One of the best parts of my recent trip to Paris was Notre Dame. It formed a center piece to our mini-pilgrimage. There we experienced Mass, Eucharistic adoration, vespers, and veneration of the Crown of Thorns (yes, Virginia that Crown of Thorns). It was a tremendous blessing to have experienced this magnificent Cathedral.
I cannot do justice with my meager wordsmithing skills to the beauty of Notre Dame, inside and out. Simply walking up to the front of its doors fills one with awe. I spent half an hour taking in the details – and it was not enough. Looking at it silenced my mind and filled me with wonder while taking in the symbolism and messages carved in stone – all of this before entering in. The beauty from the inside was as magnificent with the most beautiful statues, paintings, and stained glass windows. To be inside the building was to not just see but to feel the grandeur of God. The building itself spoke of the grandeur of God and the love of his people for him to have built such a magnificent place.
With all of the tremendous beauty, there was one central piece that did not quite fit. In the middle of the cross section of the Church, about where one would imagine the altar rail would have been, there was a square table-like altar with modern sculpting on it that suggested nondescript people (I have included images of the new altar and the original main altar). The contrast was jolting. I was reminded of those child tasks of identifying which of the pieces did not belong.
This out of place piece that has been dropped into the center of the magnificent cathedral spoke to me of the troubles in our Church. Here we have this tremendous patrimony provided by generations through real sacrifice and devotion. We have beauty and grandeur and history. We have clear proof of our forefather’s love of God and desire for holiness. Yet, we place something … mundane, perhaps even ugly. To the great heritage of faith, what is it that we add?
This message hit me again in the liturgies I experienced. Being in France the services were in French. I could tell what part of the mass we were in, but could not participate with the others because I do not speak French. But there were occasions were I was allowed to enter into the community. At one Mass, we chanted the Sanctus and the Agnus Dei. I knew these! I could sing with the others, together! At Eucharistic adoration we sang the O Salutaris Hostia and Tantum Ergo. Later we sang Salve Regina. At each of these times, I was able to be a part of the whole – not just as a foreigner allowed to be there and worship on my own, but to cross the divide of language and be in a very tangible way part of The Church that unites us all – not the French church or the American church, but the One Holy Catholic Church.
Over the years, I have come to see what I consider the error of our ways, and my experience at Notre Dame deepened my appreciation of this. I was born after the Second Vatican council, so I am not speaking from nostalgia. I speak as a faithful son of the Church that has experienced the fruit of the past 40 years. I long for the sacred that I taste on those occasions I come in contact with our patrimony unfiltered. It is not the Council that is problematic – I have studied and continue to study the documents, and I long for their genuine implementation. It is what has been done in the name of the “spirit” of that Council that has caused the chaos of today. It was the philosophy of rupture and radical change and destruction.
We have suppressed too much of what is sacred and introduce too much of what is mundane. We have compromised to fit in to modern times, and much of this has been a mistake. We have a rich and abundant tradition that we need to explore and learn and teach to our children. It is not too late to restore what the past generation would have us cast-off. There time is ending. Many of us hunger for the day when we are not merely treated to an occasional taste of what is possible, but can feast on the true splendor of the Church’s life giving heritage.
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