Kristin Harmel's Blog - Posts Tagged "notre-dame"
Notre-Dame de Paris will rise again
As I sat yesterday in paralyzed horror watching Notre-Dame de Paris burn, I couldn’t help but think of another Notre Dame—Notre-Dame de Reims, the largest cathedral in the Champagne region of France—and the thought gave me hope. That’s because the Reims cathedral, which looks remarkably similar and was built in the same style (French Gothic) and era (Ground was broken in Paris in the year 1163, in Reims just 48 years later in 1211.), was also nearly toppled by fire during the First World War….and was rebuilt entirely. I know that the same will be the case with Notre-Dame de Paris.
Notre-Dame de Reims, photographed on Nov. 11, 2018
In my upcoming novel, The Winemaker's Wife, which takes place largely in Reims, one of the main characters, Liv, is taking a walk through the city with her grandmother Edith, who lived in Reims during World War II (the time period during which most of the book takes places), and as they pass by the cathedral, Grandma Edith notes that it was once entirely destroyed. “You’d never know from looking at it,” Liv says, and her grandmother replies, “Yes, well, we don’t all wear our scars on the outside.”
But, as Liv learns, it is often the scars that make us who we are. Thinking of those words—and the way that cathedral rose from the ashes—gives me hope for the future of Notre-Dame de Paris, and it reminds me that that which doesn’t break us makes us stronger. As is the case with Notre-Dame de Reims, I think that the near-destruction and subsequent rebuilding of Notre-Dame de Paris will one day be something that makes us proud, something that becomes an inspiring part of the fascinating history of such a storied site.
I first saw Notre-Dame de Reims on my honeymoon in 2014, my first time in Champagne, and of course I heard the stories. Reims was more than 90% destroyed during World War I, and so the city’s survival and rebuilding is a source of great pride for those who live there now. Their cathedral—the place where thirty-three kings of France were crowned—was badly damaged on Sept. 19, 1914 when a German shell sparked a fire that spread first to the pine scaffolding that surrounded much of the cathedral, and then to the oak and lead roof. In fact, it doesn’t sound unlike the way yesterday’s fire began (minus the weaponry, of course!). But once that fire was extinguished, fate had more in store for Notre-Dame de Reims. For the next four years, it was hit by more than 300 German shells, and by the end of the war in November 1918, it was little more than rubble.
It took seventeen years, but the cathedral was entirely, meticulously restored to its original grandeur, and as Liv notes in The Winemaker's Wife, you’d never know that it had been damaged. Notre-Dame de Reims reopened to the public in 1935, and it hasn’t closed since, not even during World War II, the second horrific assault to France in a generation. In fact, the armistice to end World War II in Europe was signed just a fifteen-minute walk away, nearly in the great cathedral’s shadow.
Notre-Dame de Reims lived—and will live—to witness momentous history, and so, too, will Notre-Dame de Paris. Rebuilding will take time, but the scars that Notre-Dame de Paris will forever wear will only make it stronger—just like the scars we all wear give us strength, and make us better versions of who we are.
With my husband outside Notre-Dame de Paris in May 2014
Notre-Dame de Reims, photographed on Nov. 11, 2018
In my upcoming novel, The Winemaker's Wife, which takes place largely in Reims, one of the main characters, Liv, is taking a walk through the city with her grandmother Edith, who lived in Reims during World War II (the time period during which most of the book takes places), and as they pass by the cathedral, Grandma Edith notes that it was once entirely destroyed. “You’d never know from looking at it,” Liv says, and her grandmother replies, “Yes, well, we don’t all wear our scars on the outside.”
But, as Liv learns, it is often the scars that make us who we are. Thinking of those words—and the way that cathedral rose from the ashes—gives me hope for the future of Notre-Dame de Paris, and it reminds me that that which doesn’t break us makes us stronger. As is the case with Notre-Dame de Reims, I think that the near-destruction and subsequent rebuilding of Notre-Dame de Paris will one day be something that makes us proud, something that becomes an inspiring part of the fascinating history of such a storied site.
I first saw Notre-Dame de Reims on my honeymoon in 2014, my first time in Champagne, and of course I heard the stories. Reims was more than 90% destroyed during World War I, and so the city’s survival and rebuilding is a source of great pride for those who live there now. Their cathedral—the place where thirty-three kings of France were crowned—was badly damaged on Sept. 19, 1914 when a German shell sparked a fire that spread first to the pine scaffolding that surrounded much of the cathedral, and then to the oak and lead roof. In fact, it doesn’t sound unlike the way yesterday’s fire began (minus the weaponry, of course!). But once that fire was extinguished, fate had more in store for Notre-Dame de Reims. For the next four years, it was hit by more than 300 German shells, and by the end of the war in November 1918, it was little more than rubble.
It took seventeen years, but the cathedral was entirely, meticulously restored to its original grandeur, and as Liv notes in The Winemaker's Wife, you’d never know that it had been damaged. Notre-Dame de Reims reopened to the public in 1935, and it hasn’t closed since, not even during World War II, the second horrific assault to France in a generation. In fact, the armistice to end World War II in Europe was signed just a fifteen-minute walk away, nearly in the great cathedral’s shadow.
Notre-Dame de Reims lived—and will live—to witness momentous history, and so, too, will Notre-Dame de Paris. Rebuilding will take time, but the scars that Notre-Dame de Paris will forever wear will only make it stronger—just like the scars we all wear give us strength, and make us better versions of who we are.
With my husband outside Notre-Dame de Paris in May 2014
