The inferno in Paris looked worse than was feared by the thousands of onlookers stationed on either side of the River Seine and by the hundreds of millions watching live-streamed and time-stamped images on their screens.
The April 15 fire ravaged the great Cathedral of Notre-Dame, the heart of the City of Lights, where we romanticize French culture in a blend of love, sex, food, faith and art. Tears were shed and prayers were said as Parisians watched Our Lady burn and mourned the loss.
But as church and government officials assess the extent of the destruction, the 850-year-old church appears to have another 850 years ahead of it, barring any unforeseen damage the intense heat may have done to undermine the massive structure’s stone construction.
The attic “forest,” which fueled the fire, is, relatively speaking, easily replaceable. With modern technological advances in building materials, the reconstruction debate won’t be about the cost – more than $1 billion raised so far and counting – but what material to use in the rebuilding.
Purists will want to replace the attic forest with wood, but the oak that burned came from primeval forests that no longer exist. Will they agree to sprinklers, firewalls and electric wiring for smoke detectors, of which the cathedral had none to preserve its historic nature?
The French government owns Notre-Dame, but permits the Catholic Church to preside and worship there in perpetuity. How politically skillful church and state leaders are in negotiating and executing the rebuilding will determine how long the effort takes, hopefully not the nearly two centuries it took to build the cathedral.
While the world took a moment to lament the French Gothic structure’s loss, it’s interesting to ask what we hold dear in a medieval building that comparably few people in the world will ever visit. It’s the loss of familiarity, perhaps, of the comforting permanence such an iconic structure has in our subconscious. Notre-Dame has withstood wars, plagues as well as social, political and religious upheavals, not to mention degradations other than fire.
Historically (and why lack of wiring and sprinklers is understandable but no longer practical), the cathedral is a connection to the past. Touching its stone walls and floors, peering up at its soaring stone vaulted ceilings, and marveling at its massive rose windows of stained glass assure us of the past and reassure us of the future.
Yet, in 2019, when scientists have warned the dangers of climate change are closing in unless we address the issue immediately, the future is uncertain. This is especially so for the children of the world who want the same chance to become productive adults as their parents, grandparents and great grandparents.
If a burning church built nine centuries ago can immediately move humanity to collectively help preserve it, then can we also move with the same urgency to address the man-made pollution that is threatening the existence of the cathedral known as earth?
We owe it to our children.
