Opinion: The importance of feeling awe

A view of the Great Organ and the Western Rose window before the inaugural Mass, with the consecration of the high altar, at the Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral, five-and-a-half years after a fire ravaged the Gothic masterpiece, as part of ceremonies to mark the Cathedral's reopening after its restoration, in Paris, France, Sunday, Dec. 8, 2024. (Sarah Meyssonnier/Pool Photo via AP)

A view of the Great Organ and the Western Rose window before the inaugural Mass, with the consecration of the high altar, at the Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral, five-and-a-half years after a fire ravaged the Gothic masterpiece, as part of ceremonies to mark the Cathedral's reopening after its restoration, in Paris, France, Sunday, Dec. 8, 2024. (Sarah Meyssonnier/Pool Photo via AP) Sarah Meyssonnier

A view of stained glass windows during an inaugural Mass, with the consecration of the high altar, at the Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral, in Paris, France, Sunday, Dec. 8.

A view of stained glass windows during an inaugural Mass, with the consecration of the high altar, at the Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral, in Paris, France, Sunday, Dec. 8. Sarah Meyssonnier / AP

By MILLIE LAFONTAINE

Published: 12-13-2024 3:01 PM

Millie LaFontaine lives in Concord.

I have had the privilege of visiting the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris, not just once, but several times over the course of my lifetime. Standing in the nave each time, I have felt and understood true awe. The vastness of the space, the beauty of the great gothic arches, the luminescence of the gorgeous windows, are at once uplifting and humbling.

Those occasions in that beautiful place were among the special times over the years I have felt a sense of awe. I have felt it gazing up at a blanket of stars on a clear night, or standing in a forest of towering trees, or seeing a canyon or a mountain for the first time, or the thirtieth.

It would be almost impossible for me to stand in a holy space like Notre Dame and not be mindful of the enormity of creation and the sweep of history. In experiencing awe, I’ve also felt not only my own smallness, but also the implied obligation to spread goodwill among my fellow human beings.

When I saw images of Notre Dame burning in 2019, it felt catastrophic. It seemed like an ironic and cruel reminder that the world was in even deeper disarray than I had wanted to believe. My own country seemed to be lurching toward chaos under the so-called leadership of a narcissistic despot. Forever wars and famine gripped so much of the world. And that was even before the pandemic, before Russia’s war on Ukraine, or Israel’s war on Gaza.

In 2019 I was cynical enough to dismiss the French president’s promise to rebuild the cathedral in five years. The images we have just been able to view of the now-gleaming Notre Dame, exactly five years later, are deeply moving, and awe-inspiring once again. We might have seen the hand-hewn beams, dubbed “the forest,” assembled as they would have been centuries ago, forming the roof of this magnificent structure. We can see the sparkling clean walls and windows, brilliant even on a dark day. I am hoping that all those entering there will be both uplifted and humbled.

This past week we watched French President Emmanuel Macron enter this jewel of the French people. We also might have watched our own president-elect stride alongside him. I can’t help but reflect that the latter is the very same person who seemed entirely focused on his own personal aggrandizement and on the toppling of democratic ideals during his first term, and shows even more determination to finish the deal in his upcoming term.

When I saw Macron apply pressure like a shepherd’s crook to steer the president-elect toward Volodymyr Zelenskyy, the president of Ukraine, I took in a deep breath. I can only hope that our president-elect was sufficiently distracted from his preening in the spotlight to feel the awe of that holy space, and to understand, even dimly, that it is not all about ‘America First,’ and it is definitely not all about himself first. I can only hope he felt a shred of humility, that perhaps he came closer to the realization that aggrandizing himself at the expense of those he somehow persuaded to vote for him will not end as he, or they, think it will.

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This time of year, the darkest, coldest time, is when we are drawn most to light and to the warmth of friendship and caring. Regardless of our faith tradition, or even lack thereof, it is an important time to remind ourselves that there is strength in humility, and there is uplift in caring, compassion, and goodwill towards others. If it feels like the roof is falling down around us, we can still choose hope and hard work, and we can still build towards a better future for all.