December 17, 2008

Lourdes: from tourist to pilgrim, a spiritual awakening

Palm trees stood against the back drop of snow-capped mountains. The balmy weather in the Pyrenees was unexpected after three bitter cold days in Paris. This was Lourdes, France, and an unlikely destination for my travel. Lourdes had been a late addition to our inaugural trip to Europe.

How could I go to France, and miss visiting the birthplace of Bernadette Soubirouis, and the site of an 1858 nonfiction story of David and Goliath magnitude? The production of “The Song of Bernadette” captivated me as a child, so much so that I chose Bernadette as my confirmation name.

When I realized our trip coincided with the 150th anniversary of Mary’s apparitions to Bernadette, I meekly asked my family if we could squeeze an overnight visit to Lourdes.  It required a five-hour train trip each way from Paris.

Millions of people arrive each year.  It is only second to Paris as a tourist destination in France. Lourdes is a place to rest—to unplug and absorb the calm.  Some curious visitors come hoping to see what others see, and what they do not comprehend.  Many others surrender their suffering here, and that in itself is a healing.
Not all healings are physical; most of the spiritual healings are known only to the recipients.  The miraculous spring waters that Bernadette revealed by digging in humble obedience, remains a free gift today.  Its’ grace flows from God through Mary, to open hearts that seek.

I had never traveled as a spiritual tourist, yet somehow our trip expanded into a personal “pilgrimage.” The word was a foreign experience, but I felt drawn to present myself in gratitude to an inspirational woman who is a constant source of mercy and guidance.  I wanted to touch the rock where this female role model of all time, our Mother Mary, presented herself to an impoverished girl of 14.  My impetus to take on such an unlikely mission was thankfulness for the mercy granted during my father’s final days before his death.

Upon arriving, my 15-year-old son said: ”Mom, we should have come right here instead of seeing Paris first.  There are so many kids and everyone seems so happy. The sun is shining for the first time since we’ve arrived in Europe, too!”

Stomachs growling, we stopped to eat.  The waiter took our order. We looked out large windows upon a narrow, two-lane intersection. We could hear groups of people singing. Smiles abounded. No one was hurrying.  It really felt like a different country!

Intrigued, we set out on foot to find the grotto. We took several wrong turns, using our mistakes to observe the sites and people.  Our Mother Mary, in her usual fashion, led us first to her Son. Stepping out of a mist of drizzling rain, we were drawn into wooden doors by singing. Sliding into a pew to listen, we realized a Mass was starting, in French. Accidentally, as if by another’s design, we first attended Mass and received Eucharist.

Only afterward did we behold the grotto.  Walking around the back of the basilica, we descended switchbacks toward the Gave River.  There it was, just like my mind’s eye had imagined.  The cave’s rock, darkened from a century and a half of candle flames, stood witness to heaven reaching out to guide humans.  A white statue of the Virgin Mary stood in her cove, engaging one’s mind and heart.

Mary visited Bernadette 18 times to request prayers and penance.  I placed my hands on the rock below where she appeared and offered up a simple prayer: “Thank you for your mercy.  Present us, our family and friends, to your Son for healing; you know our needs for healing better than us.” After a reverent kiss of the stone I discovered that my hands were scented with a beautiful floral aroma, which lasted even after the next morning’s shower.

We collected water from the spring’s source to share with family members. Submerged in the experience, and praying for our friends and family’s intentions, I surrendered to rinse my face in the water and to drink it with unusual openness.

We returned for the evening candlelight procession. Even the rain paused for the prayers.  Praying the rosary out loud in several languages with hundreds of international people was an unforgettable experience. It surprised me that Europe was so much more open than the United States when adoring Christ and honoring his Mother. Stirred, I realized it was the actual date of the 150th anniversary of Mary finally identifying herself to Bernadette by saying, “I am the Immaculate Conception.”
Lourdes is a holy and joyful place of unity among Christians and non-Christians alike.  Lighting candles in a centuries-old tradition, I was warmed by connecting to the Church body that preceded me for the past two millenniums.

Making our way back to our hotel, we stopped in the multitude of shops. The incongruence of materialism on the doorstep of the sacred was disconcerting.  It seemed opportunistic. It wasn’t until I returned home and read “The Fluorescent Virgin” in the book “The Wonders of Lourdes” (Magnificat, 2008) that my eyes and heart were opened to the distraction.  The merchant’s story tells how he owed his life to a religious trinket. In his words: “God takes any shape he pleases to help us believe in him, to keep us near him. Don’t mock the faith of the simple for it touches God’s heart just as much as the faith of the saints does.” To my surprise I had found a fluorescent virgin in the bottom of my bag once home. Had I been in his store?

I was so grateful to extend our Lourdes experience with this book as I hungered to understand more of the holy city I had visited. My trip is re-stirred every day, prompting peaceful contentment.

Lourdes is a place on earth where the holy touches both the ordinary tourist and the modern pilgrim.

Pam Pedler
Centennial, Colo.