The Cathedral of the Holy Trinity in Paris, the American Cathedral, just a few blocks from the Seine and la tour Eiffel, is abuzz on a recent Friday with delegates, candidates and spouses, media representatives, here from all over the European Convocation for the first-ever election of its own bishop [TLC, July 15]. The Very Rev. Ernest Hunt, dean of the cathedral, says this election is "a sign of maturity" of the convocation.

The cathedral, whose spire is the tallest in the city at 280 feet (85.34 m), was consecrated the same time as France's gift to a young America, the Statue of Liberty, Nov. 25, 1886. It serves as the center for a geographically large diocese: France, Belgium, Germany, Italy, Switzerland. The bishop elected this weekend will be a suffragan; this cathedral is the Presiding Bishop's, where the Most Rev. Frank T. Griswold preached and celebrated this spring.

Inside, the English Gothic revival building presents cool stone cloisters and steep steps. In the dim, long nave, the eye is caught by the flags of all the United States hanging below the clerestory, and led back to the central west window with its figures representing the four corners of the earth. The Bell and Beckham windows are based on the Te Deum Laudamus, beginning at the west with its skirt of organ pipes: "We praise Thee, O God, we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord." The illuminated canticle proceeds up the north aisle to the east triple lancet: "Thou art the King of Glory, O Christ," and continues back down the south.

Joanne Dauphin, whose very name is a symbol of the cathedral - very American, tres Franciase - fills the role of guide and translator admirably. She mediates a conversation with the Rev. Canon Bernard Vignot, priest-in-charge for the cathedral's Francophone ministry. He is a member of the Old Catholic Church, "small in France," he says. "It is important for French people to understand Anglican spirituality, Anglican Christian ethics." He has worked with French-speaking ministries worldwide, with the Rev. Jacques Bossiere, the founder of Rencontres. The French Eucharist is held at 6 p.m. Saturdays, followed by dinner and fellowship once monthly. Anywhere from 12 to 25 people may attend. A like number participate in monthly discussions on the history of the Anglican church. "They are not separate congregations; they are all mixed, English, French. Young people, too.

"There is a long history between the French and the English -- there are Normandy stones in Canterbury Cathedral," Canon Vignot says.

The Rev. Canon Nathaniel Hsieh apologizes for his English, but as he speaks about his ministry to the Taiwanese and Asian community, his face lights and he forgets about minor syntactical difficulties. He has been 15 years in France, five years at the cathedral. Before his appointment, he provided pastoral care to refugees. "We must make bridge for Asians. Many are not Anglican, not Christian. We set up the Eucharist in the spirit of Christ. After the service, we have fellowship and instruction. It is growing."

"Nathaniel was invited to Japan last year to talk about our cross-cultural ministry," Mme. Dauphin interjects, while Canon Hsieh smiles shyly. "In Tokyo, Kobe -- to make a link," he says. "We have responsibility to share the Asian experience here -- it takes time. We had to make common ground first. I'd like to make a symbol here, and we need the support of the Anglican Communion." Some of the Japanese Episcopalians came to Paris for a conference at which the Kobe dean preached.

Fr. Hsieh's earliest career was in music. "I visited the United States as a singer," he admits.

In the kitchen, it is time for the Friday mission lunch. Organizer Tom Myers has his apron on in readiness for the 50 or so guests who will be served a meal "with plates and napkins," sharing it with the volunteers. "Our tithe goes to participation in mission outside our walls. We needed an idea to reach the neighborhood." The committee talked with the nearby Roman Catholic church, which had several programs in operation. "They asked if we could do a Friday lunch," Mr. Myers says. "We decided to make lunch, serve it, and join our guests. It began as once a month; now it's weekly.

"It's important that our guests be treated as equals. And we've begun a service before lunch. It's entirely optional; we just let people know it's available. But attendance is up." Mr. Myers came to France intending to learn French, then return to New Jersey and teach French. Instead he stayed in Paris teaching English. He says most of the people who come for lunch are looking for more than food. "They are looking for help, for human contact."

The cathedral has only recently emerged from the scaffolding of un ravalement, the extensive renovation and restoration mandated by the French government for all Paris buildings every 10 years. Vestry member Karen Miller Lamb made the ascent via "fragile-looking open-air elevator" and, above 170 feet, 11 ladders, to the 3-meter cross atop the steeple. She wrote in her essay "Stairway to Heaven," " ...you see up close and personal just how desperately our beloved cathedral needs ... the expert medical attention it is getting ... the cracked, deteriorating stones truly become Living Stones to the beholder..." The Living Stones campaign raised more than $350,000 to clean and repair the structure and the individual stone gargoyles, statues and metalwork. In 1997 the cathedral was designated a Monument Historique, recognizing it as part of France, Dean Hunt says, and making it eligible for a government grant.

During the process, the tower was found to be leaning -- "Not," Mme. Dauphin says, "that we were in Pisa; but once you know about it, you can't help but worry about it." The architect, Michael Jantzen, did not straighten but steadied the tower "using four strong cables buried in the stone ... down to 14 meters where they are attached to a cross bar and weighted to three tons each." The rooster which sits proudly at the apex of the tower "had turned quite green," senior warden Harriet Riviére reports, during a lively description of the project. As co-chair of the Buildings and Grounds Committee when most of the work took place, she made the exhilarating climb weekly. "It feels like touching the sky," she's said. The venerable cock, a reminder of Peter's denial -- he looks, in fact, to have a tear below one eye -- as well as a traditional symbol of the French nation, now glows a mellow gold after his regilding.

The splendid Cavaillé-Coll organ, too, has received a thorough repair and restoration. Organist and choirmaster Ned Tipton's North Carolina origins color his French and his English un peu, as he describes the cathedral's dry acoustic. The console of le grand orgue is "near the choir, not in the rear of the church as is customary in France." The single-manual grand choeur, in the rear gallery, was originally separate, but now is played as well from the main console. "The two sound as one, to the delight of both the singer and the listener. The placement seems to pull the sound back, out into the nave."

The Cathedral Choir of 35 sings the traditional English Advent Lessons and Carols in December, always including "at least one French Noël. [In 1997], there was a carol, 'Magnificat anima mea,' that was composed by David Hogan, a soloist in the choir until he was killed in the crash of Trans World Airlines Flight 800 off Long Island, N.Y., in 1996." The Children's Choir is unique in France.

Nell Toensmann, the convocation's communication officer, was "raised in St. Augustine, Fla., daughter of an Episcopal priest," has lived in Frankfurt, Brussels, Paris, as well as New York. She and Mme. Riviére speak of the "inreach" program, which offers assistance to the community's own; of the youth ministry and the urban outreach, and of course of the ravalement, which brought to view charming saints and imps, badly damaged by weather and pollution but most now cleaned and keeping watch again.

The cathedral is a memorial to the dead of both world wars. The World War I Memorial Battle Cloister was dedicated in 1923, a year after the Church of the Holy Trinity became a cathedral. In June, 1994, "Philippe Mestre, Minister of Veterans and War Victims, and the Hon. Pamela Harriman, United States Ambassador to France, inaugurate[d] seven marble plaques in memory of those of all nationalities who died or disappeared in Europe during World War II." The story is told of Lawrence Whipp, then organist/choirmaster, "who remained behind, in charge of the cathedral, when other Americans had fled Paris in the early 1940s. The building was requisitioned as the Protestant Church of the German Army. Whipp was interned in a concentration camp; he was later released and returned to care for his beloved cathedral."

Dean Hunt came to the cathedral from Dallas in 1992. "This is a very international congregation, of English-speaking people from anywhere," he says. "We have great opportunities for diplomacy and international ecumenical relationships. Of course, the majority are Americans, and this is the only cathedral [in Europe] with a personal ministry to Americans." In 1917, he says, the cathedral aided escaping White Russians. A few years ago it served as a refugee center for English-speaking Africans. More recently, it was the site of a memorial service for the victims of Flight 800, and the funeral of Pamela Harriman. In January it was host to an ecumenical service that included Greek, Russian, and Serbian Orthodox participants.

The cathedral is, he says, "the primary spiritual support for Americans abroad, the proverbial 'home away from home'... an outpost for American style hospitality." And the cathedral's lighted tower shines above the Paris skyline, offering to all, English-speaking, Francophone, Chinese, "through Christ, ways of dealing with a complex world and transcending it."