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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 September 22, 2019

Dismiss all anger and look into yourself a little. Remember...

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September 22

 

Dismiss all anger and look into yourself a little.
Remember that he of whom you are speaking
is your brother, and as he is in the way of salvation,
God can make him a saint,
in spite of his present weakness.

St. Thomas of Villanova


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Saint of the day

SAINT OF THE DAY

St. Thomas of Villanova

When the emperor discovered his secretary had written the na...

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St. Thomas of Villanova

Thomas was born in Castile, Spain in 1488. His family was not wealthy, but his father’s work as a miller allowed the family to be charitable and generous towards the poor. He was sent to school at the University of Alcala at the age of sixteen, where he threw himself enthusiastically into his studies and, ten years later, became professor of philosophy.

In 1516 he joined the Augustinian Friars at Salamanca and was ordained a priest two years later. He eventually became prior in several houses of the Augustinian Order, notably Salamanca, Burgos, and Valladolid. When Don Jorge, the Archbishop of Valencia, resigned, the emperor did not offer Thomas the see because he knew the high position would be a grievous trial for the humble friar-priest. Instead, the emperor nominated a religious of the Order of St. Jerome. However, when the emperor discovered his secretary had written the name of Brother Thomas of Villanova on the letter of nomination, he took it as a sign from God and appointed Thomas bishop. The year was 1545.

Thomas immediately began to restore the spiritual and material life of the archdiocese. He was deeply committed to the poor, established care for orphans and convinced the emperor to provide funds to organize priests for service among the converted Moors who had lapsed back into their old religion for lack of a shepherd.

Renowned for his personal charity, sanctity and austerities, Thomas was eventually consecrated archbishop. While he did not attend the sessions of the Council of Trent, he was an ardent supporter of the Reformation against the Lutheran heresy.

Thomas of Villanova died in 1555 of angina at the age of sixty-seven. He was canonized by Pope Alexander VII on November 1, 1658.

Weekly Story

WEEKLY STORY

“What is that?” Asked a curious voice as America Needs F...

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The Power of a Picture

“What is that?” Asked a curious voice as America Needs Fatima custodian Jose Ferraz stepped into the hotel elevator in Altamonte Springs, Florida. “This is the Pilgrim statue of Our Lady of Fatima,” replied Mr. Ferraz, “I take Her to visit people in their homes to spread the Fatima message.” He then handed the woman, who was a maid at the hotel, America Needs Fatima’s most popular picture. “This is a picture of Her.” The woman gasped. “I know that picture! It inspired a conversion.” She then asked excitedly, “Do you have a minute to hear the story?” 

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As Mr. Ferraz listened, he learned that the woman, Maria Vegra, had a 22-year old son who had recently passed away after three weeks in the hospital due to a fatal injury received in a car accident. While in the hospital, a priest would visit him every day to administer Holy Communion. The priest consistently offered the sacrament to the neighboring patient of Maria’s son, another young man who was also in critical condition. The young man would say, “No. I don’t believe in God.” But the priest continued to offer salvation. “Let me hear your confession and give you Holy Communion and Last Rights,” the priest said, “it will save your soul and get you to heaven.” Time after time, the young man stubbornly refused.

During the weeks of hospitalization and fruitless medical treatments, Maria had taken her son a picture of Our Lady of Fatima a friend had given her from an America Needs Fatima mailing.

She knew Our Lady’s watchful gaze would give her son peace in his last days. The day after she placed Our Lady’s picture at the foot of her son’s bed, she heard the voice of his stubborn neighbor: “please,” he said, “bring the picture closer to me. I want to look at the Lady.” 

Surprised but willing, Maria placed the picture in the middle of the two suffering men. 

After three days of letting the nearby picture of Our Lady touch his heart as he gazed into Her eyes, the suffering patient relented. “Please,” he called out, “bring me the priest. I want to receive the sacraments.”

A few days later, the young man died a Catholic. With a simple picture of Our Lady of Fatima, God touched a heart and saved a soul. 

 By Catherine Ferdinand

Order your free 8x10 picture of Our Lady of Fatima

 

“What is that?” Asked a curious voice as America Needs Fatima custodian Jose Ferraz stepped into the hotel elevator in Altamonte Springs, Florida. “This is the Pilgrim statue of Our Lady of Fatima,” replied Mr. Ferraz, “I take Her to visit people in their homes to spread the Fatima message.” He then handed the woman, who was a maid at the hotel, America Needs Fatima’s most popular picture. 

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