Our fourth day in France featured a pilgrimage to Chartres. Could one conclude that the cathedral at Chartres is one of the wonders of the world? Yesterday in conversation with three Parisians we mentioned our plans to visit Chartres. Their eyes became wide, they assured us Chartres was amazing.

The story of this great limestone, stained-glass cathedral begins in the 4th century with a building that was ordered burned in 743. And it was razed by fire many more times. The church missed destruction by shell fire in WWII by the heroism of one American soldier. Chartres is one of the outstanding historical sagas that I have encountered.  For further detail CLICK HERE to make up your own mind.

There is a great deal to stimulate the imagination if you visit this place. I thought about the many times the church has been destroyed by fire, rebuilt by the labor of stone cutters under the direction of builders commissioned by the nobility of France, – painstaking to chisel the limestone into shape. I do not believe these workmen of the middle ages felt disenchantment with their labor, since theirs was a sacrifice with an afterlife dimension. The soaring walls are impressive, – the flying buttresses supporting the walls which held the stained glass rendering of Bible stories, the glaziers were commissioned and financed by guilds, or noble families. Our guide using a lazer pointer demonstrated how an illiterate peasant of the 11th century would have read the old and new testament tales from the vivid colored human figures in the small squares.

The building is in the shape of a cross, the sides of the long nave have a number of small chapels dedicated to the veneration of saints. The altar in this church is about two thirds down the nave.  Then there’s a backdrop of white marble sculpture to inspire the worshiper, to elevate anticipation. Comment was made that this is a working church in a parish, mass is said daily.

The guide-historian who describe for us what we were experiencing, interesting enough, was from the Chicago area, an American expat. Our tour concluded with a stop at the reliquary at the end of the nave which held a relic of the virgin Mary’s shroud. I could not miss the enthusiasm in her voice when she described a number of coincidences by which an approximate 2x2ft square cloth allegedly worn by Mary at the annunciation of Jesus birth arrived at Chartres. She waxed effusive to tell how the shroud once was much larger. On display the small piece  that was left in the aftermath of the rage of the French revolution against the aristocrats and their clergy co-rulers. In the reign of terror, for 10 months, 3 weeks and one day the guillotine worked nonstop. Many churches were burned, including the shroud. 

Our guide was convinced a piece of the shroud survived by divine intervention. I was not at all convinced. She further insisted that scientific tests dated the cloth back to the first century. I fought the urge to speak up. No revolutionary with vengeance in mind would have been satisfied with less than 100 per cent immolation of the relic. Also to put it crassly, you may believe that pigs fly,-  but you are mistaken about the weight and mass relationship between the mammal in question and gravitational force. Or if a Zeus-like “sky god” is the card you insist on playing, then anything can be anything and this is a fun-house reality. 

Do I hope to visit Chartres again?  Of course.

Shall we conclude the post with a poem? This one by Charles Bukowski works.

the terror

by Charles Bukowski

the terror is in viewing the human
face
and then hearing it talk
and watching the creature
move.
the terror is knowing its
motives.
the terror is in seeing it skinned,
opened
for internal view of the
spirit
the terror is looking at the eyes.
the terror is knowing of the
centuries of its
doings.
the terror is the unchangeability
of it.
and its multiplicity,
its duplicity, it’s
everywhere, a giant mass
of it
self-revered,
self-serving,
self-destructive,
the terror of no selves
spreading from here and now into
space,
cluttering the universe,
marring pure space,
poisoning hope,
raping chance,
going on,
this massive zero of
life
labeled
Humanity.
the terror, the
horror,
the waste of them
and you and me
through and
through.