1. Peggy Noonan, Out of the Ashes of Notre Dame:

2. Russell Moore:

Too much rootedness can cause us to mistake our land of sojourn for the kingdom, causing us to forget that we are wayfarers and strangers. But not enough rootedness can cause us to grow ungrateful for the ways that God has acted in space and time, for us. That’s true not just in the broad sweep of redemptive history, but also in your own life.

3. Fr. Roger Landry: Notre Dame’s Burnt Sacrifice: A Reminder God Is With Us

4.

More here.

5. In the British Spectator: Without Christ we would not have western values

(And that cover image!)

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9. A poem:

Strangers pilgrims guests in the ancient streets.

Seen fire! Seen rains rushing waters!

Standing speechless still long the Seine…

River watches riveting in astonished awfulness.

The pulsing pounding heart of Paris.

The parish place where Church goes global.

Notre Dame…our mother.

Notre Dame…our lady

Notre Dame…our blessed beauty.

Truly terrible beauty set apart always welcoming.

Weaving faith-filled tapestry language all its own;

Two hundred years to rise up in medieval moments.

Labored over lovingly, creatively, even dangerously.

To Become Thee Isle Cathedral that left its mark.

Two hours plus to fall much as anguished Lenten ashes.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts – and aches.

Yet two bell towers stand strong tall to peel anew later.

To ring out once more remaining echoing Vox Dei!

Angels with dirtied faces, gargoyles greased up now.

Iconic spire soaring strains to great centuries beyond.

Burning…bruised, battered, broken, deeply bothered.

Indeed, indeed, “How can this be” as she said long ago?

Incredible creation amidst nation emerging then suffering.

Prayers prayed there…the many many many

Candles lit there…the many multiplying millions

Saints and sinners singing there still…13 millions more.

That skyscraper spire piercing crossing earth to heavens.

Falls…falls…falls over…as Via Dolorosa crashing…

Looking lonely veterans in nightnoise modern crises.

Beyond us, below us, beneath us, before us – weeping.

To hear, to feel, almost to smell her precious scent in ruins.

Mater Dolorosa now.

Mother of Perpetual Help, Bon Secours…forever

His gift for us

Always.

Her holy home in the city of her peoples…

She will sing, she will soar, she will pray…

No moments of being, belonging ever lost.

How olde is her soul ~ how olde her children now.

Her humility her familiar strength stretching blessed beyond.

Oh, Immaculate Virgin in the heart of Paris even wounded

We pray you watch, watch over all the faithful hopeful living.

Oh, Virgin Mary, Our Treasured Mother, from the banks of the Seine,

We pray you heal nurture hopes known unknown unsure afraid.

Oh, Mother full of grace, in this holy sacred secular space

Gather us together God’s own scattered children discovering unity

Finding FAITH & HOPE & LOVE beyond rose-colored windows

To let your light shine through more than ever bright darkness now.

Death destruction never contain you, protect us too all in your heart

EASTER in us, with us, thru us ~ cross over RESURRECTION ever!

Joseph Cornelius Donnelly

Palm Tuesday into Holy Wednesday

April 2019 – New York City on the banks of the Hudson