Fire and Fury

Just a few days ago, I heard that someones recent visit to Paris was not so good. "Yellow vest" protesters had overrun the city, bringing it to a virtual standstill. But still, I thought, it's Paris. It's tough to imagine the city of light losing its sparkle. 

I flipped on the television yesterday as I entered my apartment, and vaguely heard something about a fire at Notre Dame. I took note, but went about my business, assuming there was not much to see -- a small flare, maybe, and a handful of hunky French firemen. When I finally glanced over, I felt certain I was watching a movie. 

Having been to Europe more than a few times, I've become a bit blasé about cathedrals. Seen one, seen 'em all. I'm embarrassed to say I've uttered those words, or something similar. Churches, basilicas, chapels, cathedrals -- I admit I don't really know the difference. 

But there are certainly standouts, and many of them are in Paris. They are unforgettable, those marvels of the middle ages, no matter what they're called. The light sifting through the soaring stained glass windows of Sainte Chapelle; the long slow climb to the dome of Sacré Coeur, with its incomparable view; the sheer massiveness of Notre Dame, with its flying buttresses and its somewhat disarming gargoyles, seeming to mock the crowds below. 

I gasped, as did the world, at the inferno. It conjured up images of the blazing twin towers, of my double take as the first one suddenly disappeared, bright orange flames giving way to an avalanche of ash. I cringe at the comparison, knowing that those ashes, on 9/11, were a mix of concrete and wood and steel and the irreplaceable remains of thousands of humans. The only casualty yesterday, on Île de la Cité, was a thing, a thing that can be rebuilt. Sort of. 

But what of the thousands of humans, almost a millennium ago, who put this cathedral together. The sweat and toil and ingenuity without the benefit of modern science, the kind of handiwork that can never be replicated by 21st century engineering. 

I was last in Paris about two years ago, even more in awe of its beauty than I had been the time before that, or the time before that. I still gazed in awe at each monument, including Notre Dame, though I didn't bother to go in. In awe not only of its intricacies and its architectural perfection, but of the capacity of human beings to build such a thing, a larger than life tribute to their faith. As I watched the horrific dance of the bright orange flames, the plume of smoke spiraling toward the heavens, I thought there must be a lesson in all this, although I'm not sure what it is. 

Paris may have lost a bit of its sparkle yesterday, but still, the blazing cathedral leant an almost supernatural beauty to the night sky. It is heart-wrenching, the loss of such magnificence, but with a little faith, a dose of ingenuity, and, yes, a huge handful of euros, Notre Dame, and Paris, will survive.