Today – aside from being the Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time and Quinquagesima Sunday – is the feast of Our Lady of Lourdes.
If you would like to share the story of St. Bernadette with your children, Loyola has my entry on her from The Loyola Kids’ Book of Saints online here.
Bernadette was afraid, of course, but it wasn’t the kind of fear that made her want to run away. She stayed where she was and knelt down. She reached into the pocket of her worn-out dress, found her own rosary, and started to pray with the girl. When she finished, the girl disappeared.
Bernadette didn’t know who or what she had seen. All she knew was that being there had made her feel happy and peaceful. On their way back to Lourdes, she told her sister and friend what had happened, and soon the whole village knew.
Over the next few weeks, Bernadette returned to the grotto and saw the beautiful girl several times. Each time she went, more people went with her. Although only Bernadette could see the girl in white, when the other villagers prayed with her in the grotto, they felt peaceful and happy too. Those who were sick even felt that God had healed them while they prayed.
During those moments in the grotto, the girl spoke to Bernadette only a few times. She told her that a pure, clear spring flowed under the rocks. She told her that people needed to be sorry for their sins. And near the end, the girl said one more thing: “I am the Immaculate Conception.”
Bernadette had no idea what this meant. She repeated it to herself over and over on her way back to the village so she wouldn’t forget the strange, long words. When she told her parish priest what the girl had said, he was quite surprised.
Twelve – TWELVE – years ago, we spent a few days at Lourdes, as part of our 2012 Grand Tour.
We had just spent a few days at a gite near Montignac and the next stop would be another rental in the Pyrenees.
I didn’t know what to expect, since much of what I had read treated Lourdes with a dismissive air, describing it as “Catholic Disneyland.”
It’s amazing to realize that Lourdes has been a pilgrimage site for a century and a half. If you ever get a chance, read a good history of the apparition and its consequences and uses by various parties within France and the Church. It’s really one of the most fascinating events of modern Catholicism in which every aspect of this crazy, mysterious life on God’s earth comes to bear: God’s unexpected grace and movement among us; God’s power; our receptivity; our temptation to manipulate and distort; our fears; our hopes – answered in God’s grace. Full circle.
(Also, if you have time and the inclination, peruse Zola’s Lourdes. Yes, he has his point of view, but as an account of what 19th century pilgrimage to Lourdes was like, it’s fascinating.)
Anyway, the town of Lourdes isn’t that bad. Yes, close to the shrine, the religious souvenir shops selling the exact same goods (always a mystery to me) are crammed in shoulder to shoulder – but that’s what you find at Assisi and Rome around St. Peter’s as well. No different, just more concentrated here. The town, as I told someone planning a trip, isn’t at all picturesque – if that’s what you’re expecting, forget it. It’s a busy, ordinary modern mid-sized French town, not a picture-book charming village tucked in the mountains.
But then the shrine.
I pointed out to the boys the presence of the sick and the pride of place given them. For every Mass, every procession, every prayer service, the sick are brought in first by the volunteer attendants. On the walkways, there are specially marked lanes for wheelchairs. One night, we saw an older man in a wheelchair (being pushed by a young man) get so frustrated with an unaware pedestrian strolling along in the marked lane, he almost poked him with a cane, and would have if the walker hadn’t been alerted Monsieur, pour les malades by someone (er…me).
When I mentioned the place of les malades to the boys, they asked me, “Why?” I was startled that I had to explain – well, I said, besides being simply polite and compassionate, it’s also a response to the presence of Jesus in those in need, it’s honoring that presence and obeying his command to see him there. It’s a living expression of what Jesus said: the last shall be first – the sick and weak – like Bernadette herself – being the last in the world’s eyes.
Les Malades.
They are first to the waters, first to the light, first to the Body because in their physical condition, we can see them, we Christ, and we can even see ourselves. For we are all the sick, we are all weak, crippled, deaf, paralyzed, suffering, in pain, we are all dying and every one of us yearn to be whole.
And so every night at Lourdes, the darkness illuminated by our thousands of tiny lights, we walk, shuffle, stride, limp and are pushed toward that water. We go on, just as we have always done across time, everywhere led by the One who bound Himself to this weak, suffering Flesh, awash in the womb of a mother
I bought the picture below at a shop well off the beaten path. The artist made pictures like this and hand-crafted rosaries. She said to me, “Now you can say that you bought something that actually came from Lourdes.”
(As opposed to..China.)