When you open the door and step inside the Collégiale Notre-Dame-des-Anges, be prepared for your jaw to drop. This 17th-century Baroque masterpiece, originally founded in the 13th century and later transformed, is a feast for the eyes. Richly decorated with gilded woodwork and intricate sculptures, it’s almost impossible to know where to look first. But when your eyes finally come to rest, you’ll be held in awe by the craftsmanship—so enduring, so inspired—that it continues to hold beauty that reaches toward the heavens while remaining grounded here on earth.
One of the principal artists who contributed to the Collégiale Notre-Dame-des-Anges was Jean Péru, born in 1650- best known for the 22 wood and gilded allegorical statues representing the Virtues.
Here’s my description of the 22 virtues—a list that feels like good guidance for me and my day-to-day life: trust, hope, compassion, common sense, fairness, bravery, self-discipline, humility, patience, integrity, willingness to listen, gratitude, kindness, hard work, modesty, calmness, sticking with it, truthfulness, good judgment, respect, generosity, and commitment.
There’s a painting in the church with a little angel tucked in the corner. I like to think of that angel as a symbol of conscience—a nudge, a reminder to walk in grace and live with integrity.
There’s so much wealth and opulence in the historical churches of France—their doors open freely, offering all of us a glimpse of extraordinary beauty. That beauty gave artisans of the time their daily bread, their purpose, their legacy. And yet, it’s hard not to feel the weight of contrast, knowing that while these sacred spaces were adorned with gold, poverty lived just outside their doors. It makes me think about how we hold beauty, abundance, and suffering side by side—and how difficult it is to seek a balance, to honor one without condemning the other.
When I am in these places—surrounded by centuries-old art, the echoes of both devotion and inequality—I’m reminded that life is rarely just one thing. Beauty and suffering, abundance and simplicity, spirit and flesh—they live side by side.
And maybe that’s the call of these places: To carry forward the virtues, to let beauty open us rather than blind us, and to keep listening for the voice that reminds us who we’re meant to be.
For me, it’s a mix of wonder, conscience, to live each day a little more awake.
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