Notre Dame

Because I'm tasked with preparing our parish's liturgies, especially during the annual Triduum of Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil, I've been more than a little snowed under lately. With lots of liturgy guides to prepare and a rehearsal to plan, there's much to do and little time to do it. I must also practice the Exsultet which I will chant at the start of our Easter Vigil Mass this Saturday evening. And in the midst of it all, I had to meet with my tax guy. I haven't received a refund in years, and have always owed the U.S. Treasury more than a few dollars. I believed it was better that I, rather than the government, be able to use what little money I had. But thanks to the recent tax cut, this year I will actually see a modest refund  What a pleasant surprise. My thanks to the president.

And so today, after completing most of these liturgical preparations, I had intended to post a few comments on current issues facing our nation. But then this afternoon Dear Diane told me of the fire that apparently is destroying Paris' Notre Dame Cathedral. Sitting here in my comfortable easy chair, I am filled with sorrow as I watch the flames consume virtually all of this magnificent structure that has graced God's earth for almost a millennium. 

The Cathedral of Notre Dame Ablaze

Let me share with you a personal irony of sorts. On the table next to my easy chair sits a stack of about a half-dozen books I am currently reading. I suspect Diane has always considered this unusual. My guess is she would prefer I read only one at a time thus eliminating this small pile of books that disturbs her sense of order and neatness. As for me, I find my reading of multiple books comforting, allowing me to adjust my reading to my state of mind. Sometimes I need good fiction, sometimes a little theology, and sometimes a dose of history, whatever... 

Anyway, among these few books on the end table is a delightful history written (and autographed) by Robert Gordon Anderson, and first published in 1944, the year of my birth. The book's title? The Biography of a Cathedral and, yes, it describes the construction of Notre Dame this iconic Gothic church, but more than that, it offers a wonderful history of Paris from the days of Julius Caesar to Saint Louis. I have already read 90% of the book, and tonight will turn sadly to those final pages.

I visited the cathedral twice, once in the summer of 1965, 54 years ago when I was a Naval Academy midshipman, and again 20 years later on a business trip in 1985. On this latter trip I took many photographs inside and outside the church -- all Kodachrome slides -- but the Kodak processor somehow managed to destroy many of the photos, leaving me with only a few dozen slides from the many rolls of film I had taken. But at least I have these few, even though most of them were also badly processed. In reparation, I thought Kodak should finance a return trip to Paris, but no, they decided an apology and five or six new rolls of film were sufficient. 

One of my few photos of Notre Dame (1985)

Like many of Europe's great cathedrals, Notre Dame is filled with magnificent works of art. On that first visit in July 1965, my 20-year-old predecessor was touched most deeply by a beautiful Medieval sculpture in wood. It depicts St. Thomas, the doubter, as he places his hand in the wound in the side of the risen Jesus. Gazing at the sculpture those many years ago, I could hear Thomas' words calling to us and echoing through the ages: "My Lord and my God." 

Thomas and the risen Jesus

The memory of this sculpture hit me today as I realized it had likely been destroyed. This was followed by the thought that Thomas might actually foreshadow today's Western Europe, a collection of nations that has largely rejected its Christian roots and lost its faith in a cloud of self-absorbed, fact-seeking, materialistic doubt. 

Perhaps by allowing the destruction of her cathedral, our Blessed Mother is giving Europe, and all of us, a not too subtle wake-up call that will lead many doubters back to the faith. Moment ago, I watched thousands of secular Parisians standing in the streets, tears flowing down their cheeks, as they witnessed the cathedral's destruction. I could only hope and pray that they would come to realize that the true cause of those tears is not the burning of a building, but the lost faith the destruction of that cathedral represents. How did St. Paul put it?

"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose" [Rom 8:28].

All Hail Britannia

Tuesday, 15 October.

Today was a definite change of pace. It evolved into a day when little went as planned, but that didn't really matter. We had hoped to do much more, but circumstances forced us to limit our activities. The weather, though, was absolutely marvelous -- the kind of brisk, sunny, autumn day that puts smiles on English faces.

We decided to take advantage of the weather and drive to Portsmouth, less than an hour away. The traffic was horrendous and we found it a challenge to follow the GPS through the inner city with its roundabouts and strange signage. We finally just pulled into the nearest car park. Unfortunately it wasn't the usual "park and display" kind of parking lot, and demanded a cellular call and credit card. Once I had negotiated this obstacle, I discovered I was limited to one-hour of parking at a cost of £3.50 -- not a good deal. We also discovered we were a good two miles from the historic dockyard where we wanted to be. So we asked directions, left the lot a few pounds poorer, and found another lot -- this one a more familiar park and display lot -- down near the waterfront. 

And then we walked...and walked...and walked. On our way we came upon the Portsmouth Cathedral (Anglican) and thought we'd stop in and have a look. We were met by a lovely grandmotherly woman (Meg) who spent a good half-hour with just the two of us describing the cathedral's architectural evolution and telling many wonderful stories of kings and bishops and other famous and infamous folks who played a role in the cathedral's 800-year history. She was truly wonderful, and once she learned I was a Catholic permanent deacon, kindly put a Catholic spin on many of her stories. We had hoped to visit the Catholic Cathedral as well, a church I am told is quite beautiful, but it was not within walking distance. We never got there.

I've included below three photos of the Anglican cathedral, from the front, the back, and an interior view...

And so we continued our long stroll to the historic district. Since by now it was well past lunch time, we decided to stop at a local pub. We finally chose a place in the middle of the tourist area, but what the heck; we are, after all, tourists. The meal was actually quite good. I ate another in a long line of  fish and chips lunches, while Diane had a bacon, brie and cranberry sandwich. Of course I also enjoyed a pint of their best ale. For dessert I tried what is called Eton Mess, a thick cream, meringue, and strawberry concoction that I could eat every day for the rest of my life. All in all, a very satisfying meal. Here's a photo of the pub, The Old Customs House.

Walking through the historic district of Portsmouth, I couldn't help but think of Austen's novel, Mansfield Park, and her descriptions of the city as it was c. 1800 when Fanny Price and her family lived down near the docks. Of course much of the city was destroyed in the German bombing attacks during World War Two, but one still sees traces of its Georgian and Victorian past in many of the buildings.

After lunch, we made our way to the Portsmouth Historic Dockyard complex, home of the Royal Navy Museum, and bought tickets to go aboard HMS Victory, Lord Nelson's flagship and the ship on which he lost his life during the crucial battle of Trafalgar in 1805. The victory at Trafalgar was historic in many ways, not the least being it put an end to Napoleon's plans to invade England. With much of his Navy destroyed and the remainder blockaded in port, Napoleon would be confined to the continent, giving the Royal Navy undisputed control of the seas. Already a hero, Nelson, by his victory at Trafalgar and his noble death in battle, quickly became an English superhero. Statues of him abound, with the most famous located in London's Trafalgar Square. Here's Nelson all bronzed up in Portsmouth...

The ship is a remarkable vessel, a true warship, very well preserved, and, like the USS Constitution in Boston, Victory is still a commissioned vessel. Indeed, she is the oldest commissioned vessel in the world, but because Victory sits in a permanent dry dock, Constitution can claim to be the oldest commissioned vessel still afloat. Unfortunately for Dear Diane and me today, Victory is presently undergoing some major restorative work and the upper masts have been removed. This, of course, makes the ship look far less majestic than she truly is. 

I've included three photos of Victory below: one of the ship taken from the pier (note the absence of upper masts); a second of Admiral Nelson's cabin (very posh digs); and a third of one of the ship's guns. At Trafalgar she carried 104 guns...that's a lot.

We enjoyed our tour of Victory and afterwards retraced our many steps back to the car, pretty much exhausted and ready to return to our little cottage home in Chawton.

(One interesting aside: Our rental car, an Audi A5 Diesel, is quite large and roomy. It also gets remarkably good mileage. On the motorways, traveling at 70 mph, we get between 43 and 47 miles per gallon. I find this amazing. I'm also very pleased because the cost of fuel over here is very high. This morning, for example, it cost me £67.51 to fill my tank with diesel fuel.)

We had hoped to accomplish more today, but actually it turned out quite well, and so I have no complaints. Now I will sit back and relax with a good book.

One final note: England just defeated Poland, 2 - 0,  sending them to the World Cup Finals in Brazil next year. The Brits are beside themselves. My congrats...

God's peace...