Good Friday in Notre Dame

After  a morning at the totally OTT palace of Versailles today I made my way into Notre Dame cathedral for the celebration of the passion . What a contrast.

There was a huge line outside the cathedral which surprised me. My accomplice today was one of the students travelling with us and he was delightful company. When we got to the front of the line we realised there were two entrances and the line we were on was for looking around the cathedral whereas those who wanted to attend the service were free to walk right in. Good Friday attracts the curious because it is the day the relic of the crown of thorns is displayed. I passed on that and found a seat to join the service half way up in the centre but unfortunately behind a very tall woman with fuzzy hair.

We then had time to sit and absorb our surrounding s and try to immerse ourselves into the mood of Good Friday.

The cathedral is unlike any other I have seen in Europe. So gothic. Dark, sombre and without overt decoration. It’s height and narrowness evoke man’s effort to reach heaven destined to fail without the intercession of Christ.

I don’t know what I was expecting but I didnt get it. I guess I expected lots of incense and over the top music. What we did get was very dark and sombre and perfect for the setting.

At 18.30 precisely a low grumbling note started. It couldn’t have come from the organ. It sounded like a double bass. But so low that you could hear the frequency of the sound and it reverberated through your body. It was a lot like the Tibetan monk’s chant. Totally unworldly and unnerving This note continued for minutes unembellished as the priests processed in. All forty of them. All men. ( of course ).

The masses traipsing around the edges of the cathedral were mildly interested and wanted to enter so they could photograph or video which I have to say was a distraction but the wardens did their best to reduce the impact.

After the priests reached the altar a plainsong chant opened the service. We then heard from Isiah and sung a psalm before standing for the reading of the passion. There was not a crucifix in sight but a pillar with 7 candles on the unadorned altar. The passion was chanted in plainsong with seven responses from the congregation. As each response was sung a candle was extinguished until at the end there were no lights on the altar.

In that setting, with that dark space, the effect was simply  moving.

Unfortunately we had to leave at that point and didn’t participate in the rest of the service. If it had just been me I might have stayed but had to get Anthony back for our farewell dinner. But that was strangely appropriate because even though the service was beautifully simple I was having trouble connecting. Was it the language or the bustle of the day preceding? I don’t think so. I think it was the size of the cathedral and the enormous number of men on the altar. Certainly not staying meant the whole experience was not complete but incomplete has resonance for now.

So that is where I will leave it.

More on the trip in sequence soon.