At the start of the week, all of France was eagerly looking forward to Saturday’s reopening of Notre Dame after the cathedral’s 2019 fire. Then, on Wednesday the 27th prime minister of the Fifth Republic (1958), Michel Barnier, lost a vote of non-confidence. The seating plan for the ceremony will have to be redrawn, as happens occasionally with the French constitution too.
What endures meets what passes away. Notre Dame endures. France’s civil rulers — kings, emperors, presidents, prime ministers, tyrants, revolutionaries, democrats — pass away.
King Louis XIV is alleged to have proclaimed: L’etat, c’est moi. He was wrong about that.
Those who know the history of France know that the truth is better expressed, L’eglise, c’est la France.
France is essentially Catholic, if not observantly so. She is sometimes devout — St. John Paul II called her the “eldest daughter of the Church.” France is sometimes dissolute — John Paul asked if she had been “faithful to the promises of her baptism.” The rhetorical question had an obvious answer: Non.
And sometimes France turns against herself with a vengeance, bloody and brutal. Such was the case in the revolution of 1789. In 1790 a fierce persecution was launched against all things Catholic, and the revolutionary government stole all the properties. The new republic gave some of them back, only to seize them again.
The matter was finally resolved in the early 20th century. The French state would own all the churches built before 1905, and would be responsible for their upkeep. The Church would be allowed free use of them and control their religious identity, worship and ecclesial governance.
Thus it was French President Emmanuel Macron’s administration which was ultimately responsible for the restoration of Notre Dame after the 2019 fire, though there was extensive consultation with the Catholic authorities.
French rulers know that Notre Dame is the repository and custodian of national identity, even for those who hate the Catholic faith.
In 1793, the architects of the Reign of Terror took time out from their beheadings to create a new religion. Their “goddess of reason” needed a temple of her own. Where else to go? In France, there is only Notre Dame. Even for the secular fundamentalists, the anti-religious extremists, the ideological fanatics, Notre Dame was the only possible centre for their cult.
After the guillotines slowed and the Terror ended, Napoleon established his new regime. He moderated the anti-Catholic persecution with an agreement in 1801 with the Holy See. He too needed a centre for his own personality cult, and thus Napoleon arranged to have himself crowned emperor in 1804 at Notre Dame.
He invited Pope Pius VII to come from Rome. He did, but the goodwill didn’t last. Five years later Napoleon’s troops invaded Rome, kidnapped Pius VII and imprisoned him in France until 1814, when the emperor was exiled to the island of Elba.
In August 1944, Charles de Gaulle marched through liberated Paris. Where to go? Only one place would be worthy. He led his countrymen to Notre Dame for a Mass.
Not long after that Winston Churchill joined the general for a triumphant visit to Paris. Looking upon Notre Dame, no doubt Churchill was impressed with the flying buttresses, one of the adornments to the Gothic style that distinguishes Notre Dame.
On one occasion a complimentary clergyman said to Churchill that he was a “pillar of the church.” Somewhat abashed, he replied that he was not so much a pillar inside, but a flying buttress outside.
It’s a good image for what the state-church relationship should be. External support, but no internal meddling. A healthy society needs public spaces, including sacred spaces. That’s why even as Notre Dame was still smouldering there was wide consensus in proudly secular France that the state would rebuild it. And rebuild immediately in Macron’s bold declaration, promising that the job would be done in five years. He kept his word.
Notre Dame still stands. During the negotiations with Napoleon about the relations between church and state, the Vatican’s secretary of state was the master diplomat Ercole Consalvi. At one point, Napoleon, full of his own power, tried to intimidate Consalvi by warning him that he could destroy the Church.
Not so, Cardinal Consalvi replied. Not even Napoleon had that power.
“For 1,800 years, we (the clergy) have been trying to do it, and we haven’t succeeded!”
The faith in France cannot be destroyed. But it needs restoration, as Notre Dame did.
And Notre Dame has been restored, glorious again.
National Post