Easter Week I

Easter in Paris. With my family. Marvelous. Wonderful. Frigid. Yes, the coldest winter I ever spent was spring in Paris--with apologies to Mark Twain. But really I should not complain. It is a blessing to be here, and to spend time with my beautiful daughter, who is studying abroad for a semester.

There is much to love about Paris. No surprise there. A highlight was Easter Mass at the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Yes, that Notre Dame. Prior to Mass, there was a magnificent half-hour of Gregorian chant for Lauds. The music was outstanding and memorable. For Mass, the Cardinal presided. It is so moving to attend Mass in a foreign country--even when one does not understand the language. It brings to my mind that Catholics all over the world were hearing the same readings, saying the same prayers, and celebrating the same astounding, impossible event--the Resurrection of the God-made-man. Somehow, it felt more devotional and more reverent than the Good Friday veneration of the crown of thorns.

At the end of Mass, the new bells of Notre Dame were rung. The bells were just recently replaced, as part of the 850th anniversary of Notre Dame. Apparently, they had been out of tune for years, if not centuries. These new bells made an unforgettable sound that resonated within the church and outside for blocks around. 

We followed with a delicious luncheon at Chez Julien just across the Seine to cap off a very moving and memorable morning.