Dirt of Ages

After a great tragedy, Notre-Dame cathedral has been restored. Cleaned, polished, “better than ever”. Yet, somehow, the shiny new stones and woodwork have lost their aura of magic. The “dirt of ages” is missing, and more than mere grime has vanished .

There was a feeling – as there often is in older places – of the weight of time. The countless years of visitors and worshipers weighed on the soul. True, most tourists neglected to know that the place had been vandalized during the revolution and reimagined by Violet Le Duc. But it was dignified, solemn, and quite different from a magnificent modern edifice.

This is an era that prizes only the new, even as it restlessly searches for meaning and roots – which it destroys every day in the name of progress. Sometimes with reason. A new church is far more comfortable than the chilly, dark, rigid old structures .

Mostly, I’m just as caught up in shiny new as anyone else. More than many, however, I try to take time to venerate the old, respect the past, be awed by the ancient. Like many experiences, that mood is enhanced by odd details, including wear, nicks, and dirt. It seems more real, truly authentic .

Glad I got to visit Notre Dame before Mr Clean arrived .