We all saw the horrifying news of the fire at Notre Dame yesterday. It was unspeakably sad.
It was also, as others have also noted, perhaps the most powerful metaphor imaginable for the death of Christian Europe. (Can you think of a more iconic symbol of high Western civilization anywhere on the Continent? I can’t.)
For some of us, though, the shock seems to have been softened by our long awareness of the West’s mortal disease — so, rather than it being a thunderbolt from nowhere, it felt more like hearing that a pancreatic-cancer patient has taken a turn for the worse.
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I was in Paris for the first time last year, for 3 days.
My wife and I spent an hour in Notre Dame and then moved on- there were other sights to be seen.
I would have stayed longer but my wife is not as fond of churches as I am. Another time, I thought.
Alas!
I suspect I will be too old by the time it is rebuilt (5 years, indeed!); or that it will be replaced by a secular building in the shape of a medieval cathedral.
It could be worse, of course: if a Second Vatican Council fanatic was allowed to redesign Notre Dame, it would have all the charm and inspiration of a multi-story car park.