Notre-Dame de Paris, a masterpiece of Gothic architecture, stands again as a symbol to human ingenuity and resilience. Five years after the catastrophic fire of 15 April 2019, the cathedral, lovingly reconstructed with the skill and dedication of countless artisans, is unveiled to the world. It is a moment of triumph, a reflection of faith and unity—or at least it should be.
As I watch the ceremony live, my mind drifts back to a personal memory from 1984. I visited Notre-Dame with JIG, my ex wife, while in Paris. The grandeur of its spires, the solemnity of its pews, and the ethereal glow of its stained glass windows left a powerful mark on me. Today, as the bells toll once more, I am reminded of those simpler, purer moments of awe. But the scene unfolding before me is anything but pure.
President Emmanuel Macron, ever the political strategist, has orchestrated a spectacle that blends the sacred with the profane. The reopening of Notre-Dame is not just a celebration of architectural and spiritual renewal—it has been commandeered as a stage for global politics. In attendance is US President-elect Donald Trump, who arrives in the hulking “Beast”, his wife notably absent, their strained relationship an open secret. Also present is Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, seizing yet another moment to spotlight his nation’s struggles.
This is not the Notre-Dame I remember. This is not the cathedral where Joan of Arc was canonized, where Napoleon crowned himself emperor. This is a tableau of political ambition, a place where Macron seeks to salvage his faltering approval ratings and Trump basks in unearned reverence. The irony is stark: leaders who once derided Trump—Robert De Niro famously called him a “gangster”—now line up to shake his hand. The choreography is as meticulous as the reconstruction of the cathedral itself, but it reeks of opportunism.
Pope Francis, notably, is absent. His decision not to attend speaks volumes. Perhaps he, like many of us, senses the incongruity of blending sacred tradition with the transactional world of politics. The Archbishop of Paris presides over the religious ceremony, steeped in ancient rites. He knocks at the door of the cathedral, symbolically requesting entry—a moment meant to evoke humility and reverence. Yet, outside, the rain-soaked streets of Paris bear witness to a different kind of pageantry.
The ceremony begins with a tribute to the firefighters who heroically saved the cathedral during the inferno. A standing ovation ripples through the crowd, a rare and genuine moment of unity. Macron speaks of “gratitude” and “fraternity”, invoking the French national motto of “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity”. But his words ring hollow against the backdrop of the global stage he has invited to Notre-Dame.
Inside, the restored organ fills the cathedral with majestic sound. The choirs of the Maîtrise Notre-Dame de Paris sing hymns that echo through the nave, their voices a reminder of the spiritual purpose of this space. A film pays tribute to the artisans who worked tirelessly to rebuild the cathedral. It is a herculean project: 2,000 oak trees felled from forests across France, hewn into beams using medieval tools; 1,000 cubic meters of limestone carved into arches and gargoyles; 4,000 square meters of lead molded into the iconic roof.
The craftsmanship is extraordinary, a reflection of the dedication and skill of those who refused to let Notre-Dame become a relic of the past. Yet, as the ceremony progresses, the majesty of the cathedral feels overshadowed by the political theatre playing out within its walls.
Trump’s arrival is a spectacle in itself. Greeted by Macron and the Prince of Wales, he exchanges pleasantries with a pat on the shoulder and a handshake. Macron, who once mocked Trump’s policies and personality, now courts him with visible desperation. The political expediency is palpable. Meanwhile, Zelenskyy uses the occasion to reaffirm his alliance with the West, his presence a subtle reminder of the ongoing conflict in Ukraine.
Elon Musk, the billionaire who bankrolled Trump’s presidential campaign, makes his appearance, an emblem of modern excess in a place dedicated to timeless values. Musk has been appointed to co-lead the newly formed Department of Government Efficiency—a title that feels more dystopian than hopeful. His presence underscores the commodification of influence, a far cry from the humility embodied by the cathedral’s history.
Outside, the rain continues to fall, mingling with the tears of onlookers who remember the fire as if it were yesterday. The crowd stands in silent reverence as the bells of Notre-Dame ring out once more, their sound restored to its former glory. It is a poignant moment, a reminder of the resilience of both the cathedral and the people who fought to save it.
But as the ceremony reaches its crescendo, the contrast between the spiritual and the political becomes impossible to ignore. The Archbishop leads the Lord’s Prayer, a universal call for peace and unity. Yet, beyond the cathedral’s walls, the world remains as divided as ever. Damascus falls, a stark reminder of the consequences of Western interference. The irony is bitter: a celebration of renewal in Paris, while elsewhere, destruction reigns unchecked.
The reopening of Notre-Dame should have been a moment of unblemished hope, a combination to the enduring power of faith and community. Instead, it feels compromised, a stage for leaders who embody the very contradictions that the teachings of Christ sought to resolve. The Virgin Mary, her statue untouched by the flames, seems to watch over the proceedings with quiet resignation.