At last, I was able to visit Notre Dame in Paris. The line moved quickly, and once inside, it didn’t feel crowded at all, even though there were hundreds of people around. I was a bit apprehensive because I had heard it was very white and bright now, and that they’d stripped the building of its soul when they cleaned it.
But I was so stunned by how beautiful it looked that the security guard had to tell me to move because I was standing in awe holding up those behind me. I literally had not moved from the front steps!
Saint Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris, is revered for her unwavering faith and dedication to the city. Born in the 5th century, she played a crucial role in inspiring Parisians to stand strong during the invasions of Attila the Hun.
During World War II, as a precaution against bombing, the rose windows and other stained glass in Notre Dame were removed and hidden to protect them from potential destruction, and after the war, the glass was returned and reinstalled. The rose windows, one on each side of the altar date back to the 12th and 13th centuries, survived the war largely intact, and then again!
Those of you who know me know I love antiques, patina, and the weathered facades of old buildings, so I thought I might not be disappointed seeing all that patina gone—but that simply wasn’t true.
It felt as though the cathedral had come back to life. Standing tall and glorious in front of me, I was seeing it with newborn eyes—not how it had been over the centuries, but how it was now. The beautiful colors, the stone, so clean yet still holding its own richness.
Did I find it white and bright? I found it sacred, to step back in time seeing it how it was at its birth, then surviving and changing over the centuries, to this moment.
I went during vespers at 5:30 so I could hear the singing, smell the incense burning, and see the candles lit. I instantly started crying and sat for an unmeasured time in silent prayer.
“The stone used to build Notre Dame primarily comes from quarries located in the Paris region, specifically from the Saint-Denis area, just north of Paris. The limestone from these quarries is known for its durability and was widely used in Gothic architecture. The stone’s light color gives Notre Dame its bright, airy appearance, especially after the recent cleaning efforts.
Interestingly, this particular limestone is also known as “Paris stone” or “Île-de-France limestone”, and it has been used in many other iconic Parisian structures, including the Sainte-Chapelle and parts of the Louvre. This stone is rich in fossils and small marine creatures, adding a layer of natural history to the cathedral’s construction.”
Afterwards, I wandered around, admiring everything, and then took some photos — I kind of lived there for a while. It’s true. I imagine that if you go during the day when the sun shines through the rose glass windows, it would be another type of beauty. I went in the evening, so I’ll have to return during the day.
Maybe it was the bright colors, that sense of joy they seemed to bring, like the song of spring after a long winter, that made me smile. It wasn’t that the cathedral felt depressing before, not at all. But there was something different about it now—an immediate sense of happiness, a shift in energy, a welcome hug, like coming home. I liked it. The church, in a way, seemed to focus on the death of Christ to me—the need for forgiveness, the weight of sacrifice. But with all this new color, it felt more like Easter, the Resurrection, a celebration of life. And why not?
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