Professor Werner de Saeger, MTS ’11, is a theologian and legal scholar and teaches at the University of Cambridge and PXL University of Applied Sciences in Belgium.
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As I walked out of the Sorbonne library on Monday evening, April 15, just before 7 pm, I saw the first plumes of smoke rise from the roof of Notre Dame, and at first Parisian life continued its normal course. I had just finished an afternoon of archival research, analysing late HDS Professor François Bovon’s writings on early Christianity and his communications with French academic Pierre Geoltrain.
Families and couples took photos, tourists searched their way on smartphones, the typical bateaux mouches (riverboats) sailed past, and everything was peaceful. Moments later, flames were bursting out of the roof of the cathedral, and suddenly both press and police were omnipresent.
While the last pieces of wood were still smouldering and before the fire was completely extinguished, I witnessed an immediate sense of pragmatism to restore the monument to its former glory, with a quasi-American attitude of "let's do this - yes we can!".
Quite quickly, the question arose whether the fire of a medieval Parisian monument could rejuvenate some level of social cohesion, and unite a deeply divided French society. That question remains unanswered, and all hope has certainly not disappeared, but barely a few days later doubts appear.
In its reaction to the events of Monday evening, French society is divided both on a spiritual and socio-economic level. French citizens, and the Catholic communities in particular, are split between those who regard Catholicism as a traditional-cultural, identity-based factor—these are to be seen as “cultural Christians”—and on the other hand, the practicing Catholics who focus much more on the spiritual side of Catholicism, with the extremely pious intégristes at the end of the spectrum. They are, in a European context, hardliners on ethical questions. They are amongst those who complain about the downfall of traditional norms and values in French society. It is also they who successfully mobilize people to get on the street against, for example, the legalization of abortion and same-sex marriage.
Until late into the night, on the banks of the river Seine, in view of the burning Notre Dame, a number of devout Catholics of various origins were bonding with all those present, praying and singing “Ave Maria” together. In my conversations with quite a few attendees, several pious French Catholics did not unjustly point to the very symbolic moment: it is during Holy Week that the Cathedral of Paris burned, and some saw this as a sign of the decline of traditional French society, and even of the downfall of the Occident as a whole.
In my subsequent conversations in Paris, on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, those diverse perspectives were drawn even more distinctly. A large group of French people see Notre Dame as they see many other European symbols or events: traditions that are worth preserving, without being all too deeply connected to them spiritually.
They look with great sadness at the damaged Notre Dame and are sincerely attached to the architectural symbol that the cathedral stands for: in their words, Notre Dame represents a mix of art, religion, heritage, tradition, government, and history. They constitute a large group of French citizens who still marry in church, or go to church at Christmas, and their parents or grandparents often still receive church funerals; but they are at a far distance—often occupying straight opposite positions—from their deeply religious and sometimes ultra-conservative French fellow citizens.
The latter claim to see in this fire a signal, a sign of hope, that not everything has yet been lost, and that Catholic France has not completely disappeared. They enthusiastically see the prayers around the venerable cathedral, and they prefer, unwittingly almost literally quoting the apocryphal gospel of Thomas, "a community of real believers instead of buildings made of wood and stone."
Although there certainly is sadness within that group of Catholics, they clearly show a different reaction to the tragedy: there is less attachment to the architectural symbol of Notre Dame, and more emphasis to the potential revival of the community of believers.
Other Catholic movements, with more moderate visions that stand in the midst between a purely cultural-Christian perspective on the one hand, and the ultra-conservative faithful on the other hand, complete the diverse and pluralist mosaic of French Catholicism.
The Notre Dame has been in the hands of the French state since 1905, the year in which an agreement was reached on the relationship between church and state. France, with its particular form of secularism defined as laïcité, has played a pioneering role in the relation between church and state in Europe.
Despite many misunderstandings, often from those who have not yet thoroughly studied French socio-cultural and religious history, and despite frequent criticism from human rights activists and institutions, within a European context the French model remains one of the least detrimental—an ideal solution to the difficult matrix between government and religion is not easy to determine.
On the one hand several European governments want some form of control over religious phenomena, on the other hand the religious communities do not want too much interference. The equilibrium is not inadequate in France (although challenges exist and improvements with regards to minorities can surely be made, as elsewhere); one can hardly see a more symbolic image than the warm greeting and joint statement by president Emmanuel Macron and Michel Aupetit, Archbishop of Paris, at the Notre Dame on Monday evening. Clergy and government will cooperate for the same good cause, namely the restoration of Notre Dame; things were once very different in France indeed.
When the first major gifts were announced, there was immediate praise. François-Henri Pinault was the first to cross the bridge with a gift of 100 million euros. Followed his business competitor Bernard Arnault who donated double that amount. The Bettencourt-Meyers family fairly quickly announced to also donate 200 million euros. The Bouygues and Ladreit de Lacharrière families both donate 10 million euros. Just a few days after the fire, all those gifts together reach a billion euros, a very exceptional situation in France where charities definitely do not operate at a similar level as in the U.S.
But the first critical voices quickly came to surface. Namely, it appears that the donations could be so advantageous for tax purposes, that members of the yellow vests protests movement (the so called gilets jaunes), but also a number of politicians and French citizens, pointed to the obligation to pay taxes in the first place, instead of using the tragedy for personal branding and/or other advantages by making large donations. In response, the Pinault family stated that it would waive any tax benefit that would result from the gift. It immediately set the bitter tone of the debate, and instantly connects the entire socio-economic debate which so deeply divides French society to the fire of Notre Dame.
In a certain way, that imbroglio makes sense, because the cathedral is the symbiosis par excellence of religion and government in France. Not only because of the state being the owner of the real estate, but also because of the long history that links secular and spiritual authorities in the series of historical events that took place in the cathedral.
The whole narrative about Notre Dame thus becomes part of the painful atmosphere that has marked France since the fall of 2018. If such an amount of money can be made available for the cathedral in a matter of hours or days, why is it impossible to assist so many French citizens (or refugees residing in France) who have a hard time to make ends meet? That is the pertinent but nonetheless aggressive question asked by many of the gilets jaunes, and some citizens, who look suspiciously at the select group of billionaires and millionaires who want to finance the reconstruction of Notre Dame.
The construction of Notre Dame was started in 1163, previously there already was a Romanesque cathedral, and before that there probably was an early Christian basilica, which in turn likely stood on the site of a Gallo-Roman temple. In other words: disasters, wars, and fires did not crush Notre Dame; the place is sacred and historic in many respects.
The cathedral will also survive this disaster, and with a probability bordering on certainty, whatever the turbulent times we end up in, it will still stand for a long time.
How French society is evolving is a much bigger question; the very fact that there is clear division within the Catholic community and substantial enmity in a broader societal context is undeniable. It seems that this fire will not fully forge the necessary change for more social cohesion and unity, but at the very least it can be a symbolic step towards reconciliation.
A Parisian believer said on Tuesday morning: "Le Seigneur prend des voies mystérieuses" [God's ways are incomprehensible]; and more than ever this week I can confirm: l'espoir fait vivre [Hope is what makes us live].