By Robert Royal.

But first a note: Sometimes it goes right. One of the most iconic churches in Christendom returned to active use again this weekend. Resurrection to even greater life is a central feature of Christianity. And it's worth recalling that much else that we may consider beyond repair in our culture may just be waiting for the right efforts to come to life again. But that means making proper efforts and sacrifices on our part. Here at TCT we not only try to keep Catholic things alive, we're determined to make the presence of the Faith in the world stronger, broader, brighter. If you'd like to be part of those efforts, please, we're well into our fundraising campaign now and still need significant support. Your gifts can be a gift to many others in many ways. Just click the button below, follow the simple instructions, and we'll all still be here in 2025 renewed and ready for more action.

Now for today's column...

The re-opening of the Cathedral of Notre Dame this weekend reminded me of an experience I had there over a decade ago - and has stayed with me ever since. I was in Paris to give a lecture on my book about the twentieth-century martyrs. (The sequel, on the 21st-century martyrs, will be published in May for the 2025 Jubilee). I stopped into Notre Dame for evening prayer. There was just a small group of us - not even fifteen. Afterwards, the priest remarked that all the scaffolding had, finally, just been taken down. (There had been internal work being done for what must have been years.) He said, enjoy seeing the whole church again, but don't linger too long. The guards and other workers had to lock up and get home.

I must have been the sole non-Parisian because everyone else just vanished. And, marvelously, I had Notre Dame de Paris all to myself for a few minutes. It felt like being engulfed, not so much by the beauties of the building, which are countless, to be sure. But you can mostly see those even when the church is full of tourists. What struck me, without thinking about it, was the length and breadth and height of Notre Dame, and the sheer scope of the Faith in France, with its centuries of great geniuses and saints - and also, alas, since the French Revolution, its many martyrs and apostates.

Outside the main entrance on the Parvis Notre Dame-Place John Paul II, it was the hour entre le chien et le loup. A vivid old expression about uncertainty at dusk, when you can't distinguish "between a dog and a wolf." (In the countryside, where the phrase probably originated, meeting a dog in the dark is okay. Meeting a wolf is not.) There's a medallion in the pavement there marking Point Zéro, the center of Paris and of France. I think that's still the case, though for many French and millions of tourists, the specialty boutiques and the high-end restaurants and the now-lost bohemianism of the Left Bank are what the city and the country are all about.

No longer the "Eldest Daughter of the Church," but the Eldest Estranged Daughter.

And yet. . . .There's no denying that much of the world is somehow relieved, even celebrating, that Notre Dame survived. The unexpected size and number of donations - a billion euros, probably a little larger than the actual costs of repair, a lot from America - attest to the fact. And the pictures of the now bright interior - secondary controversies about altar and vestment designs aside - present a stunning Catholic image, without recent rival.

There's something more to it also, a sense as if among so many other priceless things that our world has lost, this one at least, in the end, had to be saved. And was. And more importantly, at least for some of us, points towards something.

Which is why it is unfortunate that Pope Francis decided not to attend the re-opening. He sent a message encouraging the French to reclaim their heritage. Lord knows they need it. Even French President Macron said that Notre Dame "tells us how much meaning and transcendence help us to live in this wo...