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By Nelson Ribeiro Fragelli; ANF Parisian Correspondent

 

Notre Dame Cathedral at nightIn a distant time, I would go regularly to the Sunday Mass in Notre-Dame de Paris with a group of friends from the French TFP. An old canon of the cathedral celebrated the Mass according to the traditional Ordo, which Saint Pius V had established during the Council of Trent as a form to combat Protestant secularism.

 

Ambience of Grandeur and Mystery

During the winter, the closed cathedral, still wrapped in the last shadows of dawn, seemed to rest. It was so imposing and majestic that we preferred to keep silent while standing outside waiting for the doors to open. Punctually at eight o’clock, inside the sanctuary, old knockers and locks creaked and the great portal shuddered as a small passageway opened to its lower part.

Upon entering, our first pleasant impression was one of being greeted by a sort of “cathedral breath.” It was the breath of centuries, mixing the smell of incense, the dampness of the stones, the fragrance of dried flowers and enigmatic emanations of immemorial ages. Smells of continuity lingered in a powerful tradition, characteristic of centuries-old buildings.

Still in obscurity, the cathedral presented us with vastness and silence. A well-ordered forest of columns, beams, and ribs where nothing moved. In the immensity of the temple immersed in dense silence, invisible presences imposed themselves on one’s senses like angels who inhabit sacred spaces. The breadth of the naves and the height of the Gothic arches widened in our astonished eyes as they peered at the high arches from top to bottom. The sacrality of those blessed places attracted us, slowing our way to the far-off altar where our venerable canon would celebrate. Grandeur and mystery enveloped our senses, creating a fleeting instant in which eternity made itself felt.

Please Restore Notre-Dame EXACTLY As It Was!

Relic of the True Cross ChapelWars and inclement weather had destroyed the stained glass windows at the entrance. They were replaced by others—monochromatic, greenish, expressionless—lacking the splendor of the original panels, the images of which recounted stories of saints in fairy-like colors. However, during the Mass I was able to contemplate minutiae of greatness: figures of the Nativity of Christ, in which faces with touching candor presented themselves as fresh from the hand of the Creator, simple physiognomic traits of accessible personalities, revealing firm and strong intentions, artistic figures proper to elevation and contemplation of the mystery. The creativity of the artists and artisans put on their features supernatural dispositions that translated the sentiments of the medieval soul. The gloom of the morning obscured details of the images but took nothing away from their beauty. One’s imagination completed what the eyes did not discern, adding traces suggested by the candid innocence of bygone ages.

By the end of the Mass, the sun was already beginning to light the stained-glass windows. First those of the apse facing the Levant, where the Light of the world, our Savior, came from. Their colors are particularly pure since they come from the Middle Ages. Inside the temple, they shed light, colors and wonders on those who behold them. But on the way out, contemplating the greenish light of monochromatic stained glass, we would think of a “submerged cathedral” resting on the bottom of an ocean, waiting for a faithful people to rescue it and bring it up. And so we would leave Notre-Dame and its maternal tenderness after the traditional Sunday Mass.

 

Humanized Physiognomies

Outside, we would take one last look at the tender grandeur of the cathedral.

Looking from afar, it seems domineering to the point that the surrounding city disappears from one’s attention, obliterated by its greatness. The façade evokes a fortress in which the towers stand out like massive turrets supported by buttresses. Those towers watch all things stirring at their feet and symbolize the eyes of God, Who sees everything. They are joined in their seriousness by the Law and the Prophets, evoking both the Old and New Testaments, represented by sculptures on the façade.

On other occasions, looking at it from afar, its stones become lighter in color and even rosy at certain times of day. Its welcoming countenance then deceives our sense of observation by making it look as small as the cathedral of a miniature village; and its façade, with a tender gaze which appears to ‘see’ everyone, seems to be looking for friends. By displaying meekness, the cathedral awakens in the children of God a desire to approach. There is nothing crushing about its majesty.

Between the two towers, the Mother of Mercy holds her Son in her arms, softening the rigor that the portentous steeples so opportunely inspire. If the inflexibility of the towers proposes an examination of conscience, next to them the central rosette frames an image of Our Lady like a smile of forgiveness given to repentance. Mary tells us that the severity of the towers is destined for the enemies of the Church, the unrepentant, and to what impenitence may exist in each of our souls. But She helps those who seek her with a contrite heart.

Please Restore Notre-Dame EXACTLY As It Was!

Two Towers of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris

Notre-Dame observes and invites us, expressing itself, as it were, with a human countenance. It gently penetrates souls, calling them to Religion. This call is like a divine breath that shakes the materialism infiltrated in souls, restoring aspects ruined by the errors of this century. Whoever visits it never forgets; it remains in one’s memory as the place of this world in which souls find refreshment. And it resurfaces in one’s mind just as the light returns to illuminate its stained glass windows after the darkness of the night. Its solace is indelibly recorded in one’s memory. Could this subtle impression be one of the gifts of Notre-Dame that attracts so many visitors?

Filial affection makes it imaginable to take the cathedral in one’s arms. In that, it resembles the central image on its façade, representing Our Lady holding her Divine Son in her arm. The countenance of the daughter of Saint Joachim and Saint Anne—Notre-Dame, Our Lady—represented here by the Temple of Jerusalem, transpires through its lines and architectural adornments.

Please Restore Notre-Dame EXACTLY As It Was!

A Fire That Illuminates

The fire had just consumed a significant part of Notre-Dame. Horrified, we saw the catastrophe that absolutely could not have occurred: voracious flames, as if from Hell, calcined that heavenly place, bringing to memory an innocent and virginal Saint Joan of Arc condemned to the bonfire. At that moment, both Joan of Arc in her atrocious agony, and the cathedral in the midst of flames conveyed an image more holy than ever. Both grew in the consideration of all men. Their beauty acquired a new splendor illuminated by the flames of sacrifice. Such is the beauty of martyrdom.

As the fire ceased, the images of the cathedral’s mercilessly burned interior cause deep pain. The ashes of the sanctuary come down upon our mourning hearts. Yet, if one day it should disappear it would leave in the minds of those who venerate it an image even more beautiful than it had during the almost nine centuries of its splendorous existence. Notre-Dame will not disappear, nor is it permissible to restore it with another physiognomy.

 

A People in Mourning

The day after the fire, I approached the cathedral, though fearful to see it in the desolation of ashes. Since it had been cordoned off, large numbers of people surrounded it as best they could, in small groups. They were mostly silent or spoke in a low voice, in the most diverse languages. Whether Catholics or not, their faces showed consternation and grief as if they had lost a beloved relative. A feeling of orphanhood hovered upon all, even those who had not explicitly taken Our Lady as their mother. Groups of young people, kneeling and contrite, prayed the Rosary.

I incidentally ran into a lady who owns the cleaners’ shop that I use. Since she had always been concerned about dressing very properly and showing off her jewelry and station in the world, I never imagined finding her there, where there was no room for trifles. I greeted her mechanically, almost without making eye-to-eye contact, but she held me back. For the first time, I noticed traits of seriousness under her thick makeup: “I could not hold back tears as I watched the live broadcast of Notre-Dame in flames,” she said. I never imagined that one day I would see tears running on so many layers of makeup.

People, and particularly young people, displayed a rare feeling these days: pain caused by an elevated reason. It was not the sorrow for losing one’s job or for one’s favorite team losing a match. Notre-Dame had suffered this tragedy on the first day of Holy Week, the ceremonies of which recall the Sacrifice of Our Lord Jesus Christ on the Cross. In one of these ceremonies, the Lamentations of Jeremias concerning the desolation of Jerusalem punished by God are recited. By mentally replacing the city of Jerusalem with Notre-Dame Cathedral, we were able to feel, there and then, “How doth the city sit solitary that was full of people! How is the mistress of the Gentiles become as a widow…The ways of Sion mourn, because there are none that come to the solemn feast” (Lam. 1:1,4).

In Jeremias, those prayerful young people and the tearful public around them would find proper terms to describe that hour of pain.


 
Please Restore Notre-Dame EXACTLY As It Was!

 

Quote of the day

DAILY QUOTE for May 25, 2020

“I will take away not the grace but the feeling of grace...

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May 25

 

“I will take away
not the grace but the feeling of grace.
Though I will seem to leave you
I will be closer to you.”

Our Lord to St. Mary Magdalene de’ Pazzi


My Mother, I will stand with you on OCTOBER 10, 2020

Saint of the day

SAINT OF THE DAY

Pope St. Gregory VII

In 1073 at the death of Alexander II, the people of Rome cri...

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Pope St. Gregory VII

Pope Gregory VII was born Hildebrand in Tuscany, Italy. Little else is known of his early life. Hailed, historically, as one of the greatest of the Church's pontiffs and one of the most remarkable men of all time, his name, Hildebrand, meant “bright flame”. Those who hated him, which were many, interpreted the name as “brand of Hell”.

Hildebrand was a Benedictine monk, for a time living in Cluny, from whence he certainly gleaned the monastery’s ideal of societal reform.

As a cleric, he became chaplain to Pope Gregory VI, and a few years later, under Leo IX was made Cardinal Deacon. A man of outstanding energy and insight, Hildebrand became a power in Rome. It is greatly due to him that the practice of electing popes through a college of cardinals was established.

In 1073 at the death of Alexander II, the people of Rome cried out for the holy genius who had helped steer the Church for twenty years, “Hildebrand for Pope! Holy Peter wants Hildebrand, the Archdeacon!” Once before the holy monk had eluded the tiara but this time a proper college of cardinals, seconding the popular cry, induced him to accept an honor duly his.

Hildebrand assumed the name Gregory VII, and threw his energy and zeal into a continued reform, especially fighting simony (the sale of ecclesiastical posts) and clerical incontinence.

He confronted Emperor Henry IV head- on about his practice of choosing men for ecclesiastical positions. On meeting with dogged resistance, the pontiff finally had recourse to excommunication which drastically curtailed the proud monarch’s power, ultimately bringing Henry on foot to the Pope at the Castle of Canossa. Because of Henry’s rebellious obstinacy, Pope Gregory saw fit to leave him out in the cold for three days before receiving and reinstating the royal penitent.

But Henry failed to make any true personal reform and alienated his princes who elected another ruler. Still, he later rallied and went as far as electing another Pope, a Clement III, calling down upon himself another sentence of excommunication. He also attacked and entered the Eternal City in 1084, which forced Pope Gregory into exile. Henry had his protégée “pope” crown him Emperor. Ultimately repelled by an army fighting for the true pope, the Emperor Henry left Rome, but complications sent Gregory VII again into exile, this time to die.

His last words before his death were a summary of how he had lived, “I have loved justice and hated iniquity, therefore I die in exile.”

Weekly Story

WEEKLY STORY

There was once a young country wife who practiced devotion t...

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Mary and the Simple Country Wife

There was once a young country wife who practiced devotion to Holy Mary, just as her mother had taught her to do. This simple young lady considered herself fortunate to have married a handsome soldier. Little did she know that her soldier-husband had made a deal with the devil, that he would sell his wife for a certain sum of money.

One crisp, autumn morning the couple went out for their customary walk. Oddly, this time the young man insisted on heading towards the forest. It was at the forest where he intended to deliver his young bride over to the devil.

On their way to the forest, the couple passed in front of a Church dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The wife, overtaken with a desire to enter the church begged her husband to allow her to pray a Hail Mary in that church.

As the young lady entered the church, Holy Mary came forth from it, taking the form of the wife and accompanied the man into the forest.

When they at last approached the devil at the forest, he said to the man, “Traitor! Why have you brought me instead of your wife, my enemy, the mother of God?”

“And you,” said Mary, addressing the devil, “how have you dared to think of injuring my servant? Go, flee to hell.”

And then, turning to the man, Mary said to him, “Amend your life, and I will aid you.”

She then disappeared and that wretched man repented, amended his life and became a husband worthy of his simple country wife.

From the Glories of Mary, by St. Alphonsus Maria de Liguori.

 

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There was once a young country wife who practiced devotion to Holy Mary, just as her mother had taught her to do. This simple young lady considered herself fortunate to have married a handsome soldier.

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