After a glorious day in Paris yesterday (Musee de Cluny, several churches, chocolate, Les Invalides, kir royale ... ), we attended 6:30 mass at Notre Dame. It was an incredible experience for a non-Catholic girl (married to a well-grounded Catholic, now lapsed).It occurred to me as I sat on a little straw chair (or rather, stood in front of it ... there was a lot of standing), that this ceremony ... mysterious, ornate, formal ... has been performed millions of times for centuries. It is a deeply beautiful ritual in itself, but to be a part of it as it played out in one of the most celebrated cathedrals in the world, minor key notes from the massive organ penetrating the smokey air (incense ... incense ... incense) was moving and meaningful.
The service was conducted in French by Monsignor Aupetit, Vicaire general du diocese de Paris. He was assisted by four priests and a man and a woman with voices from heaven who sang periodically throughout. The host was consecrated and became the Body of Christ just as He had instructed his apostles at the last supper. It was then shared with those in the assembly who wished to do so. The wine, which had been consecrated and turned into the Blood of Christ was consumed only by the monsignor and priests.
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