I’ve never been to France. I’ve never seen the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame. But I have been to Holy Hill, Wisconsin where there is a cathedral of sorts I remember the first time I was there. I was stunned. It was like stepping back into time. A hush descends. The art is illuminated. The scents are intoxicating. The echoes mesmerizing. It’s magic. When art collides in function and form, when we imbue it with meaning, when we decorate it for beauty — this, this is when we are most human. I mourn Notre Dame. I’ve never seen it and now i never will. If Holy Hill gobsmacked me, I imagine Notre Dame would have rendered me speechless for years.