With Open Doors

Bernadette was not very bright, to say the least. She was uneducated about the things of God and found learning very difficult. In a movie about her, the parish priest who was preparing her for first communion said, in a striking line with striking insight, “You know nothing but you understand everything.” Poor, uneducated, a little girl who was nothing in the sight of all in her world! Why was she chosen to be the one to whom “The Lady” would appear? How does that cause us to think about why God gives us what he gives to us?

Following bankruptcy the Soubirous family little by little fell into misery: unemployment, insecurity, expulsion from their home. They lived in a one room “foul and dirty hovel” that used to be a prison, six people in a small room. It was from this place that Bernadette, age 14, went forth on 11 February 1858, having no idea that on that day she would see the Blessed Mother.

The fifth glorious mystery: Mary is crowned Queen of Heaven and Earth.

While Father Jan was preaching, I sneakily snapped this photo. I think he will like having it.

I carried your prayers with me to the altar for Mass at the Basilica of the Rosary at Lourdes. Three times they touched me, as I touched them. (1) at the beginning of Mass, when Archbishop Schnurr prayed in silence for a while after inviting, “Let us pray,” and before he prayed the Collect, I instinctively reached into my pocket and touched mom’s bag that held all your prayers that I had “collected” before I set out on this pilgrimage. (2) during the prayer of the faithful, I faithfully reached again into my pocket to faithfully pray your prayers. (3) as we offered ourselves, together with Jesus as he offered himself to the Father in that great “Through him, with him …,” I felt for mom’s prayer purse and I offered you and your prayers to God again. Three times in one Mass at Lourdes.

After a day in Lourdes, on the second day in Lourdes, I was beginning to feel more like a pilgrim. The first day I was a tourist in the midst of crowds, sightseeing. The second day I was a pilgrim, paying less attention to what was going around me and more attention to what was going on within me.

This morning before Mass three of us arrived a little early. I placed your intentions (and mine) before The Lord in the tabernacle. Priest sometimes go where angels fear to tread, and do what angels hesitate to do. But you do not mind that I placed you and petitions there, do you?

This is the statue of Mary as it appears in the Basilica of the Rosary: Our Lady of Lourdes.

This morning I awoke feeling more like of pilgrim. Yesterday I felt like I was in Disneyland, in the midst of crowds, everyone wanting to see everything before their two day pass ran out. Yesterday it was like sight-seeing. Today it was seeing within and seeing beyond. Much better today. But I still prefer Fatima. Interestingly, it was to Lourdes that I wanted to come, with Fatima thought to be a stop along the way.

Unlike Fatima the area around the shrine in Lourdes is dreadfully tacky and distasteful. The safe and soothing and reverent and respectful avenues of Fatima are replaced in Lourdes with what is a gagging combination of Gatlinburg and Las Vegas.

As we entered the main plaza in front of the shrine, a man gestured and whispered, “Father.” I went toward him. He pointed. Another man gestured me on. Then another motioned to come with him. Up the side of the crowd, across the center at a break, and up the aisle between the rows of the sick in chairs and carts on both sides at the very front, he took me to the raised area in front and motioned for me to join the bishop and the other priests. Now I was looking out over the crowd, all with lighted candles. The bishop included the prayer, and invited all the priests to join him in offering a blessing over the sea of faces lighted by the glow of candle flames. But then the best part. The statue-bearers brought the statue up the steps and placed it on a table right next to us. We turned – and here it got as best as it could get – wall of us together chanted the “Salve Regina” in Latin.

Whenever we prayed the “Glory be to the Father …” or sang, “Ave, ave, ave Maria,” all the candles were raised high.

I wasn’t the only one with a paper candle shield that looked like mine.