The re-opening of the Cathedral of Notre Dame this weekend reminded me of an experience I had there over a decade ago – and has stayed with me ever since. I was in Paris to give a lecture on my book about the twentieth-century martyrs. (The sequel, on the 21st-century martyrs, will be published in May for the 2025 Jubilee). I stopped into Notre Dame for evening prayer. There was just a small group of us – not even fifteen. Afterwards, the priest remarked that all the scaffolding had, finally, just been taken down. (There had been internal work being done for what must have been years.) He said, enjoy seeing the whole church again, but don’t linger too long. The guards and other workers had to lock up and get home.
I must have been the sole non-Parisian because everyone else just vanished. And, marvelously, I had Notre Dame de Paris all to myself for a few minutes. It felt like being engulfed, not so much by the beauties of the building, which are countless, to be sure. But you can mostly see those even when the church is full of tourists. What struck me, without thinking about it, was the length and breadth and height of Notre Dame, and the sheer scope of the Faith in France, with its centuries of great geniuses and saints – and also, alas, since the French Revolution, its many martyrs and apostates.
Outside the main entrance on the Parvis Notre Dame-Place John Paul II, it was the hour entre le chien et le loup. A vivid old expression about uncertainty at dusk, when you can’t distinguish “between a dog and a wolf.” (In the countryside, where the phrase probably originated, meeting a dog in the dark is okay. Meeting a wolf is not.) There’s a medallion in the pavement there marking Point Zéro, the center of Paris and of France. I think that’s still the case, though for many French and millions of tourists, the specialty boutiques and the high-end restaurants and the now-lost bohemianism of the Left Bank are what the city and the country are all about.
No longer the “Eldest Daughter of the Church,” but the Eldest Estranged Daughter.
And yet. . . .There’s no denying that much of the world is somehow relieved, even celebrating, that Notre Dame survived. The unexpected size and number of donations – a billion euros, probably a little larger than the actual costs of repair, a lot from America – attest to the fact. And the pictures of the now bright interior – secondary controversies about altar and vestment designs aside – present a stunning Catholic image, without recent rival.
There’s something more to it also, a sense as if among so many other priceless things that our world has lost, this one at least, in the end, had to be saved. And was. And more importantly, at least for some of us, points towards something.
Which is why it is unfortunate that Pope Francis decided not to attend the re-opening. He sent a message encouraging the French to reclaim their heritage. Lord knows they need it. Even French President Macron said that Notre Dame “tells us how much meaning and transcendence help us to live in this world.”
But the physical presence of the Roman pontiff would have made even clearer that this was not merely about the preservation of a UNESCO world cultural site. It could have been a moment for evangelization – of Europe! – giving even greater prominence to the reason why the many builders and artists originally, over more than a century, erected the church: to glorify God, His Son, and His Son’s Mother – Notre Dame – “Our Lady.”
Religious buildings, of course, have intrinsic value in their way. Which is why they are frequently attacked. In France, as I learned researching my new book, authorities say that they stop an attack on a religious site every other week, but that they still lose two religious buildings a month to arson. This past March, French police arrested an Egyptian man and five collaborators, all jihadists, who were planning an attack on structures around Notre Dame, and the church itself, even as it was being restored. Security against terrorism threats was high this weekend.
America is not much better. Few noticed, but the American bishops put out a report this year that U.S. Catholic churches have experienced 360 incidents of arson, desecration, or vandalism in forty-four states since 2020. There are similar figures on almost every continent.
Which is no surprise because many people today regard the Church as something of a wolf. And the failure to address the abuse crisis – when names like Rupnick, Zanchetta, Príncipi, some of the most notorious offenders, are still getting protection in Rome – has contributed to that image. But the far greater failure has been to let the Church be attacked for alleged sins towards gays, women, and other faiths, as if the Church’s past consisted of nothing but abuses. Francis recently called for a re-writing of Church history that would likely foster that false narrative.
Who would have anticipated, for instance, that within the same week we would hear that, on the one hand, an official LGBT event has been authorized for next year’s Jubilee, while on the other hand, Rome is considering banning the Latin Mass at the end of the pilgrimage that goes from Notre Dame de Paris to the Chartres Cathedral. Last year, 20,000 people made that pilgrimage on foot. What other language would be common to people from all over the world and would link them to all the believers who have lived in the eight centuries since those two churches were built?
And who today will make the case that the Church is not a wolf, but more like “man’s best friend,” a faithful, beloved, affectionate presence, fierce (when She needs to be on behalf of those threatened), and a voice that calls us beyond our personal and political folly to the only source of real happiness?
_____
*Images are screenshots from the cathedral’s reopening [Retrouvons Notre-Dame de Paris – 7 décembre via YouTube]
__________
You may also enjoy:
Fr. Gerald E. Murray The Worsening Crisis
David G Bonagura, Jr. Why Catholicism is the True Religion
