2. THUNDER CLAPS TO SIGHING LEAVES IN NOTRE DAME (1992)



Liz Kwan popped in and we revelled in Paris



In my two months (November-December 92) in Paris, in preparation  for a six months course in Rome the following year I grabbed some great opportunities to indulge in French culture. Yes, getting “my” French up to speed was necessary as we would live as a French-speaking community of some thirty Brothers from all over and the course lectures and papers would be all in that lovely language. It was a challenge, attending classes at Ecole Berlitze and then scampering back to my “garret” at Rue Dareau to bash the books. But it did have some compensations and remarkable experiences.

The most uplifting, verging on awesome occurred in Notre Dame Cathedral on a cold November Sunday. How many centuries it had stood as a beacon  through great upheavals and dramas as well as times of peace? Not to mention the searing times of the French Revolution when the ultimate sacrilege had been perpetrated. Declaring the “old religion” dead, the great haters had declared it a pagan temple and even installed a “goddess of reason”.

This Sunday, two hundred years later, was to be historical. Cardinal Lustiger was to be the bless and inaugurate the grand cathedral organ, after nearly three years of painstaking and very expensive restoration.

I realised that there would be a crowd for this rare event, and so I arrived an hour earlier. Maybe two hours earlier might have been a better plan. As I entered the great portals I was aghast. The congregation/audience, all well rugged up, was a solid mass of Parisians who  had  planned better than I.



My school- Ecole Berlitz, third floor

 What to do? I decided to brazen it. I proceeded, with some gravitas, down the centre aisle, peering left and right. Surely, there would be some spot unclaimed, even a gap I could squeeze into. No dice; it was jam- packed and generating lots of body heat.  Reaching the sanctuary I genuflected and moved over to the right aisle. As I rounded a gigantic pillar, the miracle happened! There was this unoccupied place at the end of the seat. I swooped on it, feeling oh so grateful. Once seated, I got a shock. This massive column soared skyward and blocked all viewing,  apart from the far left corner of the sanctuary. I quietly fumed and reassessed.

Just then the congregation arose as Cardinal Lustiger, in full regalia and accompanied by a long line of clerics  proceeded down the aisle, to much ovation. After genuflections and  bowings the clerics arranging themselves in the sanctuary, the cardinal about -turned and moved back half way down the church to the pulpit, which commanded a view over the expectant congregation. Suddenly I realised I had a perfect view as I swivelled around. Thank God for my blunder.

But how do you, re-install, call a magnificent, centuries -old  monarch of instruments back into life to proclaim the wonder and glory of God in this most sacred space? I thought there would be an appropriate prayer along with the blessing and add a hymn or two.  Nothing so pedestrian as that! What happened next was really a wonderful dialogue between the cardinal and this awesome instrument. Or maybe, more like a litany which showed off, in coruscating brilliant style the world, universe of sound of this triumph of musical invention. Obviously, the large crowd would be expecting this and would not be disappointed..

The Cardinal gave a command to the organ, calling forth its power.



Br. Gilbert was a most helpful tutor

 “In the name of God the Father, the creator of heaven and earth, I command you, grand organ to respond.”

The response was overwhelming. A grand  harmony came thundering forth with such power and wonder that you could sense the world being shaped by a mighty hand. It brought images of Michelangelo’s  masterpiece in the Sistine chapel. Though it lasted but a minute or two our the spirits soared and  eyes sparkled.

Another command: In the name of Jesus, Word before time began, Son of God whom Father sent out of love to redeem mankind and bring the utter fullness of life, I command you ,great organ to proclaim.

Again, a brief masterpiece of magnificent blast cascaded down from the heights. There was the kingly power as well as Christ’s overwhelming love communicated. I felt transported to Galilee, journeying with Jesus, in his preaching, healing mission to bring Good News to the poor and freedom from all oppression.

In the name of the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, the comforter who remains with us.  This loving Spirit continues to inspire, to embrace us with his marvellous gifts and guide us to hope and peace.

The response was almost tremulous. A light breeze wafting through the great building and then swelling to some glorious harmony  that breathed peace and love and joy.

And so the litany continued:

In the name of Mary, mother of Jesus, who’s YES to the angel’s request began the great transformation of our world and in her pondering in her heart leads all of us, her children in our pilgrimage of hope.

Would Mozart have composed anything so beautiful which spoke of the faith of the people of France who found such love and inspiration in their NOTRE DAME?

There was more as various saints took briefly centre stage and called for some beautiful response.

Certainly the new organ triumphed and displayed in such bravura style the immense range the possibilities as a grand instrument of praise to God.

I must say, I felt  breathless through most of this performance.

What next?

The cardinal moved down the centre aisle to the altar to celebrate a grand Mass. Well, I would be walled off that that drama, behind my column. Ah, no! There was some shuffling and movement around the cathedral. And also in my pew. It seems that now the “show” was over, many had not intended to attend Mass? How wonderful! With three or four leaving from my row I was able to shuffle along until I had a perfect view of the sanctuary, just six rows back.



A Marist Mix - Far Left, Br.Cyprien, an old master from 1947!

 Who said “fortune favour the brave”?

Or “Knock and it shall be opened to you.”?

I had time to be playfully distracted. If only I could have replayed some of the great chapters of momentous events acted out here. How many kings were crowned here, was it here that Napoleon in a fit of hubris had snatched the crown from the pope to crown himself emperor. Or at another level, how many distressed mother, fathers and simple people had poured out their hearts to beg a favour from a Mother afflicted. 

My heart was singing for days. I took the metro back to St. Jacques and was in time to join a bunch of Brothers at lunch. In my less that flawless French but with an impressive Parisian accent I was able to regale them with my prize story.