider those signs of age strange. The sanctuary was magnificent. It just felt old. And it seemed to reinforce our (evangelical) notion that the great Cathedrals of Europe were all suffering neglect. They had become irrelevant to the mainstream and it showed.

But then came the accidental, catastrophic blaze of April 2019.

As the world watched, the Notre Dame Cathedral went up in flames. The images are still dramatic, forever seared in our collective memory. The massive fire engulfed the roof. The iconic wooden spire lit up like a tall, dry California pine sending flames high into the late afternoon sky. When that spire collapsed, onlookers gasped. You could see tears streaming down the cheeks of those young Parisians who otherwise would not have bothered to attend Mass much less make a remorseful visit to the confessional. When I watched on the big screen, I felt it, too. Emotion welled up from somewhere deep. It was a colossal tragedy.

Before the fire, church and community leaders knew the Cathedral was long overdue for a restoration. Everywhere you looked, you could see work just waiting to be done. Fundraising efforts fell short. No one seemed interested.

But when the world saw the flames light up that night sky, it was as though the past was going up in smoke, too. Those flying buttresses supported walls that looked ready to collapse. Inside, memories of the Coronations of Kings and Queens, public funerals, the christening of the children, and the candles lit for hurting neighbors, friends, parents, and grandparents all vanished; burned up and gone. When the French revolted against a corrupt Church armed with the philosophy of Voltaire and Diderot, the Cathedral became “The Temple of Reason.” All those collective memories, the long history of a proud nation turned to ash as the city helplessly watched. First responders battled impossible heat and destruction. Church leaders, priests, nuns, and novitiates scrambled to rescue priceless treasures.

That’s when the floodgates of cash opened wide. Gifts flowed in like a tidal wave of love. Fundraisers were stunned. The bank account swelled by the millions, in all currencies, from all over the world - especially the United States. Plans for a total restoration began in earnest.

It’s something to think about. Why did it take a catastrophic fire to awaken all of us to the abiding value of the Notre Dame Cathedral? Hmmm.

An army of workers descended on the site. Artisans, painters, carpenters, craftworkers, stonemasons, stained glass artists, paint conservators, engineers, architects and more labored there in the ruins all together for some five years. I imagine they were all pleased with the paycheck. But if you interviewed them, I do believe you would find that they were there for more than the money. Together, they revived many processes and skills that have faded in an era of automation and computer-generated architecture. It was a human endeavor with a transcendent purpose.

So when the doors were ceremoniously opened by the Archbishop of Paris with three knocks of a crook - a crook that had been carved from the fire-scorched beams of the burned-out roof - the bells rang out. The church was filled with celebrants from all over the world, all dressed for the occasion. The children’s choir filled the glistening space with sweet harmonies. Violin and cello. And that massive pipe organ. There were banners and clergy dressed in their finest vestments, cassocks, and stoles. Dignitaries found their way to their place in the front: Emmanuel Macron (President of France), William (Prince of Wales), the American President-elect, and our current First Lady.

The Pope wrote a letter. He chose not to make a personal appearance. He was concerned that his presence might well be a distraction. Instead, he congratulated the people of France - the legion of first responders, workers, and leaders who worked together to restore this unmatched House of Worship.

In part, he said -

Notre Dame will soon be visited and admired again by immense crowds of people of all conditions, origins, languages and cultures, many of them in search of the Absolute and the meaning of their lives. I know, Archbishop, that its doors will be open wide for them, and that you will commit yourself to welcome them generously and for free as brothers and sisters. May they perceive in it the Christian community’s testimony of peace that dwells in His praise, may they feel the joy of knowing and loving the Lord who has made Himself close, compassionate, and tender. Raising their eyes to these vaults, which have recovered their light, may they share their invincible hope. (Translated from French)

* * * * * * * *

Sitting in the front, beside French President Macron, sat Donald Trump. He arrived there alone without Melania or his children or his entourage. The service went on for two hours almost entirely in French. Taking his place in the front row, the president-elect appeared bored… but attentive.

The spirit of the gathering was hard to miss. It was a universal appeal to all of us no matter our birthplace, our religion, our social status, our ethnicity, our language, our skin tone, our education - all of us. We were invited to celebrate the transcendent; something larger than ourselves; a global community surrounded by the redemptive power of art, architecture, music, and the faith of our forebears over the centuries.

And here sits the world’s most recognizable man. He aspires to greatness. But the agenda he plans to implement from his first day in office includes mass deportations, imposing tariffs, enriching his friends, exacting revenge on his enemies, consolidating power, alienating our allies, propping up dictators, stoking the fires of fear and conspiracy and resentment. He has worked hard to feign allegiance to an ultra-conservative American version of Evangelicalism, but he knows little about the kind of grace and mercy and humanity and peace and commitment to excellence on open display right there in the reborn Notre Dame Cathedral.

As I watched, I uttered a prayer that the president-elect just might absorb some of all that as he sat motionless, expressionless beside Macron.

* * * * * * * *

I hope someday to return there, to Paris, along with the millions who plan to do the same this year. As I said earlier, I’m not so sure Jesus would be comfortable with all the excess. But then again, when you love someone, you do everything possible to offer your very best.

If you are an artist, a musician, a carpenter, a stonemason, a firefighter, a pastor, or priest; if you are a physician or a professor or a caregiver - don’t you offer your very best to the one you love?

And if you love God…

And if you follow Jesus…

Wouldn’t you do the same?