By Fred Woodward

In the archetypal consciousness of the people of France and in the West broadly considered, there is arguably no building more prominent than Notre-Dame cathedral. A few other buildings may vie with the cathedral’s status, such as St. Peter’s basilica and Westminster abbey, but none can excel its grandeur and national prominence.

More than an impressive architectural phenomenon (though this label can certainly be accurately applied to the edifice), Notre-Dame is a cultural lynch-pin for the French and even for those who likely do not consider themselves believers in the various respects that the term can be applied. 

It represents, as it were, a touchstone for the people of the region, an external and objective confirmation of an internal reality, a pride in belonging to an incarnational place, a mode of being united with a people, and the finding of an identity in the best that a culture’s history can offer.

It represents, as it were, a touchstone for the people of the region, an external and objective confirmation of an internal reality, a pride in belonging to an incarnational place, a mode of being united with a people, and the finding of an identity in the best that a culture’s history can offer.

When we consider the cathedral through the eyes of the believer, what emerges is a means of further elevating all these natural goods to their highest end, an ultimately supernatural telos. This, more than anything else, encompasses the original purpose of the cathedral’s construction. The idea of the transcendent is perhaps revealed best by the mysterious yet expressive Gothic style in which Notre-Dame is built. 

Abbot Suger, father of the Gothic Cathedral style, laid out the precedent for this priority in his eponymously named book not even two decades before construction began on Notre-Dame. To paraphrase Suger, by the grace of God, this masterpiece of architectural style would so elevate and transform the believer and his surrounding community that heaven might, in a way, touch earth.

The sacred significance that Notre-Dame possesses is also demonstrated by its location. As art historians Helen Gardner and Fred Kleiner noted in the classic text Art through the Ages, cathedrals such as Notre-Dame were intentionally placed at the very center of the cities whose devoted citizens sacrificed so much to help build them. These same people then went on to build their homes and businesses in physical proximity to the cathedral, further cementing its role as both source and symbol of France’s cultural ethos. 

This observation also helps to explain the shock that many in France and around the world experienced when they saw on television and social media the magnificent structure aflame and collapsing in upon itself. Many, perhaps more subconsciously than intentionally, analogized this to an overall view of the West—a place occupied by people who, no longer sure of their identity, felt that they too were collapsing in upon themselves—their institutions ablaze, but their hearts still cold. 

This perception, however, is beginning to be reversed. In a political embodiment of the hope for renewal that the reopening of Notre-Dame brought earlier this year, a burgeoning American-Western renaissance has begun. This is due largely in part to decisive action on the part of President Donald Trump, as well as a newly confident posture that European nations such as Italy have taken with regard to the proud points of their heritage, and the customs and traditions that formed them. 

The motto of my home city of Detroit comes to mind now. Ironically enough, this saying was penned by yet another French clergyman, a Sulpician priest named Gabriel Richard who was exiled by Revolutionaries, the very group who sought in later centuries to deface Notre-Dame, along with so much of France’s iconic Gothic Architecture. 

Speramus meliora; resurget cineribus. “We hope for better things” the phrase says, “they will rise from the ashes.”

In the wake of the 1805 fire that nearly obliterated Detroit, Fr. Richard coined the following motto for the city’s new government: Speramus meliora; resurget cineribus. “We hope for better things” the phrase says, “they will rise from the ashes.” 

Like the mythical phoenix, the rebuilding of the Notre-Dame cathedral has become a beacon of hope for many. The proud spire of the cathedral standing tall once again against the French sky is an assertion that the West has not ceased breathing through her twin lungs of tradition and culture. Pride and purpose can still be found by those searching for them.

Like the mythical phoenix, the rebuilding of the Notre-Dame cathedral has become a beacon of hope for many. The proud spire of the cathedral standing tall once again against the French sky is an assertion that the West has not ceased breathing through her twin lungs of tradition and culture. Pride and purpose can still be found by those searching for them. It is by the West’s fidelity to what made France and the Church great, analogized by the loving detail and care shown to each recreated architectural piece being installed and blessed anew in Notre-Dame’s reconstruction, that we too may restore greatness in ourselves and in our own country once again.

Frederick Woodward is a sophomore studying Political Economy, Journalism, and Finance.