The French really can do major ceremonial events with aplomb: they take their pomp seriously. Okay, there was that faux pas with the Last Supper nonsense at the opening of the Olympics, but that was a secular event. The tone for the re-opening of Notre Dame on Saturday 7 December was well-judged. (I don’t doubt that the Catholic hierarchy would have had to contest some elements of restraint on the political aspects; but even the imperially unhinged French President ‘Macroleon’ was on his best behaviour: see Alistair Miller’s website piece.)
It was not perfect, of course. The ‘grand awakening’ of the cathedral’s organ, which had survived intact but was badly affected by lead residues, was a little startling: the organist’s improvised response to the archbishop of Paris’ incantations sounded somewhat Satanic rather than saintly. The ugly priestly vestments for the occasion were intentionally but incongruously modern; and it was gauling – er, I mean galling – to see Macroleon and the atheistic Mayor of Paris, Anne Hidalgo traipsing up the aisle as the last people to take their seats. I suppose it could not have been otherwise; but it still jarred. And to be fair, Macroleon was meant to have delivered his speech outside the cathedral, not within it; but his gods (Jupiter in particular, I suppose), smiled on him and sent along the outer embrace of Storm Darragh to the French capital, making it necessary for him to perform his role inside, which he did with skill (again, see Alistair Miller’s piece) if not with any emotion.
However, let it be said jubilantly and gratefully: the reopening of Notre Dame in Paris after a devastating fire five years ago was a joyous and moving affair, achieved with Gallic class, style and appropriate reverence for what was, despite its huge cultural and historical significance, an essentially spiritual occasion.
But for most of the world watching, it was that cultural and historical significance that gave the ceremony real meaning. That something so hugely monumental, a mass of solid stone and impossible density, could be so threatened by the element of primordial fire was shocking; that the gracious old lady has survived and been revived is truly life-affirming. An especially poignant moment of the ceremony was, with theatrical impact, dozens of men and women from the Paris fire brigade filed in to take their seats to the applause of the audience, both within the cathedral and without (some 40,000 lined the adjoining streets to watch a screening of events taking place in Notre Dame). Who could fail to have a deep emotional response to the bravery of these firefighters who risked their lives to save an inanimate object, one that was, and thanks to their courage, remains, an historical symbol of their city and its people? Their actions kept the church’s western towers standing, thus allowing for the cathedral to be rebuilt rather than totally replaced. This astonishing commitment and preparedness to sacrifice their lives for an idea of the greater good, something that stands above the sordid squabbling and scrambling of political life, is truly humbling.
Also humbling is the dedication of some 5,000 artisans and tradesmen who worked ceaselessly on the cathedral for five years, ensuring that it opened on time: a quite remarkable feat. There was a similar mood of dedication to a greater cause among them: men and women who took immense pride in contributing to this huge project and for which it will remain their greatest professional achievement of their entire lives. Whatever their religious beliefs or none, they were united in this most magnificent of tasks.
Yes, Notre Dame has changed, and not for the better in many ways. But if people can have their knees, hips and shoulders all replaced to counter the erosions of old age and still be the same person, so can Notre Dame. When we look up to the imposing grandeur of this stunning cathedral, we are still looking up to higher things. Notre Dame’s survival is a testament to what humanity can get right.
