The baby is napping and I am sitting here just sobbing my heart out over the fire engulfing the beautiful 850-year-old cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris. As a Catholic, as a medievalist, as a lover of beauty and history, I am absolutely wrecked.
I have always wanted to visit Europe to see the cathedrals. The reality that I will never see the architectural masterpiece of Notre Dame is devastating. Watching the church collapse piece by piece as smoke billows into the air feels like a punch in the gut. And at the beginning of Holy Week, no less. I am trembling with sadness over the loss as if it were my own home that I’m watching burning down.
But I am following the tragedy from across the sea. What must it feel like to be watching the flames tear down Notre Dame on the scene? To be scrambling to contain the horrific damage? To try to save holy relics and sacred art from destruction? The fear and the chaos of safely removing the Crown of Thorns and remnants of the True Cross?
I’m reminded of a pivotal scene in Sigrid Undset’s Kristin Lavransdatter, one of my favorite books of all time. It’s set in medieval Norway and one night, a terrible lightning storm sets fire to the local church of St. Olav. The protagonist, Kristin and her family struggle to contain the flames, to save the structure. But it quickly becomes apparent that it cannot be saved. Brave souls, including Kristin’s fiance and her father, rush in to save holy objects and the priest Sira Eirik rescues the Host from the flames and relics of the church’s patron, St. Olav.
Kristin’s father, Lavrans, emerges with the Crucifix in his arms. As he watches the flames consume St. Olav’s “His arm lay across the arms of the cross, and he was leaning his head on the shoulder of Christ. It looked as if the Savior were bending his beautiful, sad face toward the man to console him.”
May our grief over Notre Dame be consoled by Our Lord as his holy gaze comforted Lavrans. May we be reminded during this week, of all weeks, of the suffering of Christ. As we watch the destruction of this centuries old sacred site of worship, may we not forget the words of Jesus that the temple will be destroyed and then rebuilt in three days. His Most Precious Body is the temple, given for us in great torment. But his Resurrection is Our Living Hope.
In Kristin Lavransdatter, all that could be salvaged was safeguarded from the flames and St. Olav’s priest and his flock went through the agony of watching the whole church collapse.
“At the edge of the churchyard, Lavrans leaned the cross against a tree, and then sank down onto the wreckage of the gate. Sira Eirik was already sitting there; he stretched out his arms toward the burning church.
‘Farewell, farewell, Olav’s church. God bless you, my Olav’s church. God bless you for every hour I have spent inside you, singing and saying the mass. Olav’s church, goodnight, goodnight.’”
God bless you, Notre Dame. God bless you for every hour you have stood pointing to the heavens while voices were raised in song and prayers and the liturgy of the Holy Mass. Notre Dame, goodnight, goodnight.
It feels like a Good Friday today. But there will be a new dawn on Easter morning even if every church on earth is engulfed in flames. The glorious Resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ is still the reality we journey nearer to this Holy Week.
As Pope St. John Paul II told us, “We are an Easter people and Hallelujah is our song.” Let us hold onto that hope in our grief. While Notre-Dame de Paris may be a charred shell of stone by morning, we know that the gates of Hell will not prevail over the Church through which God pours out his grace on his people.
Thank you for this reflection. I cannot even process the devastation at this point. I, too, have never seen this masterpiece in person, and the loss is unimaginable.
A reporter in Paris, watching the fire from her balcony commented that church bells all over Paris had begun ringing. I imagined what it must be like to be there now watching this magnificant church slowly dying as the bells toll a long mournful lament.
“I am trembling with sadness over the loss as if it were my own home that I’m watching burning down.” TBH it kinda is our home as a universal family. I wonder what happened to the Blessed Sacrament, some of the Eucharistic miracles in the past happened with church fires and as much as I’d love to see more people come to faith Notre Dame is not a price I’m happy to pay 🙁
It was saved! A priest (and chaplain to the firefighters) insisted on getting the Blessed Sacrament alongside the firefighters as they fought to preserve the structure.
Thank you for writing this, Hailey. You’ve done a beautiful job making sense of this tragedy.
I just feel sick…….but reading this does help come to some terms with what is going on. I feel like I have been socked in the stomach. I want to just bawl and I have never even been to Notre Dame. But a piece of me feels like I have lost something precious and there is now a hole in the great Christian world where Our Lady of Paris stood. I don’t want to say there is a disturbance in the force, but I felt this great overwhelming greatness when Pope Francis was elected and now it feels like a great overwhelming loss.
Thank you Haley for your beautiful and inspiring reflections on this terrible tragedy. A few days ago I was commenting to my husband that it was so miraculous that Norte Dame and St. Peter’s survived two world wars in which so much was destroyed in Europe.
And now Norte Dame is in flames! But your concluding paragraph is true and must be at the front of our hearts and souls. The timing of this fire is significant. We Catholics love our cathedrals, but we can and do worship and experience the love of God without them. Young mothers like you are a sign to me that the gates of hell will not prevail against our Church.
Thank you for writing this. I’ve cried for Notre Dame today too. I was there three years and a month ago. Suddenly, the pictures I took mean much more…
Haley, thank you for this post. This catastrophic event is a powerful reminder than nothing in this world is permanent…even an 850-year-old Church. It is a sad thought to know that I will never see that beautiful rose window or hear those bells in person, nor will my children, but perhaps we will hear them ringing in heaven!
Notre Dame, priez pour nous!
You will see it! They’ve saved it!
Thank you so much for your words. They are a soothing balm to a great wound and heartbreak like this.
Thank you so much for your poignant reflections. This expresses the sentiments of myself and many others too, no doubt, who will now never get to see the Notre Dame in all its glory. Yet, yes, we are reminded of the impermanence of all things in this world and the transcendent spiritual reality that the Notre Dame has always pointed to.
Good morning!! Thank you for the thoughtful words. I sat here yesterday afternoon watching the destruction. The words you posted from Pope John Paul helped calm my heart. Yes, we are an Easter people and I hope we will all rejoice a bit deeper and even louder on His Risen Day!!! Blessings to you and your family……….
Thanks for sharing. I was crying watching the spire fall yesterday and seeing the people singing in the street. Such an awful loss.
Your words are eloquently written, and yes, the parallels to the event of St. Olav’s Church burning in “Kristin Lavransdatter” are profound. I just finished reading that book for the first time before Lent began this year. Such a powerful story of redemption.
What a sad situation I cried when I watched the flames on Notre Dame. It will be rebuilt. Hope and prayers are what will get all through this. Easter Blessings to you and yours.
Marilyn and family
When I watched the burning flames on Notre Dame, I cried a lot. God Bless Notre Dame & all of us.
This post was almost a year ago, but with so many Catholic Dioceses shutting down for Easter Services this year due to the pandemic, including ours, I’ve had the tag line of this title in my head for days now. “Easter is still coming…”