Notre Dame

As I alluded to in a previous post, I attended a service at Notre Dame last Sunday morning. I was excited for several reasons. First, I wanted to see the beautiful architecture of this famous cathedral. Secondly, I wanted to be in a place of worship, as my soul was feeling the need for community.

As I walked in, my heart was indeed stirred to worship by the unspeakable beauty that surrounded. Like beautiful music, beautiful architecture awakens my heart to praise God who is the Ultimate Artist.

I have very few pictures of the inside, because cameras were prohibited during the service. For that I am glad. Unfortunately, there were many people on the tourist side of the ropes snapping photos with flash while the rest of us were singing praises in Latin. It disgusted me that a time of worship should be a spectacle, but I'll not go off on a tangent right now.

The third reason I was very excited about this service is for the historical ties to music. I've never been to Mass before (I was also curious about this), but the service I attended was very traditional. I had a nerd moment when handed a song sheet. The chants were not written in modern notation, but in the notation used in the Middle Ages, called neumes . Yes, this girl payed attention in music history. One of our class projects was to take an original chant written in neumes and re-write it in modern day notation. Basically this means I could read the music fairly well and follow the cantor's cues.

I even remembered some of the Ordinary chants and knew some of the phrases that were sung. When I didn't know what was going on, I just stood and listened as voices filled the vastness of the church. At times it was apparent that there were people like me, people who didn't understand the whole of what was going on. During certain moments, there was a sense of emptiness within the old walls, too.

The order of service I was handed had the Old and New Testament Scriptures in French, Spanish, and English. For this was increasingly thankful. The passages were Isaiah 55:10-11 and Romans 8:18-25. I loved praying through them as they were read in French.

There was a warning in these three languages about the importance of the Lord's Supper for Christians. Since I am a follower of Christ, I found no reason to abstain from this ordinance. I stood in line and slowly made my way to the front of the Cathedral. As I approached the priest, I held out my hands for the bread. He looked at me and then immediately began speaking in French. Imagine my panic - standing at the very front of Notre Dame during a very reverent part of the service - as he began to question me in French. I held my head low and whispered as quietly as possible that I only spoke English. Somehow my whispers seemed to reach the ornate ceilings and echo off the ancient stones. His words rang clearly in my ears this time: "Are you Catholic?"

I murmured, a little more loudly this time, that I was Christian.

He looked at me through cold eyes and made a gesture (to bless me, I think) before moving me aside. I returned to my seat feeling void of spiritual nourishment and more of the emptiness than the beauty of the place.

It was a sorry note to end on, but I am still glad for the overall experience. Sure makes me miss my home church, though! Wish I could be worshipping with my family today. My sister will be in the pews this morning, and my nephew is being dedicated at a nearby church at an earlier service. My heart is saddened to be absent for these events.

Shoot. Didn't meant to get all emotional! I'm sitting in a McDonald's of all places. How embarrassing! Better wrap this up!

Here are some photos I took after the service.