Ever met a Cephalophore? I hadn’t either until I happened upon one last week chilling with his angel posse on top of some griffins and a dwarf. They were on the façade of Notre Dame along with so many other miraculous creatures it made your head spin. Dennis (which is the name of this particular Cephalophore) looked quite contented, regal even, holding his head in his hands and looking down on me with a slight patronizing smirk.
The pagans beheaded this Parisian bishop on Montmartre – a sacred site for them that is now one of Paris’ bustling cultural hoods. Dennis was undaunted by this setback, however. He picked up his noggin and carried it for miles up to the top of the hill, preaching all the way. A pretty unique way to go, one would think. However, Dennis is in good company with a slew of other saints that took lifelessness on their own time scale. Some finished the passage they were reading before laying down to rest (true nerds, these). A young boy waited for his dad to get home so that he could bring the head to his mom for a kiss. I know these dead men walking were impressive displays of the power of Christian faith above polytheism and all, but I have to ask. What’s more pagan than that?
I am reminded of the Headless Hunt, which poor Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington (Nearly Headless Nick) was not allowed to join, in Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets. But perhaps I am being a bit too secular...
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