As I said in a blog earlier this week, Ed and I have been touring Europe with Louis, our 11-year-old grandson, visiting five countries in seven days.

When we entered the Notre Dame this afternoon, I sucked in my breath, as memories of my time studying in Paris back in 1978 rushed through my mind. During that time in France, I spent many hours sitting quietly on a bench in the cathedral, listening to its glorious pipe organ music.

“That is the first time I ever felt like I was in a spiritual place, sitting in this cathedral when I was young,” I said to Louis.

“What does spiritual mean?” he asked.

I thought about it for a moment. “It feels like being in the presence of God.”

“But weren’t you in church a lot when you were a little girl?” he asked, giving me a puzzled look. He knew that I grew up in a Mennonite community and spent a lot of time in church.

I attempted to explain the difference between religion and spirituality.

Louis shared with us that he had attended mass every week during his month in Spain before we met up with him at the start of our Europe tour. “They do this thing with wine and bread, but I wasn’t allowed to do it,” he said. “What do you have to do to be invited to do that?”

Ed felt privileged that his upbringing allowed him to answer Louis’ many questions about Catholic rituals. He concluded, “But there are priests like Fr. Richard Rohr, who invite everyone who believes in God, whether Catholic or not, to join in taking communion.”

“What’s that man doing behind the glass wall?” Louis asked, pointing to a confessional.

“That’s a priest who is hearing people confessing their sins,” Ed said.

I knew what would come next: “What’s a sin?”

When I told him about things that were considered sins when I was growing up. (like dancing and wearing makeup) Louis smiled. But when we got to more serious sins, he frowned and said “…like Hitler and Donald Trump.”

Tonight we were picked up and taken to a pier for a dinner cruise on the Seine. As we floated past Notre Dame, the musical performers broke into Ave Maria. Louis watched both Ed and me dissolve into tears without even asking us why.

He knew spirituality when he saw it.