More than a few years ago, Gus surprised me with a week in Paris at Christmastime. In secret, he asked my boss for the time off, bought the plane tickets, booked a hotel and then, smartly, told me in time that I might pack my own suitcase for our winter getaway.
Unlike our previous visits to the City of Lights, sweating in the summer heat with all of humanity, that December it was though we had the city to ourselves. If other tourists were there, they were fewer and less conspicuous, having traded their Tevas and tube socks for parkas and long pants. We walked and ate our way through the city until our feet and stomachs ached. We admired the glittering window displays of Haussmann's boulevards and stumbled upon the medieval streets he spared, then tucked into a cozy bistro, its windows steamed with the broth of hearty pot au feu.
One evening, we crossed town to Notre Dame Cathedral to attend an Advent vespers service. A few visitors still milled about the entrance as we were handed a program and admitted behind a velvet rope to take our place among the other worshipers. The pew of smooth wood creaked as we sat, and we could feel its cold surface through our jeans.
As the service began, the incense ball swayed hypnotically, sending its fragrant offering high into the shadowy rafters above. Stone and mortar surrounded us, ancient and wise, heavy with the weight of countless prayers. Slender candles glowed in chapels around the cathedral's perimeter. Gus and I kneeled on worn velvet, shoulder to shoulder with the faithful French, and stumbled through unfamiliar words sung to familiar tunes. In that one hour we joined the thousands across seven centuries whose feet had rested on that same floor, people who came to hear the Good News and await the birth of Jesus in this spectacular setting.
When the service finished, and the organist began a breathy postlude, the ad hoc congregation silently filed out of church and scattered into the frosty December night. Today, that evening remains one of my most favorite and treasured Christmas memories.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
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