On April 15, 2019 the world lost something it can never replace. It lost Le Cathedral de Notre Dame de Paris. I could have written the name of this wonderful building, this symbol, in its Americanized “Notre Dame” annunciation, but I cannot do that. The remaining structure of this architectural achievement deserves its proper name, and its proper name, in the beautiful “Language of Love” is Le Cathedral de Notre Dame de Paris; The Cathedral of Our Lady of Paris.
I think anyone with any sense of humanity can understand that the building the world lost yesterday was far more than the bricks, the massive stones that framed its towers, the wood which supported the structure for over 800 years, the statues of the faithful, of saints, of kings, and of queens that looked out upon the common folk like you and me, the gargoyles whose presence was meant to protect it and those inside from the evil of this world, the beautiful rose window which dominated its façade and itself stood as a symbol of the beauty that life can be, and its spire that reached from the roof to, as does Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, perhaps touch the very being of God and lament to Him our failings in His name. It was more. Notre Dame was always more. It shall always be more.
Not only was Notre Dame de Paris more than these things to the French people, but it was a symbol of sorts to the whole world. It symbolized the beauty that can be achieved by humanity when we seek to honor something greater than ourselves. The cathedral was not, in all of its grandeur, the largest in Europe, it was not, in all of its beauty, the most beautiful. There are buildings from the 11th to the 13th centuries that surpass this church in Paris in these statistics. I could name a few, but not here, for this piece is dedicated the Le Cathedral de Notre Dame de Paris.
For those reading this piece who never had the opportunity to either stand in the presence of this building, or inside of it, it was small; smaller than one might imagine, given its status as a symbol of humanity’s yearning for grace. Perhaps it was the flying buttresses that projected from its exterior, maintaining the integrity of the structure with such solid delicacy that created the mirage that the interior was massive. Perhaps it is just that it was “Notre Dame.” However, as small as it may have physically been, the feeling one had when inside of it was indescribable. One was overcome by the infiniteness of the God which this building was built to honor. One was overcome by the faith of those who built this building over a span of over 100 years. Generations of people were born, lived, and died in the service of building this beautiful cathedral. Think about that for a moment; in a time and place when life expectancy was barely 50 years, if you survived childhood, multiple generations of families worked on this structure.
Notre Dame was, in many ways, the symbol of church as sanctuary. Whether you were the grotesque figure of a Quasimodo, or one with the sordid past of a Jean Valjean, all churches were a place where you could find peace, rest, and sanctuary. This tradition was capsulized by Le Cathedral de Notre Dame de Paris like no other holy building on earth. It lived as a testament to the grace and forgiveness that God gives us all, without any petition on our part.
I know that the cathedral ‘continues to be,’ that the exterior structure still stands, and that the people of this world, artisans from every corner of the globe will come, in faith and love, to rebuild and restore the building, but it will be forever changed. It will never be the same, and this is why I use the past tense when referring to it. For as long as we have Paris, we will have a Notre Dame, but now, both Paris and this beloved cathedral will forever be changed.
This building, this achievement of beauty in pursuit of grace, is a special place to the world, but why, might you ask, am I so moved to write of the loss we have suffered. I write because there are few, if any, places in this world that are special beyond words to me. Notre Dame de Paris was this place in my life. It was the most special place I will ever know, the most special place I have ever been.
It was in this building, in a small alcove away from everything and everyone else that I sat in November of 2009. I sat on this simple wooden bench that could have been 500 years old. I sat there thinking and then began to cry. Before I knew it, I was on my knees sobbing, and there, for the first time in my life, I petitioned God of my own volition. I begged Him to keep my family safe; my parents, my daughter, my wife, my friends. I told Him I could take care of myself, and that He shouldn’t worry about me, but I asked him to use His protective powers to keep them safe from the evils of this world that I knew would come their way.
In that little alcove, nestled within that symbol of the beauty humanity can achieve, I allowed myself to feel His presence for the first time. It was a presence I suppose I always knew existed, but that I had always denied. As everyone else has been, so I, too, have been on my knees before, but there, in that place, in that building I was on my knees before God for the first time in my life. Now, however, that small alcove, to which I am certain God called me so that we could talk, is gone forever. The simple bench that might have been 500 years old is gone forever, and God will never be able to call anyone over to that alcove, as He did for me, again. I am astounded to think of the numbers of people to whom he spoke and comforted in that little alcove. I am also heart-broken that none shall now follow.
Those moments were a beautiful surrender that I hope everyone will experience in their life, for it changed mine forever. There, in Le Cathedral de Notre Dame de Paris, is where I felt the unwavering love of God envelope me for the first time. This is why there is no place on earth that could ever be as special to me as that ‘smaller than you would think’ church in the heart of Paris. This is why I feel a profound sense of loss, for this cathedral, this global symbol of love, and beauty, and grace, and one of the most wonderful parts of my life, is now gone.
May God protect you all,
Niemand