My heart dropped when I saw the first images of the world famous Notre Dame de Paris on fire. It was unbelievable and, yet, the images on the computer screen were stark. Flames were coming out of the roof. The tall spire was ablaze and cameras soon caught the spire in its free fall to earth. My mind went back to a September day in 2001 when I first heard and then saw the World Trade Twin Towers also on fire. But even those images did not move me the same way as watching arguably the most famous Catholic Cathedral in the world being destroyed. Words are not sufficient to describe what we should feel and think.
I have been to Paris a few times and every time I have gone there, I visited Notre Dame. Situated in the island in the Seine River, the Church occupied the center on the glorious city, which is Paris. If you were to see Notre Dame, you would understand French Gothic architecture. The architecture is meant to convey the majesty and grandeur of the Divinity Itself. To walk into the cathedral was to walk into an experience of transcendence. Theologically, I may want to affirm that God is as present in the world as I am to myself. In effect God is everywhere and in everything. I can affirm this to be part of my theology.
But to experience Notre Dame was to be taken out of ourselves. Our spirit did not center within, but the cathedral demanded that our spirit soar. We were taken out of ourselves. The cathedral experience literally demanded a response. I think even for an atheist, it had to be breathtaking. The building may not be proof of God’s existence, but it certainly confirmed my faith that God does exist. To walk into that church made me feel like I knew God and things about God that I cannot claim most of the time I feel the same certainty.
Work on the cathedral began in 1163. It is impossible to imagine what workers early on that ecclesiastical project must have thought. Surely, they could look at the plans and conclude they would be dead before the building was finished. I wonder if most of those workers saw it as merely a job? Or did they think they were working on a masterpiece that would command annually nearly twelve million visitors? It was completed in 1260. Again I wonder, at what point did someone look up and declare the project finished?
Still early in the experience, I can wonder whether I and so many others are fascinated by the story of the cathedral’s fire simply because it is a fiery wreck? Is it like slowing down to look at the car wreck on the other side of the road? Perhaps it is like watching a tornado or hurricane destroy some other place. Like most things in the news, it will almost immediately be replaced by the next big piece of news. If we don’t live in Paris, it is going to be difficult to continue to be aware of the deeply sad demise of the cathedral.
I realize that if they decide to rebuild and restore the cathedral, I will be dead before it is finished. Will it simply become a memory and maybe prompt a question which asks if I know what I was doing when I heard Notre Dame Cathedral was on fire? Since I am also a Quaker, the burning of the cathedral raises other kinds of questions. Quakers don’t believe any particular place is more holy than another place. After all, we call our buildings “meetinghouses.” They simply are a place for the group to meet. It is more like convenience than holiness.
But even with that Quaker sense of place, Notre Dame was special. This is what I valued and will miss. It was special even for me as a Quaker not because I thought it was holy and other places are not. And I don’t even think it had a special kind of holiness. But it did have the capacity to evoke a sense of the holy---the numinous, as the Latins would call it.
Walking into that cathedral meant walking out of the normal, secular world. The place invited me to go to a special, sacred space within my soul. It slowed my normal pace of life so that I might seek---or be sought---by a special, sacred time. I like what the president of the US Conference of Bishops, Cardinal Daniel DiNardo said, “Noble in architecture and art, it has long been a symbol of the transcendent human spirit as well as our longing for God.” He is right, even for a Quaker. A symbol of the transcendent human spirit was engulfed in flames.
There are two obvious questions: what else can you say and what can you learn? Probably it is too early to answer either question with insight. But here is my tentative beginning answer. What else can you say? Right now we remember, lament and console. It is too early for anything else. And what can we learn? We learn again that majestic architectural edifices are always vulnerable---just like humans.
We learn again that life will go on. Even that 800-year old cathedral has experience assaults in its past. We also learn that the church had not become irrelevant. That is the worst-case scenario for buildings and people. When we become irrelevant, then no one cares anymore. It was easy to watch Notre Dame on fire and witness how many people cared and how much they cared.
God was not on fire. The Spirit has not been crippled and deformed. That same Spirit that inspired the impetus to build a cathedral is still in our midst. That Spirit will continue to inflame hearts and minds of people to work on building God’s kingdom in ways that can never be destroyed.
I have been to Paris a few times and every time I have gone there, I visited Notre Dame. Situated in the island in the Seine River, the Church occupied the center on the glorious city, which is Paris. If you were to see Notre Dame, you would understand French Gothic architecture. The architecture is meant to convey the majesty and grandeur of the Divinity Itself. To walk into the cathedral was to walk into an experience of transcendence. Theologically, I may want to affirm that God is as present in the world as I am to myself. In effect God is everywhere and in everything. I can affirm this to be part of my theology.
But to experience Notre Dame was to be taken out of ourselves. Our spirit did not center within, but the cathedral demanded that our spirit soar. We were taken out of ourselves. The cathedral experience literally demanded a response. I think even for an atheist, it had to be breathtaking. The building may not be proof of God’s existence, but it certainly confirmed my faith that God does exist. To walk into that church made me feel like I knew God and things about God that I cannot claim most of the time I feel the same certainty.
Work on the cathedral began in 1163. It is impossible to imagine what workers early on that ecclesiastical project must have thought. Surely, they could look at the plans and conclude they would be dead before the building was finished. I wonder if most of those workers saw it as merely a job? Or did they think they were working on a masterpiece that would command annually nearly twelve million visitors? It was completed in 1260. Again I wonder, at what point did someone look up and declare the project finished?
Still early in the experience, I can wonder whether I and so many others are fascinated by the story of the cathedral’s fire simply because it is a fiery wreck? Is it like slowing down to look at the car wreck on the other side of the road? Perhaps it is like watching a tornado or hurricane destroy some other place. Like most things in the news, it will almost immediately be replaced by the next big piece of news. If we don’t live in Paris, it is going to be difficult to continue to be aware of the deeply sad demise of the cathedral.
I realize that if they decide to rebuild and restore the cathedral, I will be dead before it is finished. Will it simply become a memory and maybe prompt a question which asks if I know what I was doing when I heard Notre Dame Cathedral was on fire? Since I am also a Quaker, the burning of the cathedral raises other kinds of questions. Quakers don’t believe any particular place is more holy than another place. After all, we call our buildings “meetinghouses.” They simply are a place for the group to meet. It is more like convenience than holiness.
But even with that Quaker sense of place, Notre Dame was special. This is what I valued and will miss. It was special even for me as a Quaker not because I thought it was holy and other places are not. And I don’t even think it had a special kind of holiness. But it did have the capacity to evoke a sense of the holy---the numinous, as the Latins would call it.
Walking into that cathedral meant walking out of the normal, secular world. The place invited me to go to a special, sacred space within my soul. It slowed my normal pace of life so that I might seek---or be sought---by a special, sacred time. I like what the president of the US Conference of Bishops, Cardinal Daniel DiNardo said, “Noble in architecture and art, it has long been a symbol of the transcendent human spirit as well as our longing for God.” He is right, even for a Quaker. A symbol of the transcendent human spirit was engulfed in flames.
There are two obvious questions: what else can you say and what can you learn? Probably it is too early to answer either question with insight. But here is my tentative beginning answer. What else can you say? Right now we remember, lament and console. It is too early for anything else. And what can we learn? We learn again that majestic architectural edifices are always vulnerable---just like humans.
We learn again that life will go on. Even that 800-year old cathedral has experience assaults in its past. We also learn that the church had not become irrelevant. That is the worst-case scenario for buildings and people. When we become irrelevant, then no one cares anymore. It was easy to watch Notre Dame on fire and witness how many people cared and how much they cared.
God was not on fire. The Spirit has not been crippled and deformed. That same Spirit that inspired the impetus to build a cathedral is still in our midst. That Spirit will continue to inflame hearts and minds of people to work on building God’s kingdom in ways that can never be destroyed.
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