Saint Luke 9:28-36
When standing in front of the still smoldering ruins of Notre Dame Cathedral French President Emmanuel Macron announced that he wanted to see Notre Dame Cathedral rebuilt “more beautiful than before” within “five years” most of the ever cynical French and perhaps even the rest of the world probably responded with the word: “Impossible.”
Indeed, even The Guardian reported that there were “warnings that the repairs could take decades and will involve substantial challenges.The main problems include the sourcing of materials and painstaking work to preserve elements of the church that have survived the fire but might have been badly damaged by it.”1
Looking at the pictures no one could fault the dim outlook. Looking at the pictures no one could fault the dim outlook.
We had watched the spire that dated back to the mid 19th century, tilt, tumble and fall through the roof to the gasps of onlookers. No building could survive this devastation we thought.
We looked down the centre aisle of the church and saw piles and piles of rubble and thought to ourselves it will take five years at least to just clean-up the mess.
Images of the outside made the task seem even more insurmountable.
Besides we know how long it takes to even build a cathedral much less restore one.
The National Cathedral in Washington D.C. took around 70 years to complete. Ground was broken on Grace Cathedral in San Francisco in 1927 and not finished until 1964. And, we are still waiting for Saint John the Divine in New York to be finished and cranes still surround the Sagrada Familia Basilica in Barcelona in a task the looks like will never be finished.
Besides, some of us non-frankophiles wondered how a country known best for wine, baguets, ennui, and general strikes, could be able to get anything done in five years. “Non. Mon amie.” Hercule Pairot might have told the president. “What you speak of is impossible.”
The secret, according to Bill Whitiker in a 60 Minutes report on the opening, were the hundreds of craftspeople needed to pull off a restoration so fast, so meticulous, and so true to Notre Dame's past. They are known as compagnons, a shorthand for the Compagnons du Devoir, or the Companions of Duty. These workers are part of a French organization of craftsmen and artisans that dates from the Middle Ages and keeps alive medieval skills like stone carving and iron forging.
At Notre Dame, these carpenters, roofers, and art restorers have been guardians of history. The stained-glass windows glow once again. The stone walls, now scrubbed of fire's soot and time's grime, are newly bright. The organ has its own choir of 8,000 pipes, each freshly calibrated.3
What was discovered when they finished was that the grand old cathedral went from being a dark place from centuries of wear and tear to being a stunningly white, bright, beautiful building. It was transfigured into something that no one had seen in centuries. And all because of the “companions.”
We all need companions.
That may be why Jesus took Peter, James, and John up to the mountaintop with him to pray.
They were his companions in life, and he had just told a little more than a week earlier that they were going to be his companions in moments of rejection, suffering, and maybe even death.
He needed companions to be with him as he prayed and in light of the news he had just dropped on them, they needed to pray too.
Suddenly we are told his appearance went from being as they were used to seeing to watching “the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning.”3 He was as bright as the newly restored Cathedral.
To make this scene even more amazing suddenly it looked like Moses and Elijah, two prophets of old, were there speaking with Jesus. This is would more astounding than having Charles de Gaulle and Francois Matterrand sitting side by side at Notre Dame’s opening ceremonies.
Lutheran Pastor Brian Stoffregen has always wondered, how did they know it was Moses and Elijah?
Did they have pictures of them hanging in their synagogues? Did they have their names over their pockets on their presumably white robes -- or perhaps their names were printed on the back, across their shoulders like football players? However, they knew who they were, they represent the law and the prophets.4
It’s a moment worth preserving which is exactly what Peter wants to do. And why not?
Moments like this need to be saved and savoured. This is not only a moment worth preserving but it would serve another purpose: It would keep Jesus safe. All of those predictions about his suffering, and dying could never take place if he was safely ensconced in a house on the mountain. Nothing could ever happen to him in a mountaintop retreat.
At this moment it is almost as if the LORD God had to blow a whistle, pull back on the reigns and say, “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!”
While he was babbling on like this, a light-radiant cloud enveloped them. As they found themselves buried in the cloud, they became deeply aware of God. Then there was a voice out of the cloud: “This is my Son, the Chosen! Listen to him.”6
The voice that we think probably sounded like Morgan Freeman’s stops their mountaintop development plans in their tracks and leads them back down the mountain where these companions of Jesus find there is still much work to do.
The next day they discover just how hard that work will be.
They are confronted by a father whose son is in terrible trouble. The disciples have tried to heal him, make him whole, but this is one cathedral that they cannot rebuild.
I love the way Saint Mark tells of the exchange between the young man’s father and Jesus. The father asks Jesus if he could do something that his companions could not and Jesus responds that all things are possible to one who believes him. To this the Father replies: “I believe; help my unbelief.”
Most of us, companions of Christ, live our lives between mountaintop moments of sharp certainty and moments when all we can do is walk on in faith.
Sometimes life is as grand and glorious as the newly restored Notre Dame but at other times is looks like the ceiling has fallen in and it will take all we have to do our duty and walk with Christ along the way.
That’s why I love the way Saint Mark concludes the stories of Mountaintop moments as companions of Jesus and the father’s plaintive plea as another who seeks to be a companion of our Lord with the father’s words, “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.”
And that is why I also love the way Dr. Tom Are, the interim pastor at Fourth Church concludes every sermon he has every preached in his ministry when he invites the congregation to pray with him saying. “Lord, we believe. Help our unbelief.”
So we, as Christ’s companions pray this day those very words. “Lord, we believe. Help our unbelief.”
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1. Kate Lyons, “Notre Dame Fire: Macron Promises to Rebuild Cathedral within Five Years,” The Guardian, April 17, 2019, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2019/apr/17/notre-dame-fire-macron-promises-to-make-cathedral-more-beautiful-than-before.
2. Brit McCandless Farmer, “The People Who Helped Resurrect Notre Dame,” episode, 60 Minutes Overtime (CBS, December 29, 2024).
3. St. Luke 9:29. (NIV) [NIV=The New International Version]
4. Brian Stoffregen. “Matthew 17.1-9 Transfiguration of Our Lord Last Sunday after the Epiphany - Year A.” Exegetical Notes at CrossMarks. Crossmaks Christian Resources. Accessed February 22, 2020. http://www.crossmarks.com/brian/matt17x1.htm.
5. St. Luke 9:34-35. (MESSAGE)[MESSAGE=Eugene H. Peterson, The Message: The New Testament in Contemporary English (Colorado Springs,, CO: NavPress,1995).]
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