By SHAUN KENNEY
The Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris looks a lot worse than she actually is. The roof fire looks horrible from the air, but the 850-year-old timbers did not damage the structure as a whole.
The relics were indeed saved, as were works of art, golden crosses, the Crown of Thorns, and more. Yet amazingly enough as folks were watching the tragedy unfold, no one asked the serious question: “Who saved the Blessed Sacrament?”
Good news is that a priest at Notre Dame rushed into the burning building to save the Eucharist. The secular media certainly did not find this noteworthy, but more alarmingly was that even Catholic media did not comment on this for quite some time. Only when the false outrage over not having raised the question reached a crescendo did Catholic Twitter (for instance) breathe a falsetto sigh of relief.
Beyond the works of art and the relics, too many people are ignorant of the fact that the Catholics of France are indeed under siege. Parishes have been burnt, priests slaughtered in front of their congregations in places such as Saint-Étienne-du-Rouvray in Normandy back in 2016, and the beautiful churches built in the middle part of the nineteenth century. Two world wars and a half century of neglect have seen many parishes in France close, bereft of both parishioners and a long tradition of French devotion to the Blessed Mother.
Catholic France still survives where the French Revolution has not overwhelmed. Which is why it is a sort of slander to see some Catholics claim that Notre Dame was God’s retribution upon a faithless people. Surely Robespierre and Napoleon deserved such retribution? Surely the secular French government of the late nineteenth century deserved such retribution? Surely a nation that condones abortion and redefines marriage merits such divine punishment?
Of course, the secular left sees the burning of the Notre Dame roof as an opportunity, not a punishment. One imagines one of the so-called “wreckovations” rather than a restoration of the old Notre Dame roof, despite the fact that the interior was by and large preserved from harm — soft stuff when it comes to divine retribution.
I had always heard as a young child that the oak trees at Versailles were planted in the event that Notre Dame ever burned, the forests of France no longer having old growth trees tall enough to serve as rafters. Apparently this is a myth of sorts — but a noble one. The old oak and lead roof will more than likely best be replaced by something more modern: lightweight materials and the like. Even a glass roof would be quite brilliant, showing both the architecture and casting light upon the altar. Who knows?
Yet there was something hauntingly beautiful about the dark columns of Notre Dame and the Rose Window, with colors that cannot be replicated even if we tried. Modernists seek to improve all sorts of things that do not require improvement, despite well-worn paths of restoration that did not deviate from the original design (the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem being a prime example).
In the weeks that follow, I am certain that there will be all sorts of attempts to draw metaphors from the tragedy that struck the Cathedral of Notre Dame. We should resist these, if for no other reason than the sign from God might be nothing more than the carelessness of workers on the roof attempting to restore an 850-year-old tinderbox. Rather, we should consider that Christ Himself does not tell us that He was, or that He might be, but rather that I AM — Christ focuses on the present.
At present? There are hundreds of millions of dollars flowing toward a restoration of one of the primary shrines of Western Christendom — a clear moment that the power and glory of the Catholic Church, though put down in times of plenty, are viscerally significant to us all when they are gone.
French President Emmanuel Macron mentioned in his speech after the fire that we take for granted certain things that we expect will always be there.
“I share your pain,” he remarked, “but I share your hope.”
This line — borrowed from Victor Hugo of Les Miserables and The Hunchback of Notre Dame fame — reminds us of Hugo’s deep Catholic faith and the centrality of beautiful architecture.
Yet it is worth reminding ourselves that as a piece of architecture, Notre Dame’s loss would have been unfortunate but not tragic for this reason alone. Not because of her relics or art or windows or history, but because Notre Dame itself is a tabernacle no more or less invaluable than our own parish. Within her walls exists the greatest gift ever offered to humanity: Jesus Christ Himself, truly present in the Eucharist.
When Macron says that France will rebuild bigger and better than before, he misses the point. When he says that Notre Dame will be more beautiful than before, he again misses the point. When St. Francis Assisi found the Church of St. Damiano in ruins, he heard the voice tell him, “Francis, rebuild my church which has fallen into great disrepair.”
St. Francis — much like Macron and the world — set about physically rebuilding a church. God was asking for something much more. It is no small wonder that Notre Dame de Paris — started in 1160 and completed by 1260 — took longer to construct than the life of St. Francis Assisi, who lived between 1182 and 1226. In his short time here, St. Francis found a Catholicism corrupted to the core and set a holy fire that ignited a faith, thus truly rebuilding the Church.
The Cathedral of Notre Dame took far longer, and though beautiful, she is nothing but a monument to the love that Catholic France bore for the Blessed Mother — the first Tabernacle.
Macron can rebuild his monuments. We should take a moment to consider whether the Catholic faithful today would have the courage to preserve our tabernacles around the world: in Africa, in Asia, in Kentucky, in the young mothers who bear the imago Dei in their wombs, in those who trouble us for holiness’ sake.
With that perspective in mind, may Our Lady of Paris rise again, not as dead stones but as living stones.
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My friend continues to remain stable in his fight against alcoholism. Still no willingness to seek help (mostly because he knows he is struggling with PTSD but cannot receive the diagnosis from the Veterans Administration), no willingness to seek rehab (because he thinks he will be shuffled around, thus contributing to a sense of worthlessness), and still no desire to see a priest (even though he had it a few weeks ago and broke down in tears…only to be told by some local priests to make an appointment).
May 15 is a rather large day for him, though, as he is staring down a felony DUI charge. Thus far, there has been no “jailhouse” conversion in an effort to avoid the hangman, but likewise there is a certain sense that he feels he is beyond help — or that the help he needs just isn’t going to be extended because of bureaucracy, both on the VA side and on the Catholic side.
Either way, please continue praying for my friend, who is at his core a good man who is to some degree personally lost and in need of help.
St. Louis de Montfort, pray for us!
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First Teachers encourages readers to submit their thoughts, views, opinions, and insights to the author directly, either via e-mail or by mail. Please send any correspondence to Shaun Kenney c/o First Teachers, 5289 Venable Road, Kents Store, VA 23084 or by e-mail to svk2cr@virginia.edu.
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